Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4

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Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System

I

Uraniborg and the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance entered into active combat, facing a common enemy. That enemy was known as “time”.

Avoiding a protracted war of attrition, Ariabert and his forces charged forward to strike at Uraniborg, while Idris held a firm position to repel them. As time passed, it seemed that the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance would either collapse due to a lack of supplies or succeed in capturing Uraniborg by bringing the armies of the various planets to their side. The former appeared more likely. Therefore, Idris decided upon a strategy of siege defence.

“At this distance, why not mobilise the full extent of Uraniborg’s mobile forces and wipe them out in a single stroke with more than twice their strength?”

Such opinions were voiced, but as Idris had anticipated that the final battle would take place around Uraniborg, he could not bring himself to thrust such a massive force of forty thousand ships forward.

Jouslain Tytania had only recently made a public declaration to the entire universe.

“We are not accusing Duke Idris without cause. If he wishes to deny our accusations, there are many ways to do so. Above all, why not present His Clanner Highness in person? Any doubt would vanish in an instant.”

The irony of this logic lay in the fact that Idris, the very person being accused, was in complete agreement with it. He didn’t need someone like Jouslain to point this out. If Clanner Ajman himself had merely stood upon the balcony of the Clanner’s Manor and declared his support for Idris to the entire universe via the communications screen, everything would have been resolved. The battles against Ariabert and Jouslain would have amounted to nothing more than a “hiking trip armed to the teeth”, as Ariabert himself had once remarked.

But that didn’t come to pass.

The 2^nd of June, SY 447. The combined fleet of Ariabert and Jouslain, consisting of twenty thousand ships passing through the outer edges of the Hashtbal System, discovered a fleet of considerable size across a fifty-light-second expanse of dark space. The screen showed them heading straight towards them.

“Assume Semi-A Class battle formation!”

Ariabert issued the order. He had added the prefix “Semi-” to “Class A” because he was not yet at a stage where he could fully read the enemy’s intentions. It wasn’t certain whether they would launch an attack suddenly without any prior sign.

Ariabert directed a question to the reconnaissance officer:

“How many enemies are there?”

“They have not reached ten thousand. I estimate around eight thousand five hundred vessels.”

“That is tricky.”

If there were fewer than one thousand, it was reconnaissance; fewer than three thousand, a probe; ten thousand or more, an all-out attack. There was no official rule, but such basic inferences could be made. Was this eight thousand five hundred just the first wave of a successive attack? If they fought, twenty thousand ships would win. However, if they pursued them while they retreated, perhaps thirty or forty thousand ships were lying in wait. What could their tactic be?

Ariabert and Jouslain consulted one another, and they reached an immediate consensus. They did not believe that Idris still possessed the resolve to decide the outcome of the conflict in a single stroke with his current forces.

“Goodness, one truly never knows what the world holds. It is cliché to say so, but a year ago I never imagined things would come to this.”

“I agree.”

Looking back, until the time of the Battle of Cerberus a year ago, Jouslain had not held Ariabert in such high regard. He had thought of him as a more approachable man than Zarlisch or Idris, and someone with whom common sense prevailed, but that was all.

Perhaps Ariabert had changed since tasting the unexpected humiliation of defeat at the hands of the unknown admiral Fan Hyulick. He had, perhaps, changed himself. Not everything had changed, but at the very least, the illusion of the “Forever Invincible Tytania” had vanished. Many people were likely still immersed in that illusion. Those on the inside were always the first to notice. And sometimes, one had to pretend not to notice.

“Is Idris in the battle command room?” asked Ariabert, as if in passing.

“If he is, he would be watching the progress of the battle with perhaps a ten-second time lag. The battle command room… When I was a child, I wanted to sit in that seat in the centre of that room. It looked quite important.”

“In the future, you can sit there as much as you like.”

Ariabert had intended it as a casual suggestion regarding his own status.

“Childhood dreams, once realised, prove to be quite trivial. Besides, well, the only time one sits in that seat is when being attacked by the enemy.”

“Ah, quite right.”

“In fact, His Clanner Highness has never sat there himself.”

“However, I believe Idris is sitting there.”

“Was he also one who harboured such aspirations?”

At present, both parties still avoided the subject, but the day would surely come when they would speak candidly about their “common father”. There had been no active desire to do so, yet they had already become companions sharing a common fate. Or rather, they had finally grown accustomed to it. It would be only natural that they would eventually speak without taboo.

Jouslain paid almost no mind to the imminent combat. As for the command of the actual fighting, he had entrusted everything to Ariabert. There was an old saying that “one mediocre general can surpass two great ones.” If they won, obviously, it was good; if they lost, it was also fine. This was an expression of his absolute trust in Ariabert’s ability to deploy and command troops, but at the same time, it might have been a form of nihilism.

Whether it was Ariabert or Idris, neither of them would have ever thought that losing was “fine”. Ariabert, and Idris in his own way, were certainly attempting to do their utmost; and if that quality was the virtue of Tytania, then Jouslain clearly lacked it. He lacked the very qualification required to be the supreme leader of Tytania.

Captain Edna Fredericks’ resolute voice called out to him:

“Your Grace, may I submit an opinion?”

“Of course.”

“Then, if I may… Regarding Princess Lydia and Lady Francia, it is my humble opinion that there is no need for them to leave this ship.”

“Ah, are you talking about that matter we’ve previously discussed? Are you suggesting that rather than evacuating them to some planet, it would be better to keep them aboard?”

“Yes. The reason being is that I believe this ship is the safest possible place.”

At that moment, Francia glanced at Captain Fredericks’ face before shifting her gaze to Jouslain. Since she said nothing aloud, Jouslain failed to notice her movement, instead weighing the female captain’s suggestion. The Austra occupied a position near the very centre of the fleet, surrounded by twenty thousand allied ships. There could be no place safer than this.

“Very well, Captain Fredericks, I shall follow your advice. The Princess and Francia shall remain as they are.”

“I am grateful. I have overstepped my bounds. Please, forgive my presumptions.”

“That is of no consequence, but you must be a little disappointed, aren’t you, Captain?”

“What do you mean by that, Your Grace?”

“Nothing. I merely wondered if, as a soldier, you found it regrettable that your chances of participating in combat are slim.”

Captain Fredericks responded with utmost gravity:

“I am honoured by your concern. However, a soldier’s duty is to see the requirements of his superiors through to completion. I shall await your further orders, just as Your Grace wills.”

Once the Captain had departed, Jouslain called for Francia in his stead:

“That is the situation, Francia. There is no need to move elsewhere. I ask that you continue to look after Princess Lydia.”

“Very well. Truth be told, I am relieved that I may remain by your side.”

Francia offered a soft smile and bowed. Though this was likely the first time she had faced such circumstances, her daily life at Uraniborg remained entirely unchanged.

“However, Francia, once this battle is over, I shall transfer to another ship. A much smaller one.”

“Yes, very well.”

“Will you not ask why?”

“I am not a soldier, so I cannot say with certainty, but considering the combat strength of the Austra and Captain Fredericks’ abilities as a soldier, would it not be a loss to our allies to exclude her from the fighting?”

Jouslain stared at Francia in involuntary surprise. He felt a double shock, both at her precise insight into his feelings and her ability to express them so aptly. He felt as though he had previously overlooked the inner strength within this pure and delicate flower. As if having received a kiss from the Austra, a faint flush crept across her pale cheeks.

Meanwhile, on another starship located about five light-seconds away, a thoroughly desolate atmosphere occupied the bridge. At its centre stood Baron Radmoth Tytania, who, being young, was radiating palpable negative energy in all directions.

“Why have you not attacked?”

Radmoth’s voice overflowed with dissatisfaction and suspicion, and was, needless to say, high-handed. He made no attempt to hide any of it, interrogating them with his pale, glowing eyes. Hyulick merely shrugged his shoulders.

“The timing was not yet right.”

“The timing? The enemy’s hull is exposed right before our eyes. If we do not attack now, when exactly do you intend to?”

“I cannot say for certain. When the moment arrives, we shall open the gun ports then.”

“And what if the enemy attacks us first? I assume, of course, that you will return fire.”

“Not necessarily.”

Hyulick did not voice the fact that there was a high probability they might flee. From the very beginning, Hyulick had taken a dislike to this arrogant young nobleman, but it appeared the feeling was mutual, as Radmoth did not even bother to pretend to observe the minimum level of courtesy.

“I presume you have considered what might become of your position within Tytania should you oppose me.”

“Do not spout such nonsense!”

Hyulick was incensed. Whether Tytania’s existence was large or small, good or evil, as long as they left him alone, he would let them do as they pleased. He would let them be, quite frankly. However, if they intended to interfere with his command on the battlefield after having forced him into combat against an enemy twice his size, it was only natural that his rebellious spirit would be provoked.

II

The Uraniborg fleet, which had ended up sailing alongside the twenty thousand ships of the Ariabert-Jouslain Alliance, was not governed by tension alone.

Some wondered what they were even doing when they were all members of Tytania, while others even dared to hope for a full-scale collision.

Zarlisch’s former subordinates preferred powerful command, simple and clear orders, and aggressive attacks. Rather, they believed that such was the very nature of combat. To lead them and make them fight with their lives on the line, one required a charisma that could rival Zarlisch’s.

Fan Hyulick possessed plenty of charisma; he certainly ought to have. Although the circumstances of the battle had been quite irregular, it was Hyulick who had caused the death of Zarlisch, the man hailed as a “ruthless general”. In that case, he should have been capable of commanding Zarlisch’s former subordinates even more effectively than Zarlisch himself. Yet, it was only natural for the human heart that the greater the devotion felt toward Zarlisch, the stronger the resentment and estrangement felt toward Hyulick became. They felt as though their very lives as warriors they had spent fighting and surviving alongside Zarlisch were being denied.

Because he understood this far too well, Hyulick hesitated to issue orders with a firm hand.

“You are quite unprepared at this late stage, aren’t you?” remarked Doctor Lee with sarcasm.

“I never once said I was prepared, you know. Or that I would become a leader of the anti-Tytania forces.”

“Rest assured, I have never heard you say it.”

“I am just saying that the media loves that sort of thing.”

“Well, that is the nature of the media. They manufacture heroes, only to drag them through the mud. Ever since the era before interplanetary flight, they have repeated this cycle without ever tiring of it.”

Doctor Lee adopted the tone of a lecturer.

“It is terrifying to criticise Tytania, while on the other hand no matter how much one slanders Fan Hyulick, there is no fear of retaliation. In order to survive, the media’s strategy is to choose opponents they can defeat before attacking. Amusingly enough, this is quite similar to military strategy.”

“I don’t find that amusing at all.”

Hyulick had maintained a sullen expression for so long that he could feel a dull, aching fatigue around his cheeks and brows. It was the price he paid for persisting with such an uncharacteristic look.

“There are even those who say Hyulick is an eternal rebel…”

Even Miranda had begun to chime in.

“It seems that’s not quite right. Eternal fugitive suits him much better.”

“Hmph. Run when winning, run when losing? It seems life is nothing more than an act of fleeing.”

A flash of light raced across the screen, silencing everyone.

The massive hull of the Ariabert-Jouslain Allied Fleet’s capital ship showered the defensive screens with dazzling sparks. Ahead of it, an orange fireball swelled, turned white, and burst apart, letting out a scream that tore through the silent world.

“Which side fired first!?”

“We don’t have time to be worrying about that!”

Neither commander had issued an order to fire. It was less an accidental commencement of hostilities than something else entirely.

Fireballs exploded. They did not erupt as single spheres but in sequences of five, ten, and more, glittering brilliantly as if they were a necklace of precious gems; it was a sight that made one forget that each single fireball represented the loss of hundreds or even thousands of lives.

Ariabert’s spindle formation did not waver in the slightest. The outermost edge of the fleet, numbering some twenty thousand vessels of various sizes, appeared to be a mobile and impenetrable wall.

“It is a formation focused on defence.”

Seraphine Coopers overheard Hyulick’s murmur and glanced back and forth between his face and the screen.

“They have lined up heavy ships with high defensive capabilities along the outermost layer of the formation. It is a structure designed to protect the high-mobility, fast-attack ships from incoming fire.”

“Can we not break through that wall with sheer firepower?”

“It would be difficult. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“Even if we did break through, it might lead to even worse consequences.”

An imp named “bad premonition” was clawing at Hyulick’s heart.

There was no way to demand cooperation or an assessment of the battlefield, but Zarlisch’s former subordinates, especially the officers of captain rank, should have been brave and well-versed in actual combat.

Having readily abandoned the tactic of group formation, Fan Hyulick took hold of the microphone.

“All ships, restrain your fire. In the event of an enemy attack…”

Hyulick’s grim face was sharply divided into light and shadow. From the wall of the enemy’s massive vessels, hundreds, even thousands, of spears of light thrust forth, racing through the void to assault the forces of Uraniborg. The storm of energy struck the great ships, erupting in a blinding brilliance; as it enveloped the smaller vessels, they were transformed into fireballs and scattered, utterly unable to resist.

The distant reaches of space remained silent, cloaked in eternal darkness, while the nearby cosmos had become a garden of raging energy, shimmering with iridescent light.

“Hyulick, has my intuition failed me? Over a hundred ships were destroyed all at once just now.”

Seraphine countered Doctor Lee’s cold remark:

“That was just the beginning! Fan defeated Duke Ariabert, and he did it twice!”

“That is a matter of the past. By using the past tense, you’ve confirmed it yourself, Sera.”

“……!”

Averting his gaze from the speechless Seraphine, Doctor Lee looked towards the back of Hyulick’s head. The target of his character analysis was restless. He was frantically scratching his carrot-coloured hair and shrugging his shoulders. He was also probably uncrossing and recrossing his legs too.

Doctor Lee attempted to peer into Hyulick’s mind as if performing a psychological X-ray. He surmised that Hyulick was likely thinking: maximum gain for minimum loss.

Far beyond the screen Hyulick was glaring at, amidst the intensifying gunfire, Jouslain had barely managed to maintain a direct channel with Ariabert.

“Do you think Hyulick will resort to some sort of trickery?”

“No…”

Ariabert shook his head.

“Even if he were to use trickery, timing is everything. If he misses his window, it will either fail to materialise or prove counter-productive. Besides, this time, it is doubtful how seriously that man even intends to fight.”

“I see.”

Jouslain believed Ariabert’s analysis to be correct. In a sense, perhaps no one knew Fan Hyulick as intimately as Ariabert did.

At present, Ariabert held an overwhelmingly advantageous position against his sworn enemy. If he were driven by a desire for vengeance, he would likely attempt to crush them with the full strength of his twenty thousand vessels. Yet, Ariabert refused to yield to that temptation, remaining dedicated to a cold and calculated deployment of his forces. There was no one who did not know the Golden Sheep as Ariabert’s flagship. Energy waves arriving from Uraniborg forces were beginning to concentrate.

An explosion of light erupted close by, and an ominous glow occupied the screen. It was a magic of light that made the faces of the living appear like the dead, and the faces of the dead appear like ghosts. Seated in his command chair with his arms and legs crossed, Ariabert watched the screen with an unmoving posture. As long as he maintained that appearance, there was no agitation on the bridge of the Golden Sheep, and naturally, such a lack of disturbance could not possibly spread to the rest of the army.

“Is the Austra safe?”

Ariabert even had the composure to pose such a question to the communications officer. Upon receiving the reply, “Completely undamaged”, he nodded as if it were only to be expected. He then issued a new command.

“Fire a second volley!”

Once again, more than a hundred flashes and fireballs occupied the screen. This time, more than ten spears of light pierced a single large vessel of the Uraniborg fleet, tearing through its thick defences. Amidst the erupting brilliance, dust seemed to swirl, mingled with the fragments of the shattered hull.

On the bridge of the Honest Old Man Junior, Radmoth moved.

A crew member of the Honest Old Man Junior who had been at the communications station was suddenly grabbed by the collar and dragged down. After shoving the crewman aside, Radmoth seized the microphone and roared:

“I am Baron Radmoth Tytania. From this moment forth, I shall take command of the entire army!”

His unilateral declaration raced through the communication circuits of every ship.

III

It had been within the realm of expectation. No one had truly believed that Radmoth would continue to meekly maintain his position as military supervisor. Everyone had assumed that, eventually, he would erupt. However, no one had expected him to resort to such a forceful act the very moment the battle commenced.

Whether it was a lack of patience or a scheme he had been plotting from the start, Radmoth roared once more, pointing his heatgun at the members of the Blaze Flag Army.

“Bring me the heads of Ariabert and Jouslain! I’ll grant you both a peerage and a title of admiral!”

“Does that guy even have that kind of authority?”

Mahdi let out a crooked smirk. To him, peerage and admiralship meant nothing at all.

However, the impact of Radmoth’s roar on the makeshift, mixed fleet of Uraniborg was unexpectedly profound. For Zarlisch’s former subordinates, who made up the majority of the fleet, being under the command of Hyulick—whom they had once derisively called a “rat thief”—was deeply distasteful. They knew that Radmoth was an immature and shallow scion. Nevertheless, he was, above all, a Tytania noble.

“Hail Tytania!”

This cry served to further heighten the excitement and spread it through the group. Ignoring Hyulick, they rushed forward in a competitive frenzy to launch their assault.

On the bridge of the Golden Sheep, Ariabert received a report.

“The enemy’s movements have changed.”

“In what manner?”

“Please see for yourself, Your Grace.”

Ariabert frowned slightly at the operator’s words, but as he stared intently at the screen, he tilted his head after two or three seconds and shifted his posture ever so slightly.

“Well, well… Did Fan Hyulick start wearing cement boots or something? It seems something has happened.”

“Your Grace, we’ve received a transmission from the Austra. Duke Jouslain wishes to speak with you directly.”

Nodding, Ariabert switched to the direct channel. Jouslain had intercepted the communications of the Uraniborg forces. After listening to the gist of the matter,

“I see. So that Radmoth brat has gone and stuck his hand into a pot of self-destruction.”

Ariabert’s expression was a mix of a wry smile and understanding.

“Understanding Fan Hyulick is one thing, but there is no way for me to know Radmoth’s tendencies in tactical matters.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, he should have no experience in commanding an army until now.”

“Whether he could be called a poor copycat of Zarlisch is debatable. But at the very least, Zarlisch was never accused of ‘killing his own allies’.”

Ariabert stroked his well-defined jaw.

“However, carelessness is the worst enemy; this holds as an eternal truth. We shall remain vigilant.”

“I’m counting on you. Even Radmoth is likely too much for me to handle.”

It was not entirely self-deprecating. Jouslain had a tendency to overthink, so he struggled against opponents who lacked any strategic depth. If faced with a monotonous, brute-force assault, he would find himself wondering, “Is there something more to this?” In that regard, Ariabert’s judgement regarding military foes was more sound.

“Damn that Radmoth… he lacks greatness, but he certainly lacks fear too.”

Ariabert reached a decision.

“Open the fourth gate. We shall drag them in from there and strike them with a triangular formation.”

After a brief pause, he added:

“Go all-out.”

The web of intersecting flashes began to shift, orderly and slowly. The fleet of large and small vessels that had formed the gateway of death either slowed their pace or descended towards the nadir, carving out cavernous spaces within the previously seamless line of ships. The return fire against the enemy’s bombardment gradually began to diminish.

It appeared as though the fierce artillery fire was punching holes through the fleet, with the gaps steadily widening. The soldiers who had fought under Zarlisch’s command remained unaware of the trap set by Ariabert’s masterfully precise fleet manoeuvres.

One of Radmoth’s subordinates shouted:

“Part of their formation has collapsed!”

“Good, charge in through there. Force the entrance open and expand it. We can split the enemy!”

“Stop, do not go in!”

Hyulick had realised it. The enemy formation had not collapsed. They were deliberately opening a gap in their lines to lure the Uraniborg forces in. The orderly movements of the enemy vessels made this clear. He was the only one to see it. This was the very reason Doctor Lee had hailed him as a genius.

Zarlisch’s former subordinates believed their fierce assault had breached the ironclad defence, and they rushed headlong towards the gap. The breach seemed to expand further, appearing almost as a gate beckoning them inside.

Towards the gateway of death.

The frenzied soldiers and sailors of Uraniborg plunged into the enemy formation, attempting to shatter the enemy lines from within. Had it been the late Duke Zarlisch, that is exactly what he would have done. However, before they could even realise what was happening, a single one of their vessels was surrounded by three enemy ships. Merciless gunfire descended upon them from three sides.

“Three against one?!” groaned Mahdi.

“If we are cornered, it is all over.”

As Doctor Lee pointed out with calm composure, Mahdi made a gesture as if looking up at the heavens.

“Yeah, it’s all over, both here and there.”

One of the displays showed the number of allied vessels. The figure, which had stood at 8,440 at the start of the battle, continued to decrease as he checked it.

Only the vessels of Uraniborg were scattering into bursts of fire. If two ships flanked a single one from the left and right, their lines of fire would cross, sometimes even resulting in friendly fire. However, if they targeted a single point from three directions—for instance, at two, six, and ten o’clock positions—the lines of fire would not intersect.

Ariabert’s tactics proved immensely effective, thanks to his skilled subordinates. The enemy charged through gates left intentionally open, seeking only to be slaughtered. The triangular formation of fire decimated them with flawless precision. Fireballs. More fireballs. When nearly a thousand ships had vanished from this dimension, the bombardment ceased, if only for a brief moment.

Originally, they had all been regular armed groups of Tytania; they had been allies. Far beyond being mere comrades-in-arms, some might have even shared the same blood. For what purpose were they fighting? Perhaps such thoughts synchronised within the hearts of the soldiers.

However, it lasted, quite literally, only for a moment. To fall behind the enemy meant passing through the gates of death themselves. The shelling resumed almost instantly, and it grew even more ferocious.

Ariabert’s tactics relentlessly whittled away the forces of Uraniborg. One after another, vessels were sucked into the fourth gate as it opened and closed, only to be destroyed by the three-to-one combat.

Staring intently at the screen, Jouslain could not suppress a slight tremor. For the first time, he witnessed the sheer ferocity of Ariabert, a man who was usually so mild and polite. It was only when Francia gently wiped his brow with a handkerchief that Jouslain realised the sweat on the nape of his neck.

Hardly any vessels managed to evade the lines of fire coming from three different directions. Far and wide, fireball after fireball was birthed, and intersecting arrows of light tore across the sea of dark matter. Silent explosions gave rise to short-lived supernovae, only to bury them just as quickly.

Watching Radmoth’s standing figure with cold indifference, Doctor Lee whispered:

“How is the situation on the battlefield, Commander?”

“We’ve been beaten.”

Fan Hyulick ran his hands through his carrot-coloured hair. He had not expected the superiority at a tactical level to be decided so perfectly.

“Duke Ariabert’s strategy was brilliant, but the soldiers and officers who executed it were also remarkable. There should be no difference in our men’s experience or proficiency, but the level of trust they place in their commander is on a completely different level.”

“Isn’t that too self-deprecating? Duke Idris, whom you were expecting so much from, would gnash his teeth if he heard you.”

“Yeah, regarding that point, I have room to shift the blame. Duke Idris should have educated his younger brother more properly.”

“Reflecting upon the history of mankind in the past…”

Suddenly, Doctor Lee’s scope of conversation expanded.

“There are many instances where brutal and forceful individuals seize power amidst the chaos surrounding the collapse of great dynasties. It does not last for a long time, but temporarily and within a limited scope, it can cause significant harm.”

“And right now, that temporary and limited scope is our very ship, right?”

As Miranda gave a wry smile, Mahdi quickly stole a glance at Radmoth’s back. Walenkov and Pagès did the same. They were, of course, looking for an opportunity to eliminate Radmoth, but his subordinates were pointing their guns at Hyulick and the others from various positions across the bridge.

While the flagship was effectively rendered paralysed, the vessels of Uraniborg were being toyed with by Ariabert’s masterful triangular formation. In other words, they were taking blows unilaterally.

Human blood rained down upon the scorching internal equipment, walls, and floors; as it evaporated, a red mist descended over the ship.

It was a phenomenon known as the “Crimson Rose Cologne”, and it was said that if any surviving soldiers attempted to wash their clothes, their white shirts would all be stained pink.

Orders that were barely more than screams were relayed throughout the vessel.

“Seal Block G! Seal Block G!”

As the bulkheads within the ship flashed an ominous red, true screams erupted.

“Wait! I’m still alive!”

A soldier who had lost a leg crawled across the floor, blood spraying from his wound like a shower. Before his very eyes, the door closed mercilessly. Some, their arms severed by the door as they desperately tried to reach through, let out fresh, dying screams. These shrieks were drowned out by the roar of an explosion, and the sealed block was transformed into an abyss of raging flames, swallowing both the living and the dead with equal indifference.

“… How terrible.”

On the bridge of the Austra, Princess Lydia uttered a sigh as she gazed intently at the screen.

“About five hundred people must have died in that explosion.”

Princess Lydia gasped at Jouslain’s words. Francia hugged her small shoulders from behind, casting a protesting look towards her master. Jouslain deliberately ignored it, keeping his eyes fixed upon the screen. He wanted Princess Lydia to know as much of the truth as possible.

“Killing people is not our primary objective, but we will not hesitate to kill if it serves our purpose. This is not unique to Tytania, though we have certainly been the most thorough in doing so…”

IV

On the bridge of the Honest Old Man Junior, where Radmoth’s angry shouts occasionally rang out, a faction of the alienated Blaze Flag Army sat sullenly on the floor.

“We’ve lost at the strategic stage.”

As several gazes converged upon him, Doctor Lee spoke in a detached manner.

“The reason both Dukes, Ariabert and Jouslain, chose a decisive, rapid strike was to hit Uraniborg directly. Well, that was not particularly difficult to predict…”

Doctor Lee met one of the staring eyes with his own.

“But the failure lies with our underachiever here…”

The surrounding gazes shifted to the Doctor’s side.

“In short, I am referring to Fan Hyulick…”

“There’s no need to repeat yourself! So, what, are you trying to say this happened because I cheated or something?”

“Shut up!” shouted one of Radmoth’s subordinates.

“The enemy’s strategy was to start and finish the battle before Hyulick could win the trust of the troops at Uraniborg,” continued Doctor Lee, his voice lowered.

Radmoth seemed preoccupied with dealing with the unfavourable battlefield situation. Though, all he did was repeatedly issue orders out of pure aggression.

“If given sufficient time and opportunity, Hyulick might win the hearts of Duke Zarlisch’s former subordinates and demonstrate his talent for military command on the battlefield. The essence of command lies in the soldiers’ obedience to a commander’s operational orders. However, at this moment, Hyulick has ended up in this state.”

“If only that greenhorn Radmoth hadn’t been here, things might have been a little better.”

“Mahdi, you are uncharacteristically sympathetic towards Hyulick. You are right, however; we were outmanoeuvred even at the tactical level. The decision to place small and medium-sized high-speed vessels within the fleet formation was a bold move to conduct mobile warfare within the ranks. Furthermore, the wall of massive ships on the outermost perimeter was not for defence but to ensure that any enemies drawn into the formation could not escape. We were thoroughly outplayed.”

Hyulick remained lost in silent thought.

Tytania and Tytania were slaughtering and destroying one another. Light and shadow raced across the faces of those present as they flickered past.

For Miranda, it was a sight that should have prompted a shout of triumph. At least, it should have been, but her expression gradually grew more severe. The primary reason was, above all else, the fact that she was unable to defeat Tytania using her own strength. To make matters worse, she found Radmoth’s lack of restraint absolutely unforgivable.

“Using Tytania to subdue Tytania.”

Glancing sideways at Miranda, Doctor Lee placed a hand on his chin.

“… If expressed that way, it sounds like a grand and sweeping conspiracy, but the reality is that the anti-Tytania faction, including ourselves, failed to achieve true unity even after two hundred years.”

In the meantime, a strange atmosphere was spreading through the various ships of Uraniborg, which had been forced into a desperate struggle.

“Hyulick was originally Tytania’s public enemy. Why on earth must we engage in a death struggle against Duke Ariabert’s fleet?”

Once such a doubt took root, a desire to avoid war instantly overwhelmed the will to fight. When a single ship, cornered in a situation where neither resistance nor escape was possible, announced, “We surrender,” it served as a catalyst, and more than a hundred ships hoisted white flags almost immediately.

It was not merely a matter of surrendering; some ships even went so far as to bombard Hyulick’s flagship, the Honest Old Man Junior, before making their escape, treating it as a bit of extra loot on their way out. It was an unprecedented display of disgrace.

Because the enemy was so utterly disordered, Ariabert found it all the more difficult to maintain orderly combat command.

“All ships, you are authorised to engage the enemy individually. Do not refuse surrenders. Do not give pursuit. I repeat. Relentless pursuit is strictly forbidden.”

Even as the announcement was being made, the chaos within the Uraniborg fleet continued to spread. There were ships that continued the fight, ships that surrendered, and even ships that were hit while floundering in confusion, blocked from escape by the wall of massive vessels.

“I wonder what kind of battle it would have been if Zarlisch had been our opponent,” muttered Ariabert through the communication system.

Understanding it was a soliloquy, Jouslain did not respond; he simply kept his eyes fixed on the screen, letting his imagination wander.

It was hard to believe that Zarlisch would concern himself with such minute tactical subtleties. He would likely charge straight ahead, with his flagship leading the way. It was a simple tactic, perhaps, but his ferocious onslaught had crushed enemies with sheer brute force, overwhelming them with a sense of defeat and a terror that far exceeded his actual numbers.

“If given the chance, I would have liked to face that man myself.”

As he spoke the words aloud, Ariabert realised that he might be a more bellicose man than he had thought. He had chosen a military career as a matter of course, though he had never been under any obligation to do so.

The thoughts of Viscount Balamy Tytania, stationed within Ariabert’s ranks, were far from simple.

Balamy had remained by Jouslain’s side until now, observing his policies and stratagems. Having been touched by the private grievances and bitter regrets of his late father, the life he had envisioned was one far more compressed than his actual age would suggest.

At present, Balamy was using every fibre of his being to observe Ariabert’s deployment of troops. Balamy had tended to underestimate Ariabert due to him being defeated twice by Hyulick, but he now realised that this had been an arrogant mistake.

He was well aware that the task was nothing short of audacious. Even so, Balamy knew he had to strive to possess the strengths of both great leaders, Jouslain and Ariabert, in their respective areas of expertise. Only by combining the advantages of both men could he truly hope to reign at the pinnacle of Tytania. At that moment, Balamy had even forgotten about Princess Lydia, his eyes staring at the screen as if possessed. Part of the reason was that Francia had stayed by the Princess’ side.

From the very beginning, Jouslain had intended to leave the combat command to Ariabert, with no intention of interfering whatsoever. However, as he observed the confusion and disorder of the enemy, the true nature of the situation began to reveal itself to him. The enemy’s forces had already been halved, and those dying were solely the soldiers of Tytania. Having obtained Ariabert’s permission, he picked up the microphone.

“To the soldiers and officers of Tytania. Cease all futile combat and surrender immediately. No past mistakes shall be held against you.”

He paused for a breath before continuing.

“If you refuse to surrender, withdraw from the battlefield. We shall not give pursuit. We cannot bear to see loyal soldiers of Tytania perish. Once you have returned to Uraniborg, convey this message to Duke Idris.”

While Ariabert’s orders were directed towards his own allies, Jouslain’s proclamation was intended for the enemy. The troops of “Uraniborg” heard it. Even within the heart of single soldiers, the futility of the battle resonated. There were, however, exceptions. Upon the bridge of the Honest Old Man Junior, the roar of a young nobleman thundered:

“I won’t permit a retreat! Fight to the very last man!”

“There is no meaning in fighting any further.”

In the presence of the raging Radmoth, one might have been deceived into mistaking the cold, composed figure of Doctor Lee for a symbol of common sense.

“We are unable to inflict any damage upon the enemy, yet our own casualties continue to rise unilaterally, and even so, we persist in this meaningless combat. This is not a hard fight; it’s a folly. Even as we speak, the dead only continue to increase.”

Before Doctor Lee could even finish, Radmoth leapt from his command seat and stood directly before him. Doctor Lee reflexively recoiled, leaning his upper body back sharply, but he was not entirely successful. A growling fist grazed across Doctor Lee’s left cheek and nose.

Doctor Lee stumbled, but rather than trying to steady himself, he threw himself onto the floor, thereby avoiding the second strike. The bridge was already in an uproar. Radmoth lifted his leg and kicked Doctor Lee’s shoulder.

In that instant, Miranda pulled a hard rubber baton from beneath her seat. She delivered a powerful blow to the back of Radmoth’s head. Radmoth let out a groan, and only his left foot moved forward a single step. Before he could react, Walenkov delivered another heavy kick to the back of the young baron’s right knee. Radmoth’s large frame froze for a split second before his knee buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor with a dull thud.

“Don’t move! Drop your weapons!”

Walenkov’s hands were bare, but his thick fingers were wrapped around Radmoth’s throat. An unpleasant sound rang out as five or six heatguns were tossed onto the floor. An expression of resignation was etched upon the faces of Radmoth’s subordinates.

“One problem solved, what a happy ending.”

Mahdi’s voice was unnecessarily cheerful. In that same interval, a psychological collapse was taking hold of the Uraniborg forces.

They fled in disorder.

Exactly as the ancient idiom described. There was no one to command the retreat, no one to guard the rear and support their comrades; they simply fled at full speed. When a heavy cruiser snagged a light-class gunboat and a fireball of destruction erupted, a small stir went through the officers on the bridge of the Golden Sheep. Rather than sympathising with the unfortunate gunboat, they thought,

“What an unsightly display for an army claiming to bear the name Tytania!”

It was only natural that such feelings were so strong.

Princess Lydia rose from her seat. After casting a fleeting glance at the profiles of Jouslain and Balamy, she set off with her lips pressed firmly together, though her stride soon broke into a run. Noticing this, Francia shook her head slightly at Jouslain and hurried after the Princess.

Jouslain silently returned his gaze to the screen.

A different scene unfolded aboard the Honest Old Man Junior.

No matter how irresponsible Fan Hyulick might have been as an individual, he did not entirely lack a sense of duty and pride as a fleet commander. While he felt no sense of loyalty toward Idris, who had unilaterally thrust this heavy responsibility upon him, he possessed enough devotion to at least do what he could. Now that Radmoth had trampled that spirit and Ariabert had exacted his vengeance on a tactical level, he intended to at least ensure that any surviving allies could escape.

However, the other vessels were in a state of extreme confusion, both in judgement and in action. There were ships that continued to fight bravely, maintaining that “whoever the commander is, our vessel shall do its utmost.” Yet, there were others that retreated, thinking, “It’s foolish to die in a battle like this.” Furthermore, some ships were even more proactive, attempting to withdraw from the battlefield altogether.

The vessels that refused to cease fighting ultimately constrained Fan Hyulick’s actions. He could not simply abandon his allies struggling through the bitter battle and flee alone.

“There are still ships fighting over there. We have to save them.”

“You can’t be serious. They’re fighting because they want to. Let’s just get out of here quickly. If we do, it’ll give them a reason to escape too. That’s the only way to reduce casualties.”

Mahdi proposed what he believed to be the best possible course of action. Miranda agreed, using her own particular way of expressing it:

“Even Mahdi can say something right once in a while. It is far too late to save those people. As befits the subordinates of Duke Zarlisch, they clearly intend to fight until the end. Let them have their way.”

“We can’t do that. Captain, turn sixty degrees—”

Hyulick’s voice cut off. Because Walenkov, wearing an expression of pity, took a glance from Miranda and brought a massive hand-strike down upon Hyulick’s nape. The carrot-top young man let out a heavy gasp, and his feet lifted into the air. Seraphine Coopers whispered into his ear, as if soothing a small child:

“You’re a hopeless man, but you must not die here.”

“Exactly,” agreed firmly Miranda. “If he were to learn later that you died in this battle, Duke Ariabert would surely find it most unpleasant. Right now, you are at two wins and one loss. Live on, and aim for a third victory, alright?”

Fan Hyulick did not respond. Not because he was displeased, but because he had fallen completely unconscious.

“Good… Miranda, let us withdraw from the battlefield at once. We must ensure they do not realise this ship is the flagship.”

“I know, Doctor. If they do, it’ll be the end of us.”

The bridge grew noticeably more frantic. As Pagès, who had disappeared to some unknown place, returned, Miranda asked:

“What about Baron Radmoth?”

“I injected him with enough sedative for three people, placed double-locked magnetic handcuffs behind his back, and bound his legs with leather straps. I’ve locked him up in the toilets.”

“Good work.”

“Don’t mention it. Comparing him to Duke Zarlisch, is like comparing a kitten to a tiger.”

“Should we kill him?”

In response to Walenkov’s question, Pagès shrugged:

“I doubt he’d grow into anything useful even if we kept him alive… What do you think, Doctor?”

“If push comes to shove, I’ll stuff him into an escape pod and send him straight to Uraniborg. I’m sure Idris will take responsibility for his younger brother’s behaviour.”

“Splendid. I look forward to watching the sibling rivalry unfold.”

Miranda laughed heartily.

The Honest Old Man Junior finally lived up to its reputation at this critical juncture. It was often said that space pirates were the spiritual descendants of ancient nomadic cavalry. They fought only when there was profit and a chance of victory. If neither were present, they would flee to prepare for the next opportunity.

The Honest Old Man Junior made a magnificent escape.

“Fan Hyulick’s fleet suffered a total defeat by the rebel forces. Heavy losses reported.”

When Idris received this first wave of dire news, he froze like a statue of flesh for a moment. To be honest, he had anticipated that bad news would be more likely than good news, but a total defeat was far beyond what he had expected.

“Hyulick, that useless bastard! He wins when he should lose and loses when he must win! When he returns, there will be hell to pay!”

Idris barely managed to suppress the impulse to slam his fist against the desk. Then, one of his aides spoke up hesitantly:

“Do you think Hyulick will return?”

“What?! What did you say…?

Suddenly, Idris’ composure returned to his master. It brought along an unpleasant companion known as a “bitter realisation of reality.”

There was absolutely no way Hyulick’s faction would return to Uraniborg. Hyulick’s group possessed neither the sense of duty nor the contrition required to crawl back to Uraniborg after such a crushing defeat just to face punishment from Idris.

Given the magnitude of the defeat, any Tytania soldier should have been subject to severe penalties; however, in the case of Fan Hyulick, that point remained ambiguous to begin with.

It was Idris who had ordered Hyulick to march, but he had not obtained the approval or permission of Clanner Ajman. If he were to be criticised for “acting unilaterally and disregarding the Clanner,” he would find it difficult to defend himself. Had they fought well and at least established a clear result, even without a victory, there might have been hope for future strategic developments; however, as it was a complete defeat, it was tantamount to announcing to the entire universe that “Tytania has fallen.”

“Issue an order for Hyulick to return! If he does not comply, place a bounty on him and secure his person. If he has something to say, I shall hear it myself… Oh right, Count Elman? Where is Count Elman?”

“What about Count Elman?”

“It was Count Elman who brought Hyulick’s faction to Uraniborg. Make him the officer in charge of Hyulick’s detention. Tell him to bear full responsibility and produce results!”

After venting his fury upon the eldest of the clan and panting heavily, Idris forced his brain cells to work desperately.

“Order all vessels stationed at Uraniborg to take up Class B battle stations. Furthermore, there ought to be more ships remaining in the various star sectors; move every single one that can be moved and gather them in the space surrounding Uraniborg. I shall take overall command.”

The day had finally arrived. Idris’ heart quickened its beat, thumping against his chest.

One of the communications officers ran to Idris’ side, saluted, and presented a slip of paper. It contained the downloaded results of the recent battle.

The losses for Ariabert, Jouslain, and the “rebel army” were estimated at 36 destroyed vessels and just over 900 dead. In contrast, the Uraniborg side suffered over 4400 destroyed vessels and over 100,000 dead.

Idris took a deep breath and exhaled, glaring at his staff officers, whose faces were etched with grief. It was not merely the defeat itself, but the fact that his officers, pale with shock, appeared utterly unreliable to him. Were Ariabert and Jouslain truly so terrifying?

“Forty thousand vessels still remain. If we include reinforcements and those on standby, the number will easily exceed fifty thousand. Furthermore, Uraniborg is impregnable and inviolable. Above all else, we have His Clanner Highness with us. Let us deliver divine retribution upon those treacherous rebels in His Highness’ very presence. Hail Tytania!”

“Hail Tytania!”

The staff officers responded in unison, but to Idris’ ears, their voices seemed to lack a certain strength.

Thus, the Battle of the Hashtbal System ended in a complete victory for the Ariabert-Jouslain Alliance, across strategic, tactical, and even political levels. However, as an inevitable consequence, the situation in which the next battle was drawn forward, with everything to be lost should they fail, had instead been accelerated.

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