Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 9

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Chapter 9 – War Outbreak

I

From November to December SY 446, the political sphere of planet Bargash was gripped by a level of bewilderment and confusion rarely seen before. It was facing the threat of all-out war with Tytania.

The root cause lay in the fact that Duke Zarlisch Tytania had disregarded Bargash’s sovereignty and laws and forcibly carried out military operations. However, there was no prospect of Tytania admitting its wrongdoing or offering an apology. The Bargash government was thus forced to face a dreadfully grave dilemma: either plunge into all-out war with Tytania, or exhaust every diplomatic resource in pursuit of peace. It was clear that even if they sought peace, they would be presented with extremely harsh terms. Terms that would likely threaten the very survival of their nation.

Entrusted to Admiral Turbil and placed under house arrest in one of the military barracks, the comrades of the Honest Old Man exchanged the following conversation:

“If we’d let Zarlisch Tytania live back then, was there a way out for us?”

“No, probably not. It might even have led to a worse outcome.”

Let us suppose that Fan Hyulick and his men had taken Zarlisch prisoner and spared his life. Even if they had then made some demand of Tytania, there was no way he would have meekly accepted it. The Bargash government, suddenly thrown into disarray by the turn of events, would have been blackmailed into returning Zarlisch. Or they might have had Hyulick and his men arrested, or even killed. Zarlisch himself would have devised various means of escape, and the Tytania branch would undoubtedly launch a rescue operation.

To begin with, had they not shot Zarlisch dead in that underground cavern, it would have been Hyulick who would have had to accept his fate of being strangled.

“Well, in any case, what’s done is done.”

Walenkov summed it up matter-of-factly.

“The question is what we do from here on. What are your thoughts, Admiral Hyulick?”

“For the time being, we’ll buy some time,” replied Hyulick nonchalantly, crossing his legs leisurely.

“If Tytania invades with a large army, Bargash will have no choice but to steel themselves. And if they want to increase his chances of victory, they won’t kill us off that easily. No need to be pessimistic.”

In truth, Fan Hyulick was not quite as detached as his expression and tone might suggest. He wondered whether his judgement might be flawed. While he weighed the pros and cons, might a disgraceful end, be it arrest or assassination, be creeping ever closer to him and his comrades? That anxiety lurked in his shadow, constantly accompanying him. Even so, he had no choice but to stake his own and his comrades’ fates on a single possibility.

“If Tytania mobilises a large army for a head-on clash with Bargash, the commander would be no one else but Duke Ariabert. I am the only person in the universe who has ever defeated Duke Ariabert, even if it was a fluke. The Bargash government knows this. Unless they are 100% certain of peace, they won’t harm me.”

He had calculated this and double-checked it time and again. That said, in terms of lacking 100% certainty, Hyulick was no different from the Bargash government.

At times, Hyulick could see things too clearly. If he were to speculate on the inner thoughts of the Bargash government’s high-ranking officials, he realised that their lack of certainty regarding victory was even greater than their lack of certainty regarding peace. After agonising in a cold sweat, they might end up short-circuiting their thought processes and throwing themselves into the easiest option.

He tried to imagine such an ominous scene, but for the time being, Fan Hyulick was under house arrest and was not even permitted to meet with senior officials of the Bargash government. Given that, there was only one way to avoid being consumed by boredom and unnecessary anxiety: to try his luck with a woman.

“You could tell me your name by now, right?”

One day, in the great dining hall, he tried asking a certain woman.

“Well, yes, but I must be careful. If any evil spirits are listening in, my whole life will end up in a dark tunnel.”

The woman who laughed was a female soldier from the anti-Tytania faction who had been stationed in the underground caverns of the desert. Here, she was not wearing her sun visor, but she was still clad in her camouflaged field uniform.

Setting aside her laughter, Hyulick asked:

“Your name?”

“Seraphine Coopers. My friends call me Sera.”

Just as Mr Fan Hyulick had finally succeeded in learning the name that interested him, the Bargash government found itself at the very opposite extreme of peace of mind. Ajman, the Landless Clanner of Tytania, had presented them with terms of peace. The document comprised no fewer than forty clauses, which were not merely stringent but utterly Draconian.

Leaving aside the handover of those responsible for the war, the clause that nearly drove the Bargash government into collective cardiac arrest was the following:

“Permanently transfer to Tytania authority to conduct qualification assessments for Locators.”

It was impossible for Bargash to accept this condition. Locators were a professional body responsible for planetary development and administration in the frontier star systems. To cede the authority to assess qualifications would mean relinquishing the status of “Capital of the Frontier” for all eternity. Compared to this condition, matters of territory and reparations seemed as light as a spring breeze.

“Tytania has no genuine intention of making peace. From the very start, they’ve been imposing unreasonable conditions. They want to force us into war.”

“The untimely death of Duke Zarlisch is no cause for sorrow to them. It is nothing but a stroke of good fortune.”

“Isn’t that typical of Tytania? They would even exploit the death of a relative for their own gain. It is in their very nature to gnaw on the very bones of the dead.”

“We cannot coexist with the likes of them. The only reason we have managed to maintain peace until now is because Bargash has upheld common sense and decency. But we have learnt that decency is only something to be upheld towards human beings. It is powerless against beasts. The only way to discipline them is the whip!”

Voices of fierce indignation surged both within and outside the Bargash government.

“There is still room for negotiation. If we act rashly, we’ll fall right into Tytania’s trap. We must remain calm and seek the best course of action.”

The peace faction desperately tried to appease their fellow citizens, but their numbers and influence were rapidly dwindling. Tytania had fired a bullet straight into the Bargash people’s patience. Their forbearance had evaporated, and they were on the verge of exploding.

However, the Bargash government could not simply cry out “This is War!” so easily. They tried to find a way out of the impasse, but there was no such thing as a miraculous solution. They held repeated discussions, postponed reaching a conclusion, and in the end were criticised by the hawks for being “indecisive”, it was nothing short of a thankless task.

Admiral Turbil, however, was full of vigour, oblivious to the confusion and anguish of the senior government officials. Such was the advantage of being the one who had already crossed the river.

“If it comes to a humiliating peace, there’s no doubt I’ll be killed by Tytania, but I shall not die alone. I’ll take a hundred of those self-important politicians in Parliament down with me.”

“Why not blow up the whole Parliament building to smithereens with cannons? Once we’ve gnawed through the tables, all that’s left is to smash up the canteen.”

Lieutenant-Commander Irk took off his cap and fanned his face. He and Rear-Admiral Turville had once been regarded as the cautious, level-headed faction within the Bargash military establishment, but as a result of Lady Fortune’s negligence, they now found themselves forming the most hard-line wing of the anti-Tytania faction.

As the Bargash government had become mired in endless debate and was unable to reach a resolution, it decided to summon anti-Tytania figures both civil and military who had been placed under house arrest, such as Admiral Turbil and Fan Hyulick, to the Supreme Council’s Security Committee to hear their views. Naturally, they were all unarmed, with four soldiers assigned to monitor each of them. They ought to count themselves lucky not to have been handcuffed.

After about 500 seconds of perfunctory questioning, the Chairman of the Supreme Council, leaning back in his chair, addressed Hyulick, who remained standing:

“Do you have the confidence to fight Tytania and win?”

It was a question that was crude rather than frank. Fan Hyulick felt under no obligation to satisfy the kind of person who’d hurl such a question at him.

“It depends on the conditions.”

“Conditions… you mean the reward, right?”

Hyulick was dumbfounded by this reaction. It was the sort of remark that would have delighted Mahdi, or maybe it was simply the result of watching crude space-pioneering dramas on 3D Solivision day in day out. Within the sixty-minute slot, complete with adverts, the hero of justice would invariably vanquish the evil aliens. All one had to do was sip a beer and enjoy the action from another world. No harm ever befell those who watch 3D Solivision.

“You are the man who defeated Duke Ariabert Tytania. You must have some sure-win tactic even if the enemy outnumbers you ten to one, right?”

“No such thing exists in this world.”

Hyulick replied with an icy detachment verging on indifference. Even if the Bargash government were dismantled by Tytania and wiped from the cosmos, it might not be all that lamentable in the grand scheme of history. He was even beginning to feel that way.

“So you’re saying you’re going up against Tytania without any prospect of victory?”

Ignoring the Chairman’s exaggeratedly wide-eyed expression, Hyulick replied:

“Duke Ariabert Tytania is a famous general. I won the Battle of Cerberus because I caught him off guard, but I don’t think such a tactic will work a second time.”

This was his true feeling, though it was sprinkled with a few crumbs of acting. He couldn’t afford to have people think he could easily defeat Duke Ariabert in military strategy and tactics by making an enemy of him.

Doctor Lee, his gaze lingering on Hyulick’s profile, interjected casually:

“There is no need for Fan Hyulick to defeat Ariabert Tytania in person. The point is simply that the anti-Tytania faction must defeat Tytania, am I wrong?”

The fact that he referred to them as the anti-Tytania faction rather than planet Bargash was a sign of Doctor Lee’s cunning, or perhaps his craftiness. Doctor Lee had no intention of promising to secure victory or save Bargash alone.

One of the councillors, who had been casting disapproving glances at Hyulick and the other “irresponsible outsiders”, clenched his fist and slammed it down on the desk, presumably in an attempt to intimidate them.

“This matter is crystal clear. These men should be chained up and taken to Tytania’s headquarters. They are the ones who must bear the responsibility for the war against Tytania. If we simply hand them over, Tytania will not dare to resort to force.”

“The first part of your argument is entirely correct. However, the second part is nothing more than a fool’s fantasy.”

Doctor Lee gave him a failing mark. His expression was that of a sarcastic and merciless interviewer.

“Compromise and concession depend on the other party. Having lost Duke Zarlisch, Tytania cannot restore her prestige unless she completely subjugates your Bargash government. If you take a step back, they will take two steps forward. You can’t possibly fail to understand that. You are merely pretending not to.”

When the councillors fell silent, Doctor Lee also fell quiet, and Amzekar took up the argument in his stead.

II

“I am Amzekar, a former soldier of the Vardana Empire. I was defeated by Duke Ariabert.”

Having introduced himself thus without a hint of shame, Amzekar glared at the councillors with a fierce gaze.

“Is there anyone in Bargash who can defeat Ariabert Tytania in battle? None, am I wrong? The only one who can is a foreigner. You must entrust command of your entire army to Fan Hyulick. That is Bargash’s only path to survival.”

With a sneer, one of the councillors countered:

“It is not simply a matter of going to war. The Tytania clan is not a Demon King clan. Even if we were to yield to them, they won’t annihilate us.”

“What have you lot learnt from history? The Vardana Empire was once a great power on a par with the Interstellar City League. But now, it is a colony of the Tytania clan!”

"…"

Surveying the high-ranking officials of the Bargash government as they sank into a silence as dark and heavy as a deep-sea fish, Amzekar sharpened his tongue even further:

“If you surrender to Tytania, you will likely be granted a nominal independence. Tytania does not care about such formalities; they are satisfied as long as there is tangible benefit. The real problem lies with you. The question is whether you can wag your tails while wearing Tytania’s collar and still have the face not to be ashamed of it.”

This scathing metaphor robbed the peace faction of any rebuttal.

“Then let me ask you this: do you stand any chance of winning against Tytania!?” finally shouted the peace faction, cornered.

“What’s the point of fighting without a chance of winning? These exiles are simply trying to drag Bargash into a private feud between themselves and Tytania!”

“That’s quite right,” muttered Doctor Lee in a very low voice, yet with utter brazenness.

It was true that they were attempting to drag Bargash into a war against Tytania for their own sake; they had no defence against being accused of selfishness.

However, from the outset, Fan Hyulick, Doctor Lee and the others had never been apostles of absolute peace, nor heroes of justice; they were merely “liberationists” in the sense that they continued to refuse to be ruled by Tytania. Fully aware that they were in the minority, they knew that in order to continue resisting Tytanian rule, it would certainly be better to have at least a few allies on their side. And so, as a result of a strange puzzle game of chance and necessity, they had set their sights on Bargash.

Bargash, the one they had set their sights on, was a blessing in disguise. But as for Fan Hyulick, he felt like saying, “Don’t start whingeing at this stage. If you don’t want to grovel before Tytania and beg for mercy, you’ll just have to fight!” That said, more than half of that was him talking to himself.

The peace faction shouted once more:

“Do you really think you can face tomorrow without regret, having entrusted the nation’s fate to such a rabble of vagabonds!”

“It is far better to face a tomorrow filled with regret than to die today with a sense of satisfaction,” retorted Admiral Turbil, standing tall with his chest thrust out.

Knowing there was no other recourse, the old military man had completely resigned himself to his fate. At one point, he had even been prepared to take responsibility and take his own life, but even if he had done so, there was no way Tytania would have accepted it and laid down her arms. In that case, there was nothing left but to fight. After all, if Zarlisch Tytania had withdrawn her forces in accordance with Admiral Turbil’s gentlemanly advice, no one would have had to die.

It was also true that there were criticisms levelled at Rear-Admiral Turbil along the lines of, “At his age, he really ought to show a little more restraint”. Political judgement, unlike a sixty-minute space exploration drama packed with adverts, involved various factions engaged in a bitter struggle, each clinging to their own subjective sense of righteousness and possessing reasons to reject the claims of the other side. In this instance, both the pro-peace and pro-war factions in Bargash regarding Tytania believed themselves to be historically in the right, and were convinced they must prevent the opposing camp from leading their homeland in the wrong direction.

However, the reason their footing occasionally wavered was, ultimately, because they feared Tytania’s power. It was precisely because of this fear that one side sought peace, while the other yearned for liberation from oppressive rule, and so the conflict had continued.

Amidst this unresolved conflict, chilling news arrived from Corvin, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, who was still staying at Uraniborg.

“It is said that the Tytanian Army, under the overall command of Duke Ariabert, is planning to mobilise at least twenty thousand vessels.”

“T-twenty thousand!?”

The Chairman turned pale and lost his voice.

Although Tytania’s total naval strength was said to be 100,000 vessels, there had been no instance in the past quarter-century of a force exceeding 10,000 ships being mobilised. If they were now mobilising 20,000 vessels, one had to recognise the intensity of Tytania’s resolve.

“I-it’s just a bluff. Mobilising a large army doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Isn’t it like the old saying, just ‘a big murder of crows’?”

“Hoh? Are you calling the elite forces of Tytania commanded by Duke Ariabert a big murder of crows?”

With considerable malice, Doctor Lee used sharp words to pierce through his opponent’s bluster.

“That is reassuring. In that case, it would be utterly presumptuous of us to even consider cooperating with the Bargash army. Please do repel Tytania with your own strength alone. We shall pray for your victory.”

Having thoroughly tormented the Chairman’s nerves, lungs, stomach and heart, the group took their leave.

They believed they had made good use of the time allotted to them, but no sooner had they returned to their lodgings than they were confronted with an unexpected danger. One can never tell what a cornered herbivore might do when it flies into a rage; on this day, it was a faction of the peace camp that had lost all rationality upon learning of Tytania’s plan to mobilise twenty thousand vessels. Deeming Fan Hyulick and his faction to be the root of all evil, they organised a demonstration, and some fifty of them, armed with firearms, stormed the quarters.

They filled the ground-floor hall to capacity; with so few of them and no weapons, it seemed Hyulick and his companions had no means of defending themselves. However…

“You fools! Do you not understand the way of the world?” bellowed Fan Hyulick, looking down at the hall from the atrium on the first floor.

Channelling all his energy into his voice and his gaze, he glared at the storming mob. The mob were intimidated and halted their advance.

“Do you really think Tytania fears Bargash’s military might? I am the one she fears. The only man to have ever defeated Duke Ariabert.”

He thumped his chest. He was well aware it was a cheap act, but he was certainly risking his life. The rioters flinched and exchanged glances. Seizing the moment, Hyulick pressed his advantage.

“If you so much as lay a finger on me, Tytania will immediately invade Bargash with a massive army. Since Bargash will be destroying its own protective walls with its own hands, there could be nothing more welcome to Tytania. What you are about to do is playing right into Tytania’s hands!”

The rioters let out groans. Ninety-nine per cent of those who commit such acts of violence are convinced they are ardent and sincere patriots. Accused of aiding the enemy, they were thrown into a state of agitation and confusion.

“You there! How much did Tytania pay you to sell out your homeland!?”

It was Mahdi who suddenly shouted this, jabbing his finger at one of the rioters. On the spur of the moment, he too had joined in with Hyulick’s act. The man he pointed at was a young man of medium height; his face remained contorted, and he could not bring himself to utter a word of protest. This was, of course, not because the facts had been pointed out, but because he had been falsely accused of an outrageous crime.

“W-we’re not like that. We have our country’s best interests at heart…”

While he struggled to defend himself, Lieutenant-Commander Irk arrived with his men and scattered the mob. Had they opened fire the moment they spotted Hyulick and his companions, they might well have achieved their original objective; it was a pitiful affair that they had been driven off by mere words. Doctor Lee thanked lieutenant-Commander Irk and clapped ostentatiously for Fan Hyulick and Mahdi.

“Well, that was quite the performance. The two of you could make a living as a comedy duo.”

“Say whatever you want.”

A sudden torrent of sweat broke out on his skin, and Fan Hyulick slumped back into his chair. Mahdi slumped into the chair beside him and shrugged his shoulders.

“It wasn’t even a single dakar’s worth of acting, yet I got carried away. We’ve got through today, but what are we going to do from tomorrow?”

“I suppose the Bargash government will decide that for us.”

Doctor Lee’s prediction had proved accurate. The Bargash government had finally made its decision. It had been forced to do so.

“Now that it has come to this, there is no other course of action. We should grant Fan Hyulick and his men a certain degree of military authority and allow them to participate in the fighting, while also forming an alliance with the various nations and factions that harbour animosity towards Tytania to tackle this crisis.”

A Grand Alliance against Tytania! It was a plan that countless strategists and diplomats had yearned for and dreamt of ceaselessly over the past two centuries.

The reason it had been conceived only to falter midway through implementation was due to Tytania’s cunning political and military manoeuvres, and also because the Grand Alliance itself could not avoid the fragility inherent in a coalition of disparate interests. If A sought to seize the initiative, B would push back; if C asserted its own interests within the Grand Alliance, D would obstruct it. Should Tytania prick that vulnerability with a needle, the sandcastle would collapse in an instant.

Yet, fully aware of the difficulties, or rather, left with no other choice, Bargash had no option but to pursue the Grand Alliance. Thus, once Bargash’s political and military strategy had finally been established, Hyulick, Lee, Amzekar, Mr and Mrs Casimir, Mahdi, Pagès, and Walenkov were incorporated into Rear-Admiral Turbil’s forces as temporary staff officers.

III

Although not quite as boisterous as in Bargash, rumours were rife even at Uraniborg, the headquarters of Tytania.

“Duke Jouslain is well-regarded for his political acumen, but how does he fare as a commander in actual combat? He’s unlikely to measure up to Duke Ariabert or the late Duke Zarlisch.”

“However, since Duke Zarlisch’s passing, Duke Ariabert has been the crown jewel of the Tytanian Army. Before he sets out on campaign, might Tytania not dispatch some other commander instead?”

“What about Duke Idris?”

“…About him. For the time being, rather than commanding a large army, that gentleman’s more pressing task is probably keeping his younger brother in check.”

The remark ended in a quiet chuckle. Idris had never been a figure of immense trust and respect to begin with, but his standing had diminished further because of his unworthy younger brother, Radmoth. Public opinion clearly blamed Radmoth and sympathised with Balamy, who had been exiled to the planet Tyron.

Radmoth, having finally had his house arrest lifted, went to visit his elder brother.

“Brother, I intend to do my utmost in everything so as not to bring shame upon you as your younger brother.”

“How very commendable. Work hard and do your very best.”

There was no trace of brotherly affection in Idris’ voice. Even if Radmoth were banished to a frontier even more remote than that of Balamy, it would not cause Idris the slightest pang of conscience. Whether he was aware of his brother’s true feelings or not, Radmoth spoke in an earnest tone, saying:

“I have a request. When Lord Ariabert sets out on campaign, I would like to be allowed to serve as a staff officer.”

Facing Idris, who raised his eyebrows without a word, Radmoth continued:

“I’m not asking for anything extravagant. Being a senior aide-de-camp or a chief of staff would do. In any case, I want the chance to earn military honours on this campaign.”

Idris’ reaction was one of utter insincerity: “A senior aide-de-camp or a chief of staff would do”? The nerve to spout such nonsense! It struck Idris that Radmoth seemed to be under the impression that these two posts were particularly easy roles. He lowered his raised eyebrows and turned the conversation back to him:

“Radmoth, I believe I granted you the position of Commander of the Vardana Guard the other day. It is a prestigious post that any Imperial soldier would covet. What on earth have you done with that position?”

Faced with his elder brother’s stern words, it was Radmoth who fell silent this time. Neither his features nor his build suggested he was a seventeen-year-old boy; he was brimming with a kind of ferocious vigour, to the extent that Idris himself appeared frail by comparison. His sullen silence gave the impression not so much of fear as of petulance.

“If you were not of the Tytania clan, there would have been no way you could have attained such a prominent post at the age of seventeen. You ought to be fully aware of this, conduct yourself with due respect, fulfil your duties properly, and ensure you do not invite the censure of others. Yet to get into a brawl with the likes of Balamy and incur the displeasure of His Clanner Highness. What utter folly!”

As he spoke, Idris’ anger grew. As his younger brother, Radmoth ought to understand his elder brother’s ambitions and cooperate to help achieve them; yet, instead, he was trying to hold Idris back.

One of the reasons Idris had looked down upon Zarlisch during his lifetime was that he had been unable to keep even his own younger brother, Arses, under control. Yet, upon reflection, Idris himself was at a loss as to how to deal with his unworthy younger brother. The more he recognised this fact, the more he found himself unable to suppress a bitter rage.

Had Radmoth’s calibre and ability surpassed Idris’, the ducal title would have fallen into Radmoth’s hands. The standard of judgement for the Clanner of Tytania was to prioritise talent over seniority. In that sense, Idris ought to be grateful that Radmoth lacked talent, but it would be even more troublesome if his utter incompetence and lack of judgement were to hold his brother back.

“When I was seventeen, I had far more resolve and a greater sense of responsibility. I strove to prove myself worthy of being a member of one of the Five Families of Tytania.”

As Idris paused briefly, Radmoth looked back at his elder brother with a strangely intense gaze.

“If I were to become head of the ducal house, I’d make at least that much of an effort.”

“What? Such impertinence!”

As his brother shouted angrily, Radmoth fell silent once more, his eyes alone gleaming.

Suddenly, Idris felt a chill run down his spine. His younger brother, Radmoth, seemed to him like some unidentifiable monster. Though he was his own brother, this was a man capable of running amok, disregarding common sense and restraint. The other day, it had merely been a fistfight with Viscount Balamy, but there was a possibility he might eventually cause trouble on a much larger scale.

If that were the case, maybe losing his position as Commander of the Royal Guard was actually a stroke of good fortune? Not for Radmoth, but for Idris. Perhaps it would be for the best to send Radmoth to serve on Ariabert’s campaign, as he himself wished, and shift the responsibility for supervising him onto Ariabert.

Below Radmoth, Idris has one younger brother and two younger sisters. His youngest brother, Zelpha, respected his eldest brother and was of good character, but at merely twelve years old of age, he was still too young to assist his elder brother. It seemed that for the next five years or so, Idris would have no choice but to shoulder the responsibilities of the family alone.

Idris’ pride would not allow him to bow his head to Ariabert and ask for his younger brother’s appointment. In that were the case, there was only one course of action.

Idris sought an audience with Clanner Ajman and implored him to grant Radmoth an opportunity to clear his name. Ajman fixed Idris with a piercing gaze, but nodded silently and promised to convey the matter to Ariabert. The following day, Idris heard that Ariabert had said the following:

“I hear that Baron Radmoth is a valiant young man, if not the most courteous. Should he distinguish himself in battle, he might well achieve a reputation that surpasses even that of Lord Idris, his elder brother. I hope he will do his best.”

These words spurred Idris in a negative direction. He brooded sullenly, though not for long, and in the end withdrew his petition to have Radmoth join the expedition. Ariabert feigned disappointment, though this was nothing more than a superficial pretence.

“It seems to have turned out well. I am glad I sought Lord Jouslain’s counsel.”

Ariabert thanked his adviser, and Jouslain nodded with a wry smile.

Ariabert was about to command his first large army and embark on an all-out war against Bargash. Just as he was preparing to devote all his wisdom and power to planning and executing the campaign, he could not bear to have the front lines disrupted by a member of his own clan, someone like Radmoth who lacked both foresight and a spirit of cooperation.

He could have flatly refused Radmoth’s request to join the war, but that would have subtly undermined morale before the outbreak of hostilities. Ariabert consulted Jouslain, and, following Jouslain’s advice, managed to appeal to Idris’ complex feelings towards Radmoth.

“It must be quite a burden for Lord Idris, too, having to deal with a good-for-nothing brother. Well, I wonder if Lord Radmoth will be satisfied with this?”

Jouslain could not help but reflect on the weight and taint of the blood they bore.

IV

On their father’s side, Ariabert and Jouslain were first cousins of the same age. This was recorded as such in the official genealogy. No other facts were acknowledged. Yet there existed a bloodline that would never be officially recognised.

Tytania was, in essence, a system of power dominated by blood ties; should the bloodline die out, the system would collapse. Consequently, alongside customs such as marriage between blood relatives and adoption, there were also many unofficial instances of childless couples resorting to extreme measures to achieve conception. It was not uncommon for the legitimate son of House A to be, in fact, the genetic son of the head of House B within the span of eight generations of the Clanner. When the rule of the bloodline elevated the single principle of “not letting the bloodline die out” to an absolute justice, it bred a murky folly that left ordinary citizens speechless.

Ariabert was even more averse than Jouslain to discussing his private life with others. As he was no saint, it was certain that he had one or more mistresses, but even Jouslain knew nothing beyond the rumours.

Jouslain himself had no interest in the amorous affairs of others; if he took any notice of the relationship between Idris and Theodora, it was purely in a political context. Even so, Jouslain sarcastically observed that Idris had his hands full of his younger brother Radmoth and his mistress Theodora who were both rather turbulent characters.

When Ariabert visited Jouslain’s flat to thank him for his assistance with the matter of Baron Radmoth, he brought along some peach bavarois and éclairs for Princess Lydia.

“I don’t really understand women’s tastes, but I wonder if the princess will be pleased with these?”

The young Tytanian commander handed the box of sweets to Francia and clinked glasses of whisky with Jouslain. Naturally, the conversation turned to the upcoming campaign. As far as military tactics were concerned, Ariabert’s prediction was clear:

“Bargash will likely entrust Van Hyulick’s faction with a certain degree of authority as mercenaries. However, unless he assumes overall command of the Bargash army, Tytania will not be defeated. Even if we concede ground in local skirmishes, we will undoubtedly prevail in the grand scheme of things.”

After pausing for a moment, Ariabert added quietly;

“Overwhelmingly so.”

Jouslain did not regard those words as exaggerated. Ariabert was not the sort of man to indulge in empty boasts; the gap between his track record and his confidence was remarkably narrow. Although he had once been defeated by Fan Hyulick, Clanner Ajman’s trust in his consistent military prowess had never wavered.

After about an hour, Ariabert took his leave. In the few hours before he went to bed, he would no doubt continue to refine his tactics, racking his brains to the limit to work out how best to manoeuvre his troops.

“Duke Ariabert is a fine man.”

It was not merely because she had been given some sweets, but Princess Lydia spoke with genuine admiration. Jouslain naturally agreed with the Princess’ assessment, but what pleased him most was that his personal judgement of the man coincided with hers. However intelligent he might be, the fact that he placed himself on the same level as a ten-year-old child was undoubtedly a peculiar aspect of Jouslain’s character.

While the practical responsibility for the large-scale mobilisation rests on Ajman’s shoulders, Clanner Ajman, as the ruler of all Tytania, also had to approve various matters. Amidst a wide range of duties, including personnel matters, organisational structure, supplies, and court intrigues in Vardana, Ajman, accompanied by Count Elman, inspected the facilities at the military spaceport. Count Elman had come to report on the matter of repatriating Corvin, Bargash’s Minister of Foreign Affairs.

Gazing down at the vessels in the spaceport over the high railing, Ajman addressed his escort:

“Count Elman, having visited Uraniborg for the first time in a while, I trust you have gained some valuable insights.”

“May I speak my mind?”

“By all means, do so.”

“Then, with all due respect, it is my humble opinion that the future of Tytania will be guided by the cooperative relationship between Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain.”

“So Duke Ariabert will conquer the outside world, while Duke Jouslain governs the realm from within?”

“Precisely.”

Count Elman’s reply, which seemed to put on an air of insight, appeared to put the Clanner in a sarcastic mood.

“But as the saying goes, two heroes cannot stand side by side. If the two share the people’s trust, a faction will form. And once a faction forms, petty men will seek to exploit its power to stir up conflict.”

“That would indeed be unfortunate for Tytania. Therefore, undermining the cooperative relationship between the two of them would surely become a matter of urgency for ambitious people with anti-Tytania sentiments.”

“Ambitious people? Surely such men do not exist solely outside Tytania?”

A smile like a blade played at the corners of the Clanner’s mouth A blade that was both cold and thick.

“What of you, Lord Idris? As far as I can see, your ambition and obsession with the Clanner’s throne surpass even those of the other two dukes.”

There was a slight pause before he replied.

“With all due respect, Your Clanner Highness, I must say I agree with your observation.”

He said no more. He did not voice his own opinion.

Ajman cast a glance at the face of Count Elman who sat below him. The smile he now displayed resembled the thin blade of a rusty razor. Count Elman even felt a physical pang of pain.

“Never mind. It concerns matters after my death, after all.”

Had anyone else uttered such words, they would surely have been regarded as the height of ill omen and disrespect. This was freedom of speech permitted only to Ajman.

“The great river of time contains many waterfalls. In the space of just a year or two, the situation may change dramatically, ushering in a new era beyond imagination. Those who cannot keep up will have no choice but to drown.”

The Clanner walked across the well-polished floor. His gait was full of power and authority, yet accompanied by an elegance reminiscent of a feline predator. Keeping a distance of about seven paces behind the Clanner, Count Elman wore a blank expression. The Clanner knew that this was proof that the Count was deep in thought. He knew it with such precision as if he had eyes in the back of his head.

“Count Elman.”

“Yes, what is the matter, Your Clanner Highness?”

“Accompany Lord Ariabert. When he accepts the enemy’s terms of peace, assist him in his capacity as a diplomatic adviser.”

“As you wish.”

The count bowed respectfully, and the sound of the Clanner’s footsteps faded away beyond his head.

V

Mid-December. Viscount Balamy Tytania found himself on the surface of planet Tyron. While there were variations in temperature depending on latitude and altitude, it was, on the whole, a planet with high humidity, and a chill dampness pressed against the young man’s cheek like a wet palm.

Walking out of the spaceport gate, on his ninth step, Balamy came face to face with a fellow counsellor who had come to greet him.

“You must be Viscount Balamy Tytania, who has taken up post as counsellor.”

“That is correct, have you come to welcome me?”

By the time he replied, he had steeled himself. The person who had addressed him was a woman, though she lacked both youth and beauty. A thin, pale woman in her forties, she lacked physical beauty, yet her small grey eyes seemed to brim with intelligence. To the young Balamy, she would hardly be the object of romantic affection, but she might well be someone worthy of trust. At the very least, Tytania should not be the sort of organisation where an incompetent woman with no public support could hold such a key post as counsellor.

But that would only be the case for someone who did not bear the surname Tytania. As he climbed into the ground vehicle, Balamy thought this with bitterness. There was the fact that a foolish and brutish young man like Baron Radmoth Tytania had risen to become Commander of the Vardana Imperial Guard simply because of his family name. Was this not the first step towards decadence and corruption?

“If it had been Duke Idris, that might have been one thing, but to be lumped together with the likes of Baron Radmoth? Was that all the Clanner thought of me?”

A sense of humiliation seared through his nervous system like hot grease. His cheeks flushed, and the female councillor seated beside him cast a discreet sidelong glance his way.

The ground vehicle was driven by a non-commissioned officer in a grey uniform. Power did not lie in mechanisation or automation, but in the deployment of greater manpower. Tytania wielded the greatest power in the cosmos and was, consequently, the cosmos’ largest employer.

The ground vehicle wound its way gently through the city streets, heading towards Tytania’s Tyron Representative Office.

“That is the Interstellar City League’s kontor.”

The female counsellor pointed with her bony finger at a majestic edifice featuring a high wall of Tyron sandstone and a massive iron gate. The gate faced a square paved with permeable ceramic tiles, while the building at the front displayed a string of lights from its windows, glistening like jewels. There were so many of these jewels that it was impossible to count them at a glance; they stretched to the left and right, continuing into the depths of the building, all framed by the outlines of several other structures. Amidst the rapidly deepening twilight, its grandeur made a powerful impression on Balamy’s vision.

“It’s a city in its own right,” he marvelled, though deep down, Balamy harboured a different impression.

This magnificent urban structure spoke not so much of the Interstellar City League’s authority as of its vulnerability on this planet.

Looking back at the history of humankind on Earth in ancient times, one finds examples where it was often the rulers of fallen nations, rather than those of powerful states, who built sturdy fortresses. They could not ensure their safety unless they barricaded themselves within high, thick walls. Traditionally, the inhabitants of planet Tyron were said to be unfriendly towards the Interstellar City League. Consequently, the fundamental stance of the Tyron government and its people towards Tytania had been one of benevolent neutrality.

“Viscount Balamy, you are sure to become the darling of Tyron’s high society in no time. I expect that, before the year is out, dozens of local dignitaries will be vying to offer their daughters to you.”

“I look forward to it,” replied Balamy replied in a voice devoid of both enthusiasm and sincerity.

For a Tytanian noble, it was one way of life. To marry the daughter of a local dignitary, attain wealth and influence on that planet, and live out one’s days in leisure.

But that did not sit well with Balamy’s values. To burn slowly and gently over time, turning from warm ashes into cold ones. If that were another’s way of life, he would have no intention of interfering; but if it were to be forced upon Balamy himself, he would resist it even at the cost of his life, choosing instead a way of life that burns with such intensity it eventually explodes.

“I shall ensure you return to Uraniborg as soon as possible,” had said Duke Jouslain. Could he really be trusted? Ever since being banished from Uraniborg, the sense of loneliness, his sole companion, sounded a faint whistle of suspicion. Could it be that, to Duke Jouslain, Balamy was nothing more than a nuisance?

Seated in the gently rolling ground carriage, Balamy remained silent, and the female councillor sitting beside him, perhaps sensing something too, made no move to speak.

“War has broken out! War has broken out!”

But suddenly, a shrill voice staggered into his ears.

“Tytania and Bargash have plunged into all-out war! The Emperor of Vardana has declared war on Bargash!”

A man was shouting on a street corner, his fingertip pointing at the screen of a street-side news TV. Citizens exchanged glances and quickened their pace, flocking towards the TV.

Balamy tapped the back of the driver’s seat to bring the ground vehicle to a halt. He stepped out. He had taken two or three steps towards the crowd when the female councillor called out to him. She explained that if he went to the Tytania delegation, he would be able to obtain far more comprehensive and accurate information than from the street TVs. After a moment’s hesitation, Balamy nodded and began to turn on his heel.

Suddenly, an extraordinary sense of breathlessness seized Balamy. He took several deep, ragged breaths and closed his eyes. His sense of balance faltered slightly, and Balamy found himself on one knee on the ground. A non-commissioned officer cried out and tried to help his young superior to his feet, but Balamy brushed his hand aside and remained in that position for a while. The non-commissioned officer seemed to think it might be anaemia, but it was not.

He knew the reason. Or, at least, he felt he knew it. It was the opposite of anaemia. It was an excess of blood. The blood of Tytania, swirling and coursing through Balamy’s veins, yearned to leave the planet’s surface and soar into space, surging like the tide. At this very moment when Tytania and Bargash were on the brink of all-out war, what a bitter disappointment it must be to be chained to a remote planet far from the heart of the cosmos.

“The Universe exists along with Tytania.”

So boasted the founder, Neville. The phrasing was of little consequence. It was only within the vast ocean of stars that the blood of Tytania could find fulfilment. Just as birds are not creatures of the earth, so too is the Tytania clan not a race of the earth. Balamy felt this truth with every fibre of his being.

At last, Balamy sat up and gazed at the night sky, a thin trickle of sweat glistening on his brow. The Milky Way, like white sand, cast a bewitching band across the heavens. He had to return to the depths of that night sky as soon as possible. With every passing moment, the blood within his body would grow thinner. He was a Tytanian, and to remain so, he required the very existence of the cosmos.

SY 446 was drawing to a close amidst turmoil and chaos. It seemed likely that the fleets of both the Tytania clan and the Republic of Bargash would clash head-on as the New Year’s bells rang out.

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