Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3

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Chapter 3 – The Black Prince

I

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

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I thought you might say that.”

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

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

His brother ignored his words.

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

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

“… Why…?”

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

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

His younger brother responded arrogantly:

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

“And you claim that you do?”

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

“I do.”

“Don’t speak such nonsense!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Francia.”

“Yes?”

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

“Ju…”

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

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

“Look after the Princess.”

“Yes, of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It would appear so, Duke Jouslain.”

“Teach him that other values exist.”

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

Doctor Lee pressed for confirmation.

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

“Understood.”

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

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

“And that one?”

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

“As for causing any harm to Zelpha…”

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

“Then I shall leave it to you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, this man is Fan Hyulick?

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

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

“I appreciate your hospitality.”

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

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

Jouslain remained silent, waiting for Hyulick to continue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I appreciate your courtesy.”

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

There was a moment of silence.

“He has a brother.”

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

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

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

II

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

“Are you Fan Hyulick?”

“I am, but…”

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

“I am Viscount Balamy Tytania.”

“It is an honour to meet you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t heard anything about this.”

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

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

“I have indeed read it.”

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

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

“We are setting out, Captain.”

Fifteen minutes later.

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

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

“What is that… enormous thing…?”

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

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

“How many escort vessels?”

“None. It is a solo sortie.”

“Hoh…”

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

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

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

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

Jouslain had found himself unable to stop talking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“……!”

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

“…”

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

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

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

“If you get it, then do it!”

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

“Firing preparations, complete.”

“Good, fire at once.”

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

The search officer aboard the Austra gasped.

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

“Was it not friendly fire?”

“… Ah, again!”

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

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

“All ships, all docked craft, launch!”

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

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

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

“I believe it is a sound tactic.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That again?”

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

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

“…”

“I won’t say it a third time. Fire!”

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

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

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

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

Aboard the Austra, Hyulick let out a low groan.

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

“Was it intentional?”

Hyulick nodded firmly.

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

Balamy cried out, his voice almost a shout:

“A tactic that kills their own allies…!”

“Would Idris… no.”

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

“Who exactly is aboard that ship?”

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

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

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

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

III

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

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

“It’s going to ram us… Aaaaargh!”

A scream flooded the hearing range of everyone present.

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

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

Captain Edna Fredericks spoke with fierce resentment.

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

“Don’t make impossible demands.”

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

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

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

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

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

“We-we’re saved…” gasped someone.

Jouslain offered praise.

“Splendid work, Captain Fredericks.”

“You are too kind.”

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

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

“Put it through.”

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

“Radmoth!”

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

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

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

“What happened to Idris?”

A predatory laugh was the only response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You lowlife!”

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

“Duke Jouslain.”

“What is it?”

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

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

“Eh!?”

“I’m merely speculating.”

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

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

Radmoth’s voice rang out through the communication screen:

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

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

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

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

“You have certainly become quite magnanimous, Radmoth.”

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

IV

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

Hyulick could not help but let out an exasperated voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Francia, what on earth is happening outside?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could that be Fan Hyulick?”

“It is indeed, Princess.”

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

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

“Francia, are you carrying a gun?”

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

“I’d like to try holding one myself.”

Francia felt conflicted, but she persuaded her skilfully.

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

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

“I would never suggest such a thing…”

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

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

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

“D-Duke Jouslain.”

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

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

He took a breath and then continued.

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

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

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

“No need to—”

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

“Francia! It was you…”

“Lord Jouslain, are you safe?…”

“You have saved my life.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jouslain waved his hand.

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

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

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

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

“Wait! Advancing in tight formation is dangerous!”

Balamy was loudly rebuking the officers.

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean, retreat?”

“I mean: we flee.”

“… I suppose that’s our only option?”

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

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

This time, Hyulick turned his gaze toward Jouslain.

“Please answer me, Mr Hyulick.”

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

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

Hyulick blinked at Balamy’s words.

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

Balamy shook his head immediately, and Jouslain muttered:

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

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

V

“The enemy forces are retreating.”

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

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

“What?! Then, what of our ship?”

“Me? I’ve had enough. Let’s go home.”

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

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

“The Black Prince is not moving at all.”

“What?”

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

Jouslain’s staff officers erupted into a commotion.

“What is Baron Radmoth up to?”

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

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

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

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

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

With Jouslain’s words, the matter was decided.

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

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

“Now is the time.”

“All forces, turn about!”

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

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

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

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

Jouslain extended his right hand.

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

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

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

Balamy posed a question.

“What do you intend to do now?”

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

“No, we shall not.”

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

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

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

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

“Admiral Hyulick, what are your thoughts?”

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

“I agree with the Viscount.”

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

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

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

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

Still, how had things ever come to this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is anyone there!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The Black Prince has returned to base!”

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

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

As if punctuating the end of Idris’ sentence,

“To all stations on Uraniborg!”

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

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

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