Tytania:Volume 3

Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc

☆ Tytania Faction

• Ajman Tytania (41 years old)… Eighth-generation head of the Tytania Clan. Holder of the title “Landless Clanner”.
• Ariabert Tytania (28 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
• Jouslain Tytania (28 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
• Zarlisch Tytania… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke. Deceased.
• Idris Tytania (25 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
• Theresa Tytania (51 years old)… Zarlisch’s mother.
• Balamy Tytania (19 years old)… Jouslain’s senior aide-de-camp. Viscount.
• Francia… Jouslain’s lady-in-waiting.
• Lydia (11 years old)… Princess of the Kingdom of Elbing.
• Donald Farah… Counsellor to Tytania’s Clanner. Election technician.
• Theodora Tytania… Countess.
• Radmoth Tytania (18 years old)… Idris’ younger brother. Baron.
• Harsha VI (36 years old)… Emperor of the Vardana Empire. Official ruler.
• Aisha (32 years old)… Empress of the Vardana Empire.
• Leonid Granite (34 years old)… Zarlisch’s senior aide-de-camp. Commander.
• Elman Tytania (43 years old)… Ariabert’s diplomacy advisor.
• Baldren (39 years old)…… Ariabert’s staff officer. Vice-admiral.
• Paulsen (28 years old)…… Ariabert’s staff officer. Rear-admiral.

☆ Anti-Tytania Faction

• Fan Hyulick (29 years old)… Former commander of the Euria City Fleet. Became a hero after defeating Tytania, but was subsequently exiled from Euria City. Currently on the run.
• Lira Florentz… A girl who helped Hyulick during his escape. Deceased.
• Mikhail Walenkov (28 years old)… Fan Hyulick’s former subordinate. Former aide-de-camp. Sub-Lieutenant.
• Louis Edmond Pagès (27 years old)… Fan Hyulick’s former subordinate. Former Intelligence Staff Officer. Sub-Lieutenant.
• Miranda (29 years old)… Former Princess of the Principality of Casabianca.
• Compton Casimir… Captain of the Honest Old Man. Miranda’s husband.
• Lee Shanchen (28 years old)… Commonly known as Doctor Lee. Holds a PhD from planet Bargash. Currently the captain of the “Blaze Flag” army.
• Alan Mahdi (23 years old)… Former lieutenant of the Vardana Imperial Army. Currently on the run.
• Salam Amzekar (31 years old)… Former admiral of the Vardana Imperial Army. Defeated by Tytania during the Battle of the Syracusa System, currently living in exile on planet Bargash.
• Ibn Kasim… Physician. Leader of the anti-Tytania faction.
• Turbil… Commander of the Bargash Regular Army (Government Forces). Rear-admiral.
• Irk… Turbil’s aide-de-camp. Lieutenant-commander.
• Corvin… Bargash’s Minister of Foreign Affairs.
• Seraphine Coopers… Female soldier of the anti-Tytania faction.

Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War

I

Duke Ariabert Tytania greeted the first day of SY 447 in a frontier star system. It was the eternal darkness of outer space, separated from planet Bargash by a vacuum of 5.56 billion kilometres.

Two weeks prior, Emperor Harsha VI of the Interstellar Vardana Empire had declared war on the Bargash government. By imperial decree, Ariabert had set out on his campaign, commanding a fleet of 19,700 vessels large and small, and over three million soldiers. The pretext for the war was retaliation for the killing by the Bargash military of Zarlisch, one of the four dukes of Tytania alongside Ariabert.

While that pretext was not entirely false, their primary objective was to strip the Bargash government of the privileged position it had maintained within the frontier star systems. Although the Tytania Clan was, in name, subordinate to the Emperor of Vardana, in every aspect beyond mere formality, the vassal held superiority over its liege.

Ariabert’s face, which was said to be handsome yet lacking in character, had once been subject to the cold critique of being “the ideal beauty for a second-rate painter.” Even with the immense power of the Tytania, it had been impossible to silence every mouth. Ariabert’s mother had already passed away, but she was the younger sister of Duke Jouslain Tytania’s mother and was said to have been a beauty of such perfection that she evoked images of a “model for a successful plastic surgery”.

For some reason, beauty lacking individuality gave the impression of failing to convey any depth of spirit, so Ariabert’s true abilities were frequently underestimated. He reached the age of twenty-eight this year, yet with only one single exception in the past, he had always been favoured by the goddess of victory. It was only through this that he finally arrived at the level of recognition he deserved. This served as an example of the harsh reality that even among the Tytania nobility, respect was not accorded without proven ability and tangible achievements.

On this day, Count Elman Tytania, Ariabert’s diplomatic advisor, visited the enemy nation of Bargash aboard a cruiser.

It required no insight to see that Count Elman was not only a diplomatic advisor but also an observer dispatched by Clanner Ajman. Ariabert did not seek to be overly familiar with Count Elman, yet he did not shun him either. Since he had nothing to hide, his conduct remained entirely upright. It was perhaps that very lack of ambiguity that made his personality seem somewhat uninteresting. In any event, he had accepted the matter of the final negotiations that Count Elman had proposed the previous day.

“I realise this may be against your wishes, Lord Ariabert, but I would be most grateful if you would allow us to continue exploring the possibility of peace.”

“Count, it is not against my wishes. I would appreciate it if you would conduct as much negotiation as possible from your position. However, you do not have unlimited time.”

“May I ask for ten days?”

“One week.”

Once Count Elman accepted the conditions regarding the deadline, Ariabert lent him a cruiser and sent him on his way.

Vice-admiral Baldren and Rear-admiral Paulsen had already roamed the battlefields together with Ariabert as his staff officers for eight years. As Ariabert watched the point of light on the screen grow smaller, he spoke:

“Do you think the Bargash army will entrust full command of their forces to that Fan Hyulick?”

In response to the young duke’s question, Vice-admiral Baldren was the first to offer a negative view.

“I do not believe the Bargash army has lost so much confidence that they would hand command of their entire army to a band of exiled mercenaries.”

“Though they shall surely fall into such a state very soon.”

Rear-admiral Paulsen had a bellicose light shining in his eyes. At only twenty-seven years of age, his hair was cropped short, and his physique was robust. He gave the impression of being brimming with vigour. In contrast, Vice-admiral Baldren was thirty-eight. His thin cheeks and brown moustache gave him the air of a lawyer rather than a soldier.

“And if that clown Fan Hyulick decides to show his face without being invited, we shall teach him that flukes don’t happen twice.”

Rear-admiral Paulsen’s boast seemed to leave Ariabert feeling somewhat cynical.

“Losing is unavoidable, but do not lose with disgrace. Were you not told that as a child?”

“I was told that if you lose, all logic is blown out the window, so you should win first.”

Rear-admiral Paulsen puffed out his thick chest and glanced askance at him, while Vice-admiral Baldren gave a shrug of his shoulders in silence.

“Victory justifies itself. No need for loud propaganda. But for the loser to cry out that they haven’t lost is nothing short of a disgrace.”

Ariabert muttered. Although he had nearly achieved psychological reconstruction following his defeat, he could not bring himself to forget it.

The Tytania Army. Legally, it was the Strategic Mobile Force of the Vardana Empire’s military, and Ariabert Tytania served as its commander-in-chief. Naturally, his position and authority far exceeded the limits prescribed by national law.

In the extreme, the laws, institutions, and state apparatus of the Vardana Empire existed merely to ratify and justify the actions and interests of Tytania. Even the courtiers who were supposed to assist the Emperor moved mostly under the direction of Tytania. As for the Minister of Military Affairs, the position was held by none other than Lord Idris, one of the three Dukes of Tytania.

Tytania was not stingy. It never begrudged rewards to its collaborators, and many who had achieved even a modest, once-in-a-lifetime feat were treated with great generosity well into the generation of their grandchildren. There was once an unnamed medical student who saved the fourth Clanner through a blood transfusion. His life was adorned with such wealth and honour that he eventually committed suicide, unable to bear the weight of the gold leaf pressed upon his very being. Even though there were such a few tragic examples, Tytania nonetheless strove to materialise praise and gratitude in a physical dimension, and had succeeded in doing so effectively.

While Count Elman departed for planet Bargash, Ariabert reduced the relative distance to the target of invasion by 330 light-seconds, which was just under one hundred million kilometres. This military manoeuvre was something that could, in and of itself, constitute a political action. Behind Count Elman, as he negotiated with the Bargash government, the points of light upon the dark disc grew in size and intensity, poised to exert psychological pressure upon the high-ranking officials of the Bargash government.

As long as he remained awake, reports from communications officers were brought to Ariabert every fifteen minutes, informing him of the confusion and unrest within the Bargash government. They were reaching out in every direction, through alliances with other stars or peace efforts via mediation, yet they had not yet been able to reap any rewards.

Ariabert had observed this series of Bargash movements in silence. It was not an act of passivity, but rather the drawing of a bowstring to its absolute limit. As soon as the negotiation deadline expired, the Tytania forces under Ariabert’s command would launch an all-out offensive, intended to annihilate the main strength of the Bargash army within ten hours. Even though victory was already certain, there was no one left who would deign to listen to any peace proposals at this late stage.

Ariabert was a soldier of Tytania. He did not hesitate to subdue his opponents through force, even if doing so earned him the resentment of third parties. As the Clanner and supreme commander of Tytania, Ajman had once said:

“Tytania is not so brazen as to demand affection while exercising dominion. To be feared is more than enough.”

If there was any truth to the notion that the Tytania Clan lacked charm as far as their rulers go, it lay in that very perception. In Tytania’s philosophy, the idea of a “ruler beloved by the ruled” was nothing more than a joke. One could say that Tytania’s methods of governance were a quite classical application of the carrot and the stick. They provided practical benefits to collaborators and supporters while intimidating opponents with military force and authority. It was a simple equation: as long as the majority of those enjoying the benefits remained intact, the foundation of Tytania’s rule would remain unshakeable.

Those whose prosperity and stability were guaranteed by Tytania’s rule accepted the clan through the law of self-preservation, seeking to maintain the status quo, albeit with varying degrees of passivity or activity. “May this happiness last forever,” they would pray.

Thus, Tytania was poised to become the representative of the majority, the voice of the public and the common good, the ally of the people, and the embodiment of justice. Tytania, the patron saint protecting the peace, stability, and order of human society as a whole. If that were the case, then anyone who sought to overthrow Tytania would be an enemy of all mankind. This somewhat perverted conservatism, aimed at maintaining the status quo, was the greatest ally to Tytania’s permanence.

Ariabert had likely not been as sceptical as his cousin Jouslain, who was the same age as him. His very existence represented a positive aspect of Tytania’s rule, and no matter how acerbic a critic might be, they could not deny his bravery and integrity. He continued to wait for seven days. The very act of waiting until the deadline was what would grant legitimacy to his future actions.

And then came the eighth of January. The day the battle began. Not a single one of Bargash’s schemes had borne fruit.

II

Acting on the orders of Duke Ariabert Tytania, the mobile units of the Vardana Empire’s army commenced a full-scale invasion at the exact moment the peace negotiations expired. It was a lightning strike that lacked both mercy and compromise, as described by those who noted there was “not a single second of hesitation”; yet, from Ariabert’s perspective, he had already granted a reprieve of one hundred and sixty-eight hours. Since there had been no progress in diplomatic negotiations during that time, he seemed to be aware that it was, in fact, the very fact that he had refrained from using force for one hundred and sixty-eight hours that demonstrated a lack of resolve.

Although he had obtained the consent of Clanner Ajman, Ariabert’s decision could not be deemed wrong. However, even if an action is suitable for both political and military strategy, it does not mean that an individual’s psychological circumstances simply vanish. Like a massive arrow released from an invisible bowstring, the Tytanian army surged forward, meeting no resistance at all even after an hour had passed.

“Surely, they do not intend to refrain from fighting.”

Ariabert avoided giving an oral response to Rear-admiral Paulsen’s doubt. No information had ever reached the Tytania high command suggesting that the Bargash government were adherents of non-resistance pacifism. There were countless instances where they had used force to pursue their national interests whenever necessary.

While the current unfriendly situation had arisen from the untimely death of Duke Zarlisch Tytania, it appeared that Bargash had ultimately lacked the time required to complete an anti-Tytania grand alliance. The concept of an encirclement of Tytania by the various international organisations was certainly an attractive one, yet everyone sought to avoid the role of standing at the forefront. Since each party wished to toast to their survival whilst shedding tears for the sacrifices of others, an anti-Tytania grand alliance could only ever exist as a subject for a vivid painting, unless their individual egos could be sublimated in some manner.

The Tytania forces pressed further forward. As the sun of Bargash cast an orange glow on the port side of their course, just under twenty thousand silver points of light raced through the dark interstellar space. The formation was an orthodox spindle formation, with Ariabert’s flagship, the Golden Sheep, positioned near the very front. With only twenty-four cruisers and six battleships deployed ahead of it, it could be said that Ariabert was, quite literally, leading the vanguard.

On the 8^th of January, at 03:30, the first flashes of combat erupted. An unmanned Bargash patrol satellite had been destroyed by the main cannon of the cruiser Snow Panther 6.

As he watched the white glare of the fusion reactor explosion on the bridge screens, Ariabert did not appear particularly uplifted. His focus was concentrated entirely on the impending decisive battle between the main fleets, so the destruction of a mere patrol satellite was not enough to unsettle him. Under the command of such a composed commander-in-chief, the Tytania forces charged towards planet Bargash, literally venturing into uncharted territory.

On the 8^th of January, at 22:09, a cruiser approaching from the direction of the planet Bargash was detected. The cruiser, which had opened its communication circuits and flashed signals to ensure its discovery as it drew closer, was the vessel carrying Count Elman Tytania. Upon welcoming him to the flagship, Ariabert celebrated his safe return. Neither man spoke of the fact that Ariabert had commenced the full-scale invasion before Count Elman had returned. Both bore their respective responsibilities. That was all there was to it. Count Elman spoke:

“The Bargash government has stated they will make the utmost concessions for the sake of peace. They intend to enter negotiations with the aim of accepting all the peace terms presented by His Clanner Highness at the end of last year.”

“Including the right to vet the qualifications for the locators?”

“It is a difficult pill for them to swallow, but they are considering it.”

“Considering?!”

Ariabert gave a short laugh. To anyone’s eyes, he was by no means an “unpleasant man”, yet he was still capable of producing a laugh that was thoroughly Tytanian.

“I see no need for considering it any further.”

Ariabert did not particularly raise his voice, but the effect it had on Count Elman was as if a whip had lashed through the air and passed before his very eyes.

“Under normal circumstances, we should have entered into combat a week ago. The reason we waited until today was that I did not wish to abandon the possibility of a diplomatic resolution until the very end. It was precisely for that reason that I asked you to take such a risk, Count Elman.”

With a silent, expressionless face, Count Elman nodded.

“The entire responsibility for being forced into combat lies with the Bargash government. At such a late stage, what benefit is there in proposing a peace plan that consists of nothing but empty words? If there is any benefit at all, it is merely the one-sided advantage of the Bargash government buying time with dishonest intentions.”

“I wonder what profit the Bargash government stands to gain by merely buying time.”

Count Elman had posed the question with great courtesy, yet he was at least in part asking it to himself. This was true for Ariabert as well. Those who held authority within Tytania always needed to be prepared to prove their own competence. Should the Bargash government eventually succumb to the military might of Tytania, Count Elman would be the one to lead the practical operations of the peace conference, a role that any other person could just as easily fulfil. Having been granted a seat in a corner of the bridge, Count Elman declined the coffee offered to him and requested herbal tea instead. He then began to speak of the Bargash government’s response, as if merely engaging in casual conversation.

“They said that it was appalling to commence an attack before the peace negotiations had concluded. I can certainly understand how they might feel.”

“I shall listen to your grievances in due course. It is a pity, but diplomats must always clean up after boorish soldiers. I am glad I became a soldier instead.”

Ariabert’s joke was not even one ten-thousandth as clever as his military strategy. He changed the subject.

It concerned Fan Hyulick and the Blaze Flag Army. Though they were originally exiles, they were supposed to have been incorporated into the Bargash Regular Army. While they were not a significant military force, Count Elman believed he knew the reason Ariabert could not simply ignore them.

“Does it concern you, Lord Ariabert?”

“It does.”

With his malicious question answered so easily, Count Elman found himself exerting a minute effort to control his expression. The man who had inflicted Ariabert’s only defeat in his entire life was the exile Fan Hyulick. By the singular fact of having defeated Ariabert, the name Fan Hyulick had been etched into the memories of his contemporaries. It was a proper noun that should have been unpleasant to Ariabert many times over.

“I see, Lord Ariabert. It appears that the breadth of your mind might be greater than that of Lord Idris. Lord Idris’ pride has always outweighed the virtue of straightforwardness…”

Count Elman did not voice his inner thoughts. There was no guarantee that the time to revise those thoughts would never come. For the future was not merely a simple extension of the present, and the possibility for change was infinite.

“It is likely that Fan Hyulick’s faction is lying low somewhere on the planet, waiting for the storm to pass. I do not know anything more. At least, not for now.”

“If they are merely hiding, we need not fear. A famed sword is only useful if it is wielded. If left buried in the earth, it does nothing but rust.”

Ariabert gazed at the screen. Count Elman cleared his throat.

“This is merely my personal opinion, but the Bargash government may be intending to detain them, only to hand them over to us at the final moment to establish a peace built upon their sacrifice.”

“They are free to think what they wish, but we have no need to comply.”

An unpleasant tremor tainted Ariabert’s voice. His fastidiousness as a warrior made it impossible for him not to loathe such a solution. If he placed the highest value solely on the reduction of bloodshed, he would have chosen the path of a diplomat. There were plenty of things in this world that could not be resolved through military force. The duty imposed upon Ariabert’s office should have been to efficiently resolve matters that fell within the scope of what could be settled by arms.

As Count Elman took a sip of his second cup of herbal tea, a report from a reconnaissance officer reached Ariabert. A fleet numbering in the thousands was cruising at a ten o’clock position relative to the allied fleet. “Should we divert forces to engage them?” asked the officer.

“Unnecessary! It’s a diversion.”

Ariabert’s response was clear. Given the total strength of the Bargash army, a strategy designed to pincer the Tytania forces was simply impossible. It would have achieved nothing more than the dispersal of their already limited numbers, which ran contrary to the fundamental principles of troop deployment. He did not believe the Bargash leadership was so incompetent as to commit such a foolish error. If they were to act in such a manner, it would have been more likely that they were preserving their strength to await a better opportunity another day.

Another day? A bitter smile flickered at the corner of Ariabert’s lips. Did the Tytania central leadership truly believe that such a day would be granted to Bargash? Nothing but a fate of absolute subjugation awaited them. Or were they perhaps weaving some scheme that far exceeded the predictions of Ariabert and his men? It was a well-known fact that the military might of Bargash could not be considered an equal to that of Tytania. From Tytania’s perspective, the true essence of a lion lay in using its full strength even to hunt a mere rabbit; yet, to the rabbit, the match must have seemed unfair from the very beginning. It was only natural that they would attempt to trip the lion with cunning. Conversely, the lion must ensure that the rabbit would never be granted the opportunity to employ such guile.

Thus, on the 9^th of January, at 16:40, the Tytania forces reached the orbital path of planet Bargash and secured complete air superiority. Not a single drop of blood was shed. Up to that point, at least.

III

On the 10^th of January, from 00:00, the surface of planet Bargash was subjected to fierce bombardment by the Tytania forces for a duration of four hours. Targets were carefully selected, ensuring that civilian facilities, residences, and infrastructure were excluded. The Tytania forces could not afford to incite hostility among the citizens of Bargash, nor could they allow production facilities to be destroyed, for they intended to collect enormous reparations.

For Tytania, war was a political act as much as it was an economic one. The military facilities of the enemy camp were literally annihilated, allowing the group of companies under Tytania’s umbrella to monopolise the reconstruction of the facilities and the supply of military goods after the fact. There had been similar examples among the great powers of the past, but Tytania linked the destruction caused by war with post-war reconstruction into a single system, ensuring that they secured interests throughout every stage and outcome of the process. In this regard, even if Tytania claimed it was a “just war”, it was by no means a falsehood. This was because, for Tytania, the pursuit of profit was justice itself.

The attack targets—eight military spaceports, anti-aircraft fire control centres, military satellite remote control centres, four military spacecraft construction factories, and sixty other locations in total—were completely destroyed, in the most literal sense of the word. After launching three thousand Uranium-238 missiles, and while flames and black smoke still smouldered, the Tytania forces carried out their landing, eventually forcing the Bargash government to capitulate. On the surface, it was a total victory.

However, it soon became known that it was a lie. Bargash’s space forces were nowhere to be found on the surface; only the facilities had been destroyed, and furthermore, Fan Hyulick and his faction were nowhere to be seen. To their conquerors, the Bargash government gave a shameless explanation: that Fan Hyulick and his men had seized the Bargash fleet and fled, and they denied having anything to do with them.

“How cunning…” muttered Ariabert under his breath.

At the same moment, a sense of unease, which could only be described as strange, stirred in a corner of his usually stable mind. He wondered whose plan the Bargash government’s stratagem, which was undoubtedly cunning, had followed. The first names to come to mind were those of Fan Hyulick or the high command of the Blaze Flag Army.

Leading the ground forces and accompanied by Count Elman, Ariabert entered the Bargash Central Administration and presented his demands to Corvin, the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the representative for the negotiations.

“In that case, I shall request that you disclose the whereabouts of Fan Hyulick and the Blaze Flag Army.”

“To be honest, therein lies the problem…”

The attitude of Corvin, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, was one of deep subservience. Just as when he had visited Uraniborg the other day as an envoy for peace negotiations, his mannerism was one of servility and incompetence wrapped in a bureaucratic shell. But although it appeared he might die of shame from a single reprimand from Tytania, Count Elman sensed an unexpected tenacity in him.

The negotiations continued for over an hour without a single concrete concession being made. They did nothing but politely repeat apologies and excuses, which, when their claims were distilled, amounted to nothing more than, “We know nothing of it, we are victims ourselves.” Had it been the late Duke Zarlisch Tytania, he would have slammed his fist onto the desk and erupted in fury, but such a thing was impossible for Ariabert. Concealing his contempt and anger beneath a veil of etiquette, he declared the futility of the negotiations and confirmed one matter before rising from his seat.

“If they are apprehended, they shall be dealt with severely under the laws of the Vardana Empire. I trust your government has no objections to this?”

“Of course not. Their foolishness also tarnishes the dignity of Bargash. While it is painful to endure, there is no better way to express that we have no choice if we are to maintain peace and order throughout the entire universe. This matter deeply shames us…”

The response from the Bargash government was the very pinnacle of both courtesy and vacuity. The faces of Corvin and the rest of the delegation were marked with countless signs of insincerity, and the young staff officers, led by Rear-Admiral Paulsen, were forced to exert considerable effort to restrain their desire for violent retaliation. They pleaded incessantly with their commander-in-chief, Lord Ariabert, for punishment against the Bargash government’s duplicity, but Ariabert did not respond.

Though gripped by bitter resentment, Ariabert was a man far removed from outbursts or explosions of temper. He sought to uphold diplomatic etiquette toward the Bargash government to the greatest extent possible. However, what made him a Tytanian was his understanding that the “greatest extent” and the “infinite” were not synonymous, and his awareness that even should he erupt, it must be done with careful consideration of timing and effect.

“If that is what they wish, then so be it. We shall proceed in the Tytanian manner,” murmured Ariabert to himself.

It was on the 1^st of January that Clanner Ajman received the report from Ariabert at Uraniborg, the seat of the Tytania Clan. The Clanner was at a breakfast gathering, accompanied by two dukes, Lord Jouslain and Lord Idris.

The silk tablecloth, the finest porcelain and silverware, the eggs, bread, butter, and bacon—every item had been selected with an almost obsessive consideration for both flavour and nutrition. It should have been an ideal breakfast, yet Duke Jouslain Tytania found his appetite entirely uninspired. The most essential seasoning—a sense of camaraderie and light-hearted conversation—was sorely lacking from this elegant table. The Clanner brought up the report from Bargash that had arrived that morning.

“Lord Ariabert is an orthodox military strategist and a man of sincere character. The Bargash government would likely deem it foolish to engage him in a head-on battle.”

“It is an unusual stratagem rather than an ingenious one. That is precisely why Lord Ariabert was caught off guard. I believe he had no other choice.”

If Idris’ remarks sounded tolerant, it was only because they were filtered through a sense of superiority. He was the Minister of Military Affairs of the Vardana Empire at a young age, and with Zarlisch now deceased, he stood in a position to share leadership of Tytania’s military operations with Ariabert. While Ariabert’s failure or stagnation did not directly grant Idris an advantage, they did serve as a source of minimal psychological amusement.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had accompanied Ariabert on the expedition to Bargash. Jouslain felt a slight sense of anxiety and regret. Since he was of equal rank to Ariabert, he had feared being in a position to unduly influence his cousin’s military authority; yet, perhaps it would have been better if he had handled the Bargash government himself, allowing Ariabert to focus solely on military matters.

“If things were to proceed as bloodlessly as this, I might as well have taken command… though, in that case, the Bargash army would likely have simply challenged us to a head-on naval battle.”

For the past several years, Jouslain had lacked experience in commanding large armies in decisive, direct confrontations with the enemy. The division of labour “Lord Ariabert for military matters, Lord Jouslain for politics” had been a natural arrangement for them. Rather, men like Idris possessed practical experience in both spheres. While the division of roles between Ariabert and Jouslain appeared to have been rewarded by a solid track record of success so far, it remained a seed of anxiety that felt almost like a needless worry.

When Tytania’s vast and complex networks split into civil and military factions, might the two men not be propelled by their respective parties into a confrontation? Such whispers existed both within and without Uraniborg, and even with all the power of Tytania, it was impossible to eradicate such microscopic rumours.

Idris cast a venomous glance towards Jouslain while feigning complete indifference. Jouslain, for his part, had to pretend to have ignored it. He turned his gaze toward the Clanner and made his proposal.

“Your Clanner Highness, if you would grant me permission, I, Jouslain, shall travel to Bargash to assist Lord Ariabert.”

“Hmm. I wonder if Lord Ariabert might feel his authority is being encroached upon.”

“I have no concerns regarding that matter.”

Ariabert isn’t Idris. Jouslain wisely refrained from voicing this thought aloud. Idris increased the amount of venom contained within his gaze. Clanner Ajman casually picked up his coffee cup, the colour of the liquid, blacker than the abyss of night, reflected in his eyes.

“I wonder what Lord Ariabert’s aides might think. Would they not feel that their superior’s competence is being questioned? It would not be fitting for a man like you, Lord Jouslain, to fail to consider such a point.”

There was a note of cold mockery in the Clanner’s voice. Idris’ lips curled into a biting crescent, but he was wise enough to hold his tongue. It seemed that, quite unintentionally, Jouslain had contributed to his cousin’s enjoyment of the morning.

“I was thoughtless. Please forgive my lack of maturity.”

“No need to apologise. Besides, Lord Jouslain, the fact that you failed to consider this is surely because you truly empathise with Lord Ariabert’s position. Political considerations are always impure.”

The aroma of coffee rose from the cup held by the Clanner. And from Idris’ cup as well. Although they could not have been in accord, the reason it felt as though they shared the same miasma lay in Jouslain’s own psyche. This morning’s coffee tasted bitter across his entire nervous system.

Was it really so unpleasant to have been slighted by the Clanner, even if only temporarily? Was he satisfied merely by being held in high regard by the Clanner? In the end, was his way of life really any different from that of a low-ranking official, who spent his time gauging his superior’s mood and oscillating between joy and despair at every change in expression? Jouslain’s introspection led directly to a mild sense of self-loathing. This could not be described as a healthy state of mind for him.

IV

Having finished the breakfast meeting, Jouslain would normally have headed straight to his office, but instead, he altered his course and made his way towards his psychotherapy room. The owner of that room was a young girl who would celebrate her eleventh birthday within the year, known to the public as Princess Lydia of the Kingdom of Elbing. Although legally she was Jouslain’s ward, mentally, they appeared to be equals.

Princess Lydia, who had also just finished her breakfast, greeted her guardian with great vigour. Whether by someone’s design or not, everything from her small ribbons to her socks had been unified in shades of green, making her look like a young witch frolicking through a forest of fresh greenery. The two of them travelled together to the Second Spaceport. The observation deck there served as the favourite debating ground for this peculiar pair.

“If one must resort to trickery in order to defeat Lord Ariabert, then even I would do so. The disparity in strength would be simply too great to fight square and fair.”

Jouslain acknowledged Princess Lydia’s opinion regarding the situation facing Lord Ariabert. For Tytania to demand that their enemies fight fairly and honourably could be seen as an arrogant imposition by the powerful. It was a scene akin to a giant being expected to duel an infant. Flicking her finger against the surface of the transparent wall, Princess Lydia fell into thought for several seconds before finally withdrawing her hand and asking:

“Would Lord Ariabert be capable of killing an opponent who offers no resistance?”

“He would not, I expect.”

“Could he kill women or children?”

“I don’t suppose he could.”

“Could he attack hospitals or schools?”

“No,” repeated Jouslain. Princess Lydia moved her fingers once more. It appeared she was drawing something upon the surface of the transparent wall.

“Lord Ariabert is a good man, but it will be to his detriment if it becomes known. Do you not agree, Lord Jouslain?”

“A keen insight; I am impressed.”

Jouslain bowed respectfully. Though he had spoken in jest, he was inwardly impressed. Princess Lydia’s political insight was far beyond the reach of an ordinary adult. When Tytania stood preeminent and powerful across the entire universe, possessing the luxury to display tolerance and moderation, Ariabert’s chivalrous integrity would be an ideal quality for a leader. However, if an opponent had discarded their white gloves to don soiled ones right from the start, he might find himself caught off guard.

Princess Lydia gazed solemnly at her fingertips, which she had withdrawn from the transparent wall.

“There is but one thing that concerns me.”

“What is it, Princess?”

As Jouslain cast an interested gaze upon her, Princess Lydia tilted her head slightly. It seemed she was choosing her words with great care.

“If the Clan, uhh, if the Clanner were to order Lord Ariabert to kill women and children, would Lord Ariabert obey that command?”

Jouslain looked back at the Princess as he replied, though his tone might have been somewhat professorial.

“Princess, Lord Ariabert is a noble of Tytania. And for Tytania, the orders of the Clanner are absolute.”

“Absolute, is it?”

“If they were not, it would not be Tytania.”

Jouslain could not bring himself to offer Princess Lydia a false reply. He felt that doing so would be dishonest to the intelligent young girl. Tytania was not an organisation that placed humanity as its highest value and pursued it above all else. They would uphold humanitarian principles only when they judged it to be to their advantage. Jouslain’s decision to protect Princess Lydia, despite there being no profit in it, was at present due solely to his own personal sentiments.

“And what of you, Lord Jouslain? If the Clanner gave you an order, would you obey it?”

He had fully expected that question. Nevertheless, Jouslain found himself unable to answer immediately. He had yet to find a final answer regarding the possibility of the coexistence of sitting upon a tower of power and upholding the dignity of a common human being. It was a question he had continued to ponder since his boyhood, and yet he had failed to reach a conclusion.

“I do not know.”

After a period of deep contemplation, he answered:

“I may refuse to accept being of Tytania, but perhaps I will be unable to do so. It is regrettable that I cannot answer with full confidence, but I intend to do everything in my power to ensure the Clanner is not compelled to issue such an order.”

Tytania had been harsh, utilitarian, and ruthless up until now, but they had never been unnecessarily cruel to the common citizenry. They had never been driven to such an extremity. Until now, that is.

“So even you, Lord Jouslain, do not know yourself.”

“Regrettably not.”

“And yet, you claim to understand Lord Ariabert?”

Princess Lydia’s question left Jouslain speechless. It was an unexpected psychological blow. In other words, was Jouslain unconsciously looking down upon his maternal cousin of the same age? Was the belief that he could insightfully perceive Ariabert’s psyche, even while his own remained unreadable to him, nothing more than groundless arrogance?

Of course, this applied not only to Ariabert but to Idris as well. Jouslain believed that if the responsibility for humanitarian matters could be placed upon the Clanner, then Idris would not hesitate to engage in destruction or slaughter. However, no such precedent existed. Perhaps it was merely Jouslain’s own prejudice.

“Did I offend you, Lord Jouslain?”

A somewhat worried voice drifted into Jouslain’s consciousness, and the young Tytania high noble returned to the real world. He met the gaze of the young girl, which seemed to be scrutinising his face.

“No, quite the opposite. You have given me a wonderful hint. I shall keep it in mind from now on.”

“Hmm. You truly do treat a child as a fully-fledged adult, Lord Jouslain.”

Princess Lydia let her expression break.

“There are many mysterious things about you, Lord Jouslain. That is what I like about you. Oh, and by mysterious, I do not mean strange or odd.”

“I understand.”

Jouslain smiled as well, and a certain thought came to mind. He made a request to the Princess. He had considered this the other night, but he felt it would be beneficial if Princess Lydia could send a mail to Viscount Balamy Tytania, who had been driven away from Uraniborg due to a trivial incident. It would aid in his mental stability.

“Could I ask this of you, Princess?”

“I do not mind. I have been wanting to write to Bal anyway. But do you think it will be effective?”

“It certainly will.”

After making that calm assertion, Jouslain added jokingly:

“Lord Balamy is an individual who will carry the future of Tytania on his shoulders. If you place him in your debt, it will be of great benefit to your homeland.”

“I wonder if Bal will even perceive it as a favour.”

Princess Lydia laughed, as if mocking the logic of an adult, and turned her gaze towards the regular vessels docked at the Second Spaceport. Beside her, Jouslain also gazed at the ships that traversed the galaxy.

“It appears that as long as even a single person remembers them, humans can endure both idleness and isolation. I am certain he will be pleased.”

He stopped his sentence there, wishing to keep the topic on the level of generalities. The sharp-witted Princess Lydia held a flicker of interest and suspicion in her eyes, but what she said of was something else entirely.

“In that case, I shall write to ask how Bal is faring. I hope he is well.”

“If you get some news about him, please let me know as well.”

Princess Lydia looked up at Jouslain, then skipped forward about three steps along the polished, wide corridor.

“My fees are quite high.”

“Tytania is not known for being stingy, Princess.”

“That is true. As long as it remains generous, Tytania shall continue to enjoy the support of many.”

Had an adult spoken in a sombre tone, such a remark might have been perceived as nothing more than an expression of malice. However, when Princess Lydia uttered those words with such a spirited tone, it sounded like a clear and precise observation regarding the very nature of Tytania. Jouslain could not help but nod in sincere agreement, along with a wry smile. Truly, who could ever desire or find joy in a stingy Tytania?…

Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds

I

Viscount Balamy Tytania was on planet Tyron. He had been appointed as a counsellor to the Tytania resident mission in this land at the end of the previous year. Prior to this, at the age of eighteen, he had served as the senior aide-de-camp to Duke Jouslain Tytania, holding a position at the heart of Uraniborg, the ancestral seat of his clan.

His sudden relocation to a frontier sector was the result of a personnel decision that was better described as a temporary exile than a demotion. This was an event not included in his life plans, and the resulting sense of frustration was profound; yet, unless he could achieve psychological recovery, his future would not be a bright one. He had managed to somehow achieve some mental recovery even after the sudden death of his father, Marquis Estrade Tytania. Compared to that, this recent personnel change should be a trifle.

At the resident mission, he had been provided with his own office, a secretary, and a flat, yet he had no specifically defined duties. The mission treated this Tytanian youth with great courtesy, but they had no intention of entrusting him with actual operational responsibility or authority. Rather, it was more a matter of subtly monitoring Balamy to ensure that he did not cause any further trouble. Balamy understood the situation perfectly well, but that understanding served only to offend the ambitious youth.

“Have you heard about the state of affairs on Planet Bargash? Lord Ariabert may be a mighty commander, but it is impossible to fight and achieve victory when there is no opponent to fight.”

“So, where on earth is the Blaze Flag Army? They cannot keep running away forever.”

“One way or another, they must be plotting something. Otherwise, those Bargash folk are fools. They’ll only end up provoking Tytania.”

Balamy overheard these kinds of conversations, both inside and outside the resident delegation.

Those who had hoped for a great decisive battle between the main fleets of Tytania and Bargash felt a sense of disappointment. They were military industrialists, engineers, military researchers, solivision reporters, or merely hecklers. In any case, on planet Tyron, it seemed that both Tytania and Bargash were nothing more than subjects for third-party commentary. At least for the time being.

“Well, this state of affairs can’t continue forever. It has merely delayed the inevitable for a while. That said, to have failed to grasp the Blaze Flag Army’s escape… one might assume that Tytania’s intelligence-gathering capabilities have grown a bit rusty.”

To say it was merely “a bit” was an understatement in Balamy’s estimation, and it was likely Ariabert’s perception as well.

It was said that the personnel of the Tytania intelligence division stationed in Bargash and the surrounding star sectors were facing a disgraceful situation, their faces flushing with shame and embarrassment. In the end, they had judged that the matter was concluded by Ariabert’s great offensive, and since their activities were also hindered by the onset of the state of war, they had withdrawn, resulting in this unsightly display. Once they let their target escape their net of reconnaissance and espionage, recapturing them was no easy feat; they were now left lamenting at just how vast the universe truly was.

If he could search for the whereabouts of Fan Hyulick and the Blaze Flag Army before anyone else, Balamy’s competence would receive its due recognition, and he might even realise his return to Uraniborg. He might even be recommended by Lord Jouslain and appointed to a position of importance. The young man decided it was a pursuit worth undertaking.

The term councillor referred more to a person’s status than to their actual duties; in a sense, it was a sinecure, but in return, it granted a great degree of freedom in one’s actions and flexibility with one’s time. This allowed for a dedicated focus on important matters and special assignments, and in that regard, Balamy had no concerns.

However, matters of finance did not always bend to Balamy’s will. His salary as a councillor was more than sufficient to cover his personal living expenses; among his colleagues in their forties, there were even men who lived quite comfortably, supporting wives, three children, and elderly parents, all while maintaining multiple mistresses. It exceeded the salaries of the ministers of the Tyron planetary government by some thirty percent. Furthermore, various expenses could be recorded under various headings, and funding was provided by local businesses and influential figures. Without ever having to resort to illegal acts or incur the resentment of others, one’s private wealth could be fattened quite naturally.

Balamy held little interest in or attachment to money itself. His desire for wealth stemmed from the need to possess and maintain a private intelligence network. He required both personnel and the financial resources to support them. Balamy lacked both. On this frontier planet, he was utterly isolated and without aid. He had no confidants nor any advisors. Because Balamy was a Tytania noble, there were many local influential figures who sought to curry favour with him, but he had no affection for most of them. They were nothing but mediocre philistines, and none were worthy of his trust or respect.

That was the realisation he had reached within almost four weeks of his arrival in Tyron. He had never originally been a particularly sociable young man, but since setting foot upon the surface of Tyron, he had become noticeably ill-tempered and difficult. He did not go out of his way to reprimand others or behave violently, but the presence of an invisible wall rejecting those around him was so evident that he was beginning to be shunned within the resident representative office.

Balamy did not care for such things. He was preoccupied with considering the matter of the planet Bargash and held a critical view of Lord Ariabert. In his eyes, the insincerity of the Bargash government was something that could have been entirely predicted.

“Is politics not the art of preventing them from doing exactly that? Is, after all, Lord Ariabert’s mindset only that of a soldier?”

Balamy’s excessive youthful vigour tended to run ahead of him, nearly leading him to underestimate the elders of his clan. The only person he held in high regard, much to his own chagrin, was his superior, Lord Jouslain. While he acknowledged Ariabert’s talent, Balamy could not suppress the thought that he himself would have pursued a different approach.

… Had Ariabert known Balamy’s true thoughts, he would have merely laughed and dismissed them as “full of spirit”. To Ariabert, Balamy’s presence was still insignificant. He concerned himself only with his two cousins, Jouslain and Idris, and his relationship with Jouslain had been friendly in recent years. He believed he only needed to keep a watchful eye on Idris’ excessive ambition. At that moment, having established his position on the planet Bargash with a large army, he had received several conflicting reports regarding the whereabouts of the fleeing Blaze Flag Army.

“Verify the authenticity of this information.”

A predictable order was issued from Ariabert’s command. The Tytania expeditionary force busily gathered intelligence, yielding immense results. Though perhaps “excessive” would have been a more accurate description than “immense”. If all the information they collected were true, Fan Hyulick and the Blaze Flag Army would simultaneously exist in fourteen different locations across the galaxy. Furthermore, the distances between these various points in space were separated by as much as six hundred light-years.

Staring at the display on the operation screen, Ariabert gave a short, wry smile. It required no effort at all to see the true nature of the situation. Most, if not all, of the information was false. It appeared that while moving through space, the Blaze Flag Army was scattering multiple layers of decoys and false reports to conceal its whereabouts.

“Fan Hyulick will certainly make a move. He will either raid some supply base or pick a fight with a small fleet. A single defeat is unavoidable. It would be beneficial if such an action revealed their location.”

This statement made it clear that Ariabert Tytania possessed an extraordinary spirit. The staff officer lacked the magnanimity of his supreme commander. It was the young Rear-Admiral Paulsen who voiced his apprehension and anxiety.

“It may take longer than expected. If their objective is merely to stall for time, they may remain low-profile and not engage us.”

In response to that opinion, Ariabert replied nonchalantly:

“That’s fine for now. We shall proceed with establishing the effective control of planet Bargash without being hindered by military interference.”

Ariabert laughed. It was a beautiful laugh, yet one could see the flash of a naked blade beneath it. If the Bargash government viewed Ariabert as an easy target, it merely provided him with more opportunities to take advantage of them. He was Tytania, and Tytania cared not about being insulted.

While he was not as blatant as his cousin Idris, Ariabert also remained steadfast in his pride as a Tytanian and his political values. Those who plotted to toy with the Tytanian nobility deserved to receive a rightful retribution for their arrogance. If Bargash were to perish, it would be by virtue of its own errors and folly. “I suppose I shall test their mettle,” Ariabert thought to himself.

II

Balamy’s heart leapt when he was informed that mail had arrived from Uraniborg. He had felt a certain premonition. While he tried to remind himself that it would be miserable if he raised his hopes only to be disappointed, he inserted the 3D video cassette into the projector. Two and a half seconds later, the image of a lively and spirited young girl appeared before him.

“Bal, are you well? I am doing fine. Indeed. I don’t even have any cavities. Isn’t that commendable of me?”

Princess Lydia smiled at Balamy from the screen, showing off her healthy, white teeth. Balamy nodded weakly. He could not help but flush with shame at his own naivety, having allowed himself to believe for two and a half seconds that this might be a summons.

“Are you disappointed, Bal?”

“No, Princess, not at all.”

Balamy found himself answering the image reflexively, as if his very thoughts were being peered into, and clicked his tongue in irritation once he realised what he had done. It was utterly ridiculous that a young man with such ambitions, who aimed for the highest rank in Tytania and, by extension, dominion over the entire universe, should be moved by the words of a little girl.

“Uraniborg is lonely without you, Bal. I have no friends here, so it is boring. Let’s see… how is Tyron? Is it fun?”

“It is not fun,” Balamy replied silently to himself.

“Bal, you pick fights even when you don’t have to. I like fighting too, but you’re better off avoiding it. Make allies instead of enemies. You only have Lord Jouslain and me on your side, don’t you? Get along with everyone, and come back to Uraniborg soon. Lord Jouslain says the same thing.”

The letter ended with the image of Princess Lydia waving her hand. Balamy paused, his hand halfway to retrieving the cassette, and sat back down in his chair.

“Get along with everyone, huh?…”

Balamy muttered, his voice thick with deliberate disdain. “How nice it must be to be simple like a child”, he remarked aloud. Suddenly, he realised the age gap between himself and Princess Lydia. Only eight years ago, he had been the same age as her. On the other hand, Lord Jouslain, whom he secretly regarded as his true rival, was nine years his senior. Balamy was closer in age to Princess Lydia than he was to Jouslain. It left him feeling a strange, sudden urge to reflect upon his own immaturity and lack of strength.

After lunch, Balamy visited the office of the resident representative. Balamy had heard that resident representatives in such lands generally fell into one of two types. There were the ambitious young upstarts who viewed the position merely as a starting point. And then there were the elders who accepted the seat as their final destination. The current representative, Mr Christopher Emerson, belonged to the latter type. He was by no means incompetent or regressive, but he was a man who believed that steadfastness and safety were the highest virtues and an apostle of conservatism with a profound loyalty to authority.

Thirty years Balamy’s senior, he treated the young Tytania nobleman exactly as was his custom. He was polite and courteous. But he granted him no actual authority. He did not seek to form any personal friendship, either. To make him do so, Balamy would have had to take the initiative to approach him. Of course, an overbearing attitude would yield nothing, as barren as frozen earth. Thus, Balamy conducted the negotiations by enveloping his noble prestige within an atmosphere of cordiality.

“I shall return to the heart of Tytania in the latter half of this year. It will be at the behest of Lord Jouslain. To that end, and also in accordance with Lord Jouslain’s wishes, I wish to collect and analyse information regarding the anti-Tytania faction. I ask for your cooperation.”

He had not misused Jouslain’s name; he had made good use of it. Regarding that point, Balamy felt no guilt. It went without saying that from the moment he had first arrived on this planet, he must have been perceived as Jouslain’s partisan. Even if Jouslain himself had no intention of forming a faction, to any outsider, it appeared as though a distinct political group had been established. After all, Balamy was Jouslain’s senior aide-de-camp and his kinsman. It was expected that he held great trust, and that even should he stumble once more, his future remained highly promising.

Even if he had no intention of showing personal favour towards Balamy, he would certainly calculate how to earn a debt of gratitude from Jouslain. Mr Emerson’s thought process was steadfast and rational, making him quite easy for Balamy to read. If an equation formed in his mind where the statistical probability of Lord Jouslain becoming the next Tytania Clanner exceeded fifty-one percent, Mr Emerson would be inclined to cooperate with Balamy.

The equation held true. Mr Emerson allowed his solemn expression to soften, praised Balamy’s enthusiasm and vision with measured words, and declared that he would offer his cooperation, “provided it does not compromise your other duties within the delegation”. It seemed he had required some time for a final verification, but the fact that an answer was obtained within the day suggested that it had not been such a difficult problem to solve.

Balamy pondered on this with a touch of irony, but of course, he expressed his polite gratitude for the representative’s goodwill and understanding aloud. At the same time, he told himself. For the time being, he must act as a partisan of Lord Jouslain and secure his own position, and he must never neglect the effort to make it appear so.

Balamy thought of his late father, the Marquis Estrade. There was a pain in his chest, but the wound had long since dried. Once, Balamy had sought to satisfy his own ambition and vigour by elevating his father to the highest office. It felt as though a vast amount of time had passed since then, yet not even a single year had elapsed. In that time, he had learnt one thing. That the path of ambition and the shortest route are almost never the same.

On that very day, Balamy secured the right to access the delegation’s main computer and installed a terminal in his room; he had considered adding triple encryption but decided against it. If Mr Emerson set his mind to it, there were plenty of ways to bypass such locks, and Balamy felt it would be better to maintain an attitude of complete trust in him for the time being. As Princess Lydia had said, he should “get along with everyone”. It certainly seemed better to maintain that pretence.

Less than twenty minutes after he had begun the collection and analysis, without much expectation, Balamy stumbled upon some bizarre information. Balamy held his breath as he spotted the name of Duke Idris Tytania displayed on the screen.

“What is this? This is utterly preposterous.”

That was his first thought. Balamy held no affection for Lord Idris or his brother. If Idris were to meet his ruin in any manner, he would likely feel quite pleased. However, could one truly believe such a “rumour” that “Lord Idris is conspiring with the Blaze Flag Army to orchestrate the downfall of Lord Ariabert and intends to assassinate Clanner Ajman to seize control over all of Tytania in a single stroke”?

As Balamy moved his elbow, he knocked the teacup sitting at the edge of the console onto the floor, leaving him to pick up the shards. A sharp fragment pricked the tip of his left ring finger, creating a tiny red spot. With a childish gesture, Balamy placed his fingertip into his mouth.

“Yet, information is information.”

Currents of thought raced through Balamy’s neural circuits. It was not that he was intentionally trying to frame Idris; the information simply existed as a fact. That Idris was conspiring with the anti-Tytania faction, seeking to topple Clanner Ajman and seat himself in the supreme position—that was information. Should he not report this candidly?

However, it was also a well-known fact that a rift existed between Balamy and the Idris siblings in years past. Even if the information were true, others would likely perceive it as Balamy providing false reports in an attempt to entrap Idris out of personal malice. Idris would certainly claim as much, and Clanner Ajman would likely find such an argument convincing.

If that were the case, Balamy would be the one to face charges for falsely accusing the duke. Having already incurred his displeasure and been banished from Uraniborg, any further disciplinary action would likely involve the stripping of his title or being driven away to some even more remote and uncultivated star system. Should that happen, Balamy would find it impossible to ever rise again in life as long as the Tytania Faction existed. He might even find himself with no choice but to defect to the Anti-Tytania Faction.

Balamy might find his true mettle tested by the single question of how to handle this information. He could not afford to act carelessly. However, the greatest folly would be if, while he sat idly holding onto the news, someone else delivered it to Uraniborg, causing the tides of power to shift. At that moment, the information Balamy harboured would turn to bitter regret, leaving him with nothing to do but curse his own indecision and incompetency. He would reproach himself for having possessed the power to alter the speed and direction of history with his own hands, only to let the opportunity slip away through a lack of courage.

Balamy realised something and was struck with dread. While he held an advantage in terms of acquiring information, he did not possess an exceptionally privileged position. The very fact that Balamy had managed to obtain this information meant that the information itself was known within a certain scope. The possibility that someone might send the information to Uraniborg ahead of Balamy was becoming extremely high. Should that happen, Balamy would inevitably be denounced for having failed to relay information that he ought to have disclosed.

There was only one solution. Balamy was powerless, and his only recourse was to pass the information to a powerful ally and entrust the decision to them. In other words, regardless of his emotions or ulterior motives, Balamy had no choice but to rely on Jouslain.

III

Duke Idris Tytania felt a harsh and intolerant sense of joy at the fact that Duke Ariabert Tytania had failed to achieve any grand military feat against the Bargash army. However, the moment when he, who had intended to merely spectate from the best seat in the house, was suddenly dragged onto the stage and forced into a solemn performance, occurred on the 17^th of January, SY 447, in the Supreme Council chamber of Uraniborg. On this day, a bizarre report had been delivered by Lord Balamy from planet Tyron.

“That brat Balamy is spreading groundless rumours. To think he was born into the Tytania Clan only to degenerate into a third-rate agitator.”

Idris hurled insults at the inexperienced reporter from afar, but Jouslain, sitting on the judging panel, pointed out a calm—or rather, from Idris’ perspective, a callous—remark. Reports regarding similar rumours had been brought forward not only by Lord Balamy but by other intelligence officers as well. Lord Balamy had merely gathered and reported rumours that could not be overlooked as a member of the Tytania, and that it was their responsibility to analyse and judge that information.

“Even so, it is a rather amusing rumour. Am I to be overthrown by Lord Idris? Not by an external enemy?”

Clanner Ajman let out a heavy laugh, and once he had composed himself, he added, “Though, of course, as a joke, it receives a failing grade.”

Idris’ fine features remained frozen in tension, and he did not even have the composure to laugh back. Showing no signs of interest in his reaction, Jouslain continued:

“According to Lord Balamy’s supplementary opinion, this is likely a scheme by the Blaze Flag Army to instigate internal conflict within the Tytania leadership.”

“A sensible view.”

This time, Ajman gave a thin smile.

“And does Lord Balamy himself believe that sensible view with all his heart? Common sense is often used as a shield to hide one’s true intentions.”

Jouslain should have been the one to answer, but Idris beat him to it.

“I hold a different view, Your Clanner Highness.”

Idris’ voice barely maintained an equilibrium on the verge of eruption. Although he had insulted Balamy, he did not consider him to be his primary enemy. By speaking up, Idris had saved Jouslain, who was being put to the test by the Clanner. Idris’ anxiety and irritation had changed the circumstances.

“It is against my wishes to utter such criticisms regarding a colleague, but…”

With that preamble, Jouslain realised what Idris was intending to say. He knew but could not bring himself to stop him and thus was forced to listen as Idris directed his pointed remarks at an absent party.

“Lord Ariabert has lost track of the Blaze Flag Army, his adversary on the planet Bargash, and has thus failed to achieve his original military and political objectives. This is a disgrace, both to the prestige of Tytania and to the personal reputation of Lord Ariabert himself. Might it not be that he resorted to petty tricks in an attempt to cover that dishonour and divert public attention away from his failure?”

Once he had finished speaking, Idris cast a gaze at Jouslain that could only be described as provocative. Jouslain masked his expression and looked up at the Clanner. Clad in grey, the Clanner sat with a poised, frigid stillness, much like a bronze statue.

Once again, Idris spoke:

“In other words, he intends to deflect the criticism aimed at himself by making me, Idris, the victim of malicious false reports. Otherwise, why would such rumours be spread at a time like this? I have nothing to hide. I ask for a thorough and, above all, impartial investigation.”

It seemed that his emotions had somewhat overwhelmed his reason. As Idris took his seat, the Clanner slowly turned his gaze toward the other duke.

“Let us hear the opinion of Lord Jouslain.”

Jouslain sensed a subtle vibration in that voice. The Clanner was finding the situation amusing. That’s what his instincts told him. From the perspective of divide and rule, it was undoubtedly desirable for dukes of equal rank to glare at one another.

“Regrettably, I cannot agree with the opinion of Lord Idris.”

Jouslain had chosen his words with as much care as possible, yet he could not entirely hide the bitterness in his tone. He felt the intensity of Idris’ glare upon his cheek.

“I find it impossible to believe that Lord Ariabert would devise such a cowardly scheme to entrap Lord Idris.”

He did not say aloud that the reverse might be true, but his tone alone might have conveyed the meaning. The Clanner’s expression darkened further, while Idris concentrated his dissatisfaction and fury into his eyes, making his gaze even more piercing.

“That possibility is just as low as the likelihood of Lord Idris harbouring disloyal thoughts toward Your Clanner Highness. For my part, I can believe neither.”

It seemed he was merely being a mere provocateur, Jouslain realised with a touch of irony. His manner of cleverly stifling an opponent’s rebuttal while maintaining a veneer of politeness suggested a rather malicious nature. Furthermore, Jouslain felt no sense of guilt regarding Idris.

Idris let out a low growl.

“My point is that I cannot endure being slandered without evidence. That is what I am saying!”

“The same applies to Lord Ariabert: there is no evidence there, either. To designate a colleague as the source of a conspiracy requires clear proof. Otherwise, one would merely be falling prey to the machinations of an unseen enemy and playing into their hands. I must ask you to exercise restraint, Lord Idris.”

“What a long-winded patronising speech!”

Finally, Idris flared up, his restraint snapping completely. He rose from his chair and cast a terrifying glare at Jouslain.

“Lord Jouslain, by what right, I ask, do you presume to lecture me, Idris? If anyone is the victim of these malicious rumours, it is I, and no one else.”

“I am obviously well aware of that. However, that does not mean you are permitted to obstruct the actions of Lord Ariabert, who is currently on the battlefield. Should he be forced to withdraw his army, the Bargash government would surely applaud the news.”

“In that case, as unworthy as I am, allow me to replace Lord Ariabert as the commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force and strike down both the Bargash government and the Blaze Flag Army. Your Clanner Highness, I await your judgement!”

He went too far, though Jouslain once again. It was impossible for the Clanner to revoke a personnel appointment once it had been decided and put into effect. Idris had performed his part, knowing this full well. Of course, while Idris likely took great pride in his own military talent, even the Clanner would have found his acting far too transparent, leaving him feeling thoroughly disillusioned.

Ajman did not appear particularly impressed, merely nodding his head in a formal gesture. He stated that he understood the sincerity of Duke Idris’ passion and instructed him to leave. For the time being, the matter was concluded.

But Jouslain understood that nothing had been resolved. Idris might well be an undesirable, destabilising factor for Tytania. If seeds of internal strife and mutual suspicion were to be sown within the heart of Tytania, it would not be unusual for rumours to spread, like, for instance, that Ariabert might move the armies under his command to launch a coup. Idris should have considered why it was he himself who had been chosen as the subject of such rumours.

The tangible and intangible enemies of Tytania were watching Idris, seeing him as a crack into which they might drive a wedge against the impregnable fortress’ walls. Idris was being targeted. If he knew this, he ought to be careful with his words and actions, striving to avoid provoking resentment or suspicion from within Tytania. If Jouslain had been Idris’ aide-de-camp, this is the counsel he would have offered. But of course, as reality was otherwise, Jouslain ought to have no obligation to advise him.

Clanner Ajman rose to his feet and addressed Jouslain. He stated that they would convene a meeting on a different agenda within the week.

“Even though the New Year has passed, Duke Zarlisch’s seat remains vacant. While I do not advocate for rushing things, I would like to see this vacancy filled by the middle of this year, if possible.”

“And how fares Duke Zarlisch’s mother?”

As Jouslain lowered his voice slightly, Ajman shook his head in silence. For a moment, it seemed as though even the resolute and pitiless Clanner flashed a look of exasperation. Zarlisch’s mother, Duchess Theresa Tytania, had been staying at Uraniborg for some time now, causing great bewilderment among the people.

Those of Tytania nobility who held the title of duke were required to participate in the administration of the central core of this vast, formless empire. If the sole purpose had been the preservation of lineage, an infant might have been permitted to become the head of a ducal house, but such a thing was not permitted in Tytania. One had to have reached adulthood and possess both exceptional talent and the physical health to support it. Even in the case of Idris, who was often considered problematic, his talents and achievements in both politics and the military were sufficiently extraordinary, especially considering he was only twenty-five years of age. It was precisely because of this that he had been permitted to inherit his ducal house at such a young age.

Jouslain had not held Zarlisch in particularly high regard during his lifetime, but once his seat became vacant, there were few who were capable of immediately filling the void. Anticipating the hardships that lay ahead, Jouslain saluted the Clanner and departed.

V

Once that unpleasant drama had finally reached its conclusion, Duke Idris Tytania grew even more ill-tempered. He found no one to his liking: not the insolent and immature Balamy, nor Jouslain who had rushed to his defence; nor Ariabert who was far away; nor the nearby Clanner Ajman; nor even the deceased Zarlisch. Most displeasing of all, however, was the anxiety lurking in the very depths of his own heart. The primary component of that anxiety was likely a sense of isolation. Having berated Ariabert and Balamy, Idris realised with a sudden pang that he had no allies left to his own side.

If Idris could fill the vacancy left by Zarlisch’s death with one of his own partisans, his position would be dramatically strengthened. Naturally, he wished to exert his influence to make that happen, yet he could not simply appoint anyone, provided they were a partisan.

Immediately after the meeting, Idris’ younger brother, Baron Radmoth, requested an audience. He wished to hear how the meeting had gone, but Idris dismissed him without hesitation.

“You have no need to know. It is not as if you would have a seat at such a meeting anyway.”

“Are you saying, then, that you have no expectations of me, brother?”

“Why do you sound so dissatisfied? Who was it that betrayed these expectations and disappointed me? Who was it that wasted the opportunity for advancement that I had so graciously provided, all through sheer short-sightedness!”

Idris lashed out with his words like a whip, yet Radmoth remained undaunted. Standing there with a physique even more robust than his brother’s, he gazed at Idris with a dull, heavy light in his eyes.

Seeing that sight, Idris’ displeasure deepened further. Because his thoughtless brother, who was all brawn and no brains, had engaged in a trivial quarrel with Viscount Balamy just last year, the military appointments Idris had decided upon were rescinded, the threads he had been weaving were severed, and, to top it all, his conflict with Jouslain had intensified. While a confrontation with Jouslain was unavoidable regardless, having his options reduced so early made everything far more difficult to manage. Having driven his brother away, Idris had no one with whom to discuss his plans in earnest and was left to brood over his frustration alone.

Francia, the lady-in-waiting, arrived carrying coffee after having tidied her attire. Holding a fine white porcelain cup, which was thinner than paper and more precious than silver, Jouslain gazed at the profile of his quiet lover. The white, oval face was beautiful, yet lacked a striking presence, hinting at a trace of Tytania blood shared with Ariabert. Jouslain took pleasure in precisely that quality of Francia, though he felt a slight sense of dissatisfaction as well.

He was aware that this was perhaps less a contradiction and more a matter of masculine selfishness. Any woman who might noisily intrude upon his thoughts or his life would without doubt quickly become a nuisance to him. It was precisely because Francia was so modest and reserved that their relationship was able to endure.

Through the windows of the salon, the light of unblinking stars flowed in, tinted with blue. Francia stood amidst that light, addressing her master with a hint of hesitation.

“Are you aware of the rumours, Lord Jouslain?”

“There are rumours I know, and rumours I do not. If there is something you wish to tell me, Francia, then I shall listen.”

As Jouslain urged her further with his gaze, Francia cast aside her hesitation and began to speak. She said it concerned the Countess Theodora Tytania.

The woman’s name caused Jouslain to furrow his brows slightly. She was a young woman who, only last year, had seized the inheritance rights of a county with an almost aggressive assertiveness. Her level of ambition was likely a million times greater than Francia’s. While the talent supporting that ambition had yet to result in any failure, there was no telling what the future might hold. It seemed that as her status and power grew, more people would inevitably be dragged down in her sinking.

It was said that the words and actions of Countess Theodora Tytania had caught the attention of the women residing in Uraniborg. Rumours fluttered and drifted into Francia’s ears as well. While she was not a woman who took much interest in gossip, she found it impossible to ignore once she heard the name of Lord Idris. It was whispered that Theodora was having an affair with Lord Idris, and that within her boudoir they were weaving various political intrigues. Furthermore, it was even rumoured that she had recently established a relationship with Clanner Ajman and other influential figures.

“I see. It appears the Countess is a libertine. Whether one is a libertine or merely sentimental, such things are a matter of personal temperament and nothing to be condemned.”

The problem lay in the depraved union between lust and the thirst for power. Since ancient times, there had never been a good outcome when women, driven by a desire for power, attended the bedside of the ruler. Clanner Ajman had favoured many women since his late teens, adorning them with expensive jewels and precious metals, yet he had never granted them power and treated them as mere playthings. To him, these women were nothing more than ornaments; they were not his allies nor his comrades, and certainly never his masters. Until now, that is.

The future is something no man can truly predict. While it seemed impossible that Theodora, who had failed to capture Jouslain’s heart, could ever hope to melt the heart of Clanner Ajman, she had already secured her position as a countess. It would be no surprise if she sought even higher heights. One might think that the mere existence of such rumours suggested their insignificance, yet the opposite view was also possible. It might even be that someone was spreading such rumours to flaunt their own political influence. If one was known to be closely associated with the Clanner or the Dukes, those harbouring resentment would find their malice blunted.

If Tytania were to fall, it would not be at the hands of a powerful and capable foreign enemy but rather through self-destruction brought about by internal strife and conflict. This prediction had crossed Jouslain’s mind several times before and was flickering through his mind once more.

“I hear that Lord Idris has been somewhat hostile towards you, Lord Jouslain. I could not help but gather the rumours. You look quite exhausted; did I offend you by bringing up such a topic?”

Jouslain gave a short laugh to Francia’s worries.

“The mere fact that I am of Tytania is a source of exhaustion in itself. It has exhausted me perhaps since my childhood.”

Jouslain fell silent. He felt he should say no more. There was nothing to be gained by speaking of it. In his childhood, he watched his mother and Ariabert’s mother pierce one another with glares of hatred, even though they were sisters sharing the same blood. Jouslain had no way of expressing the feelings he had at that time. Rather, he found himself lost in thought over Francia’s kindness.

Even those far removed from political manoeuvring, like Francia, could not remain indifferent to the Idris’ name. It appeared to all onlookers that Idris and Jouslain were irreconcilable foes. While it was almost always the case that Idris took the initiative and Jouslain merely responded, Jouslain had continued to fight back, so it could by no means be said that he lacked the will to battle. It seemed likely that he would continue to oppose Idris in the future as well.

In truth, Duchess Theresa Tytania was a woman who should have been able to command her family’s sympathy to its very last drop. Last year, she had lost two of her sons: Duke Zarlisch Tytania and Count Arses Tytania. The death of Arses, whom she had doted upon, had driven her to a frenzy. And while Zarlisch had not been as precious to her as Arses, there was no way she could have found any pleasure in his passing.

Duchess Theresa cursed the villains who had snatched “Arses and the other one” away and insulted the incompetence of the Tytania Clan for failing to prevent such an atrocity. She stormed from her lands to Uraniborg, pressuring Clanner Ajman to carry out vengeance against her sons as swiftly as possible.

The Clanner met only once with the formerly beautiful Duchess as a pure formality, but he did nothing more than repeat his vow to avenge Zarlisch and his brother; to the Duchess, his attitude remained entirely insincere. Furthermore, the Clanner subsequently sought excuses to avoid further meetings, eventually reaching a point where he merely sent a message warning her: “Do not act rashly and bring shame upon the honour of the Tytania and her sons.”

“The honour of the Tytania!”

In the salon of her assigned guest house, Duchess Theresa Tytania spat a torrent of venom into the air that far outweighed the volume of her voice. Her ladies-in-waiting recoiled to avoid being sprayed by their mistress’ spit. The Duchess had arrived accompanied by sixty ladies-in-waiting.

“Is there even any honour left in Tytania? If I were to reveal what I know to the world, those envious, low-born wretches would surely rejoice. They find their only pleasure in mocking noble houses. Ajman, Ariabert, Jouslain, and Idris! Every one of them is nothing more than the progeny of rotten, poisonous vermin. With nothing but murky blood flowing through their veins, what honour could they possibly have?!”

Duchess Theresa did not mention her own blood, nor that of her sons. With eyes so red that the capillaries had burst, the Duchess glared around her surroundings.

Her roving gaze fixed upon a single point. A woman stood motionless at the entrance to the salon. Even in her agitated state, the Duchess could tell from the woman’s attire and bearing that she was no lady-in-waiting. However, Duchess Theresa felt not the need to show deference, not even to the Clanner’s wife. She raised her voice to call her out:

“Who are you? No—regardless of whomever you may be, I have no memory of summoning you. By whose permission do you presume to enter my chambers?!”

“It is an honour to meet you, Duchess Theresa Tytania.”

The visitor ignored the mistress’ interrogation with profound politeness. As Duchess Theresa looked the guest over, feeling somewhat taken aback, the woman introduced herself with continued courtesy.

“I am known as the Countess Theodora Tytania. Merely a few days ago, I was granted the title of Countess by His Clanner Highness and was formally invested by imperial decree from His Imperial Majesty of Vardana. Notification was sent to your Grace, but mayhap it failed to reach your attention?”

“Dear me, did such a thing happen? I have little interest in such trivialities, so I was unaware of it.”

Dismissing the matter of the county’s inheritance as a mere triviality was perhaps the Duchess’ way of saving face. Even if she felt slighted, Theodora did not allow it to show on her face. Instead, she offered an even more respectful bow, thereby satisfying the Duchess’ vanity.

“And so, for what purpose have you come?”

The Duchess’ tone softened ever so slightly. Theodora requested that other people present be dismissed. She was a hunter pursuing the prey of power, and she did not hesitate to utilise not only men but also women to achieve her goals.

Thus, on the 18^th of January, Clanner Ajman raised an eyebrow at the proposal from Duchess Theresa Tytania. It was a staggering request: that the vacancy left by her late son, Zarlisch, be filled by Theresa herself.

Chapter 3 – The Phoney War

I

It was known as the “Phoney War”. People began calling by that name the conflict between the Republic of Bargash and the Vardana Empire (that is, Tytania), which had commenced in December, SY 446, in February of the following year.

It was not due to the fact that not a single drop of blood had been shed, since tens of thousands had perished due to the fierce ground assaults on military outposts conducted by the Tytanian army prior to the occupation. Nevertheless, the fact that a decisive frontal engagement between the great fleets had been avoided gave onlookers the distinct impression that the situation was being handled in a half-hearted and haphazard manner.

Those who sought to curry favour with mighty Tytania argued that “Bargash must be thoroughly punished in order to protect the order of the entire universe, the honour of Tytania, and true peace.” However, since Bargash had refrained from armed resistance, Lord Ariabert, the commander-in-chief, had no intention of launching an attack against an opponent offering no opposition and instead focused his efforts on pursuing the whereabouts of the Blaze Flag Army.

While the term “Blaze Flag Army” was used as a collective with the Tytania faction, it was in reality a rather disordered composite force consisting of Fan Hyulick’s faction and the Bargash government forces under the command of Rear-Admiral Turbil. The missing forces were estimated at 84,400 men, 2,490 vessels, and over 12,600 pieces of anti-aircraft weaponry, anti-ship weaponry, and ground combat armoured vehicles, yet these figures remained nothing more than mere estimates.

“After all, your army’s ground assault caused immense damage, yes. We have received reports that our units were completely annihilated. As for our ships, we heard they were utterly destroyed. Our evidence? Well, there isn’t so much as a speck of dust left of them.”

To put it somewhat hyperbolically, that was Bargash’s response. Gritting their teeth, the Tytania forces had no choice but to conduct the search and investigation on their own.

Within the Tytania forces, the activities of Commander Granite, who had served as senior aide-de-camp to Duke Zarlisch Tytania, were nothing short of remarkable. He was a man who had repeatedly offered counsel to the late Zarlisch, only to be ignored, and had ultimately been forced to witness the untimely death of his superior; as such, he should have been held accountable for his failure to fulfil his duties as his adjutant. However, Ariabert felt rather sympathetic toward his situation and merely issued a formal reprimand and a six-month pay cut, while explicitly stating his intent to “allow him to atone for his faults through merit.”

Moved by this, Commander Granite acted immediately under Ariabert’s orders. Leading a platoon of high-speed patrol ships, he attacked a transport ship of the Blaze Flag Army, capturing the vessel and taking the captain and crew as prisoners of war. Through these captives, Ariabert was able to conduct negotiations with the Blaze Flag Army. According to third-party commentary:

“In other words, Lord Ariabert intimidated the original Blaze Flag Army. He demanded them to hunt down Fan Hyulick’s faction with your own hands, and if they failed to do so, he would hold them accountable for their crimes.”

That was precisely what had happened. However, the intimidated Blaze Flag Army did not submit easily. Their pride wounded, they resorted to threatening language against Ariabert. They questioned what he would do if their entire army chose to side with Fan Hyulick’s faction. They suggested that perhaps he ought not to adopt such an overbearing attitude.

“Very well, then. If you intend to join Fan Hyulick’s faction and fight against Tytania, then I shall simply annihilate all of you at once. No need to hold back; go and join him at once.”

Had anyone other than Ariabert said it, they would have thought of it as nothing more than a “hollow boast”. However, the executives of the Blaze Flag Army, who were by nature quite unruly, found themselves intimidated by his quiet confidence and the actual strength that supported it.

Ariabert had seen the truth with perfect insight. The Blaze Flag Army no longer possessed the rebellious spirit of its former days; they had dwindled into an existence that would merely kneel before overwhelming power. At the same time, Ariabert offered them a morsel of Tytania-style sweetness. He promised that, provided they did not become an obstacle to Tytania, he would grant the Blaze Flag Army honourable treatment, perhaps even a status equal to that of the regular army, or the rights to legal shipping routes.

The Blaze Flag Army surrendered.

In this manner, with the success of only a single, small-scale operation, Ariabert Tytania had achieved the neutralisation of the Blaze Flag Army’s mainstream faction.

Beside him, his diplomatic advisor, Count Elman Tytania, acknowledged that Ariabert was more than just a simple man of arms. During this expedition, Ariabert had achieved success in every theatre except for a decisive fleet battle. Should he be given the opportunity, in such a confrontation he would likely secure an overwhelming victory as well. If that were to happen, he would literally achieve the military feat of completely conquering a nation.

“It is a feat of too great a magnitude. For Lord Ariabert, it might instead become a calamity. If so, perhaps it would be better to remain without a final fleet battle…”

Count Elman pondered upon this. The other Tytania nobles could not remain indifferent to the question of which of the three dukes—Ariabert, Jouslain, or Idris—would ascend to the throne as the next Clanner.

Personally, Count Elman had hoped for a shared governance between Ariabert and Jouslain, but such expectations almost always end unfulfilled. He could have lived a life free of major incident had he merely been content to remain idle in the status quo, yet he had taken a step forward to secure a seat within the diplomatic and political manoeuvring divisions of the Tytania power structure. If he could envision a future configuration and succeed in making it a reality, his status and authority would be strengthened.

Should Idris seize control of the next administration and begin to wield dictatorial powers, Count Elman would have no choice but to return once more to the life of a middle-ranking noble, neither a boon nor a burden to anyone. That was not what Count Elman desired.

Count Elman had no intention of becoming the Clanner himself. He knew well enough that he lacked the necessary stature. However, he believed he could exert his influence to ensure a new Clanner was established, and he would find it gratifying to have his merits justly recognised.

There was another reason why the Blaze Flag Army had come to cooperate with Ariabert. It was because Lee Shanchen, known as Doctor Lee, who had once been their ally, had declared open hostility towards both Tytania and the main body of the Blaze Flag Army. They had endeavoured to punish the traitor under the pretext of doing so, but had seen no results.

“If the Blaze Flag Army has exerted such effort and still failed to locate him, should we not say that it isn’t Fan Hyulick’s clique’s escape that is skilful, but rather the Blaze Flag Army’s tracking and search capabilities that are lacking?”

When Rear-Admiral Paulsen made that remark, Ariabert gazed at his staff officer with a look that could not hide its sarcasm.

“A fitting description, Rear-Admiral Paulsen. Then, how do you think Tytania’s capabilities in that same field should be described?”

Rear-Admiral Paulsen flushed red, and Ariabert fell into a somewhat brooding silence. Even without third parties branding it a “Phoney War”, he himself found the futility of this conflict unbearable.

“Records remain that the fleet under the command of Rear-Admiral Turbil took off. There are even witnesses. But we simply do not know where they went.”

The records of the Navigation Bureau were blank. Under normal circumstances, false data would have been inserted, but it appeared they lacked sufficient time for such sabotage. In other words, the fugitives’ plan must have taken a long time to execute. Perhaps they had failed to obtain the approval of the Bargash government. Or perhaps, rather than ascending to the heavens, they had burrowed into the earth.

Consequently, acting upon the recommendation of Commander Granite, Ariabert launched an attack on the Tarhari Desert, which Zarlisch had chosen as his final destination. Had Fan Hyulick’s faction been hiding within the underground cave systems, they would undoubtedly have been buried under hundreds of millions of tons of rock and debris.

A total of five hundred thousand missiles were concentrated in a fifty-kilometre radius; the earth shuddered, heatwaves swirled, and debris turned to dust, rising as clouds to reach ten thousand metres above the ground. The desert was transformed into a highly active volcano. Ariabert had hoped for the effect of intimidation rather than the efficacy of the strike itself. Trillions of dust particles scattered the starlight, and for the following two months, the planet Bargash was forced to behold a setting sun that resembled a clot of blood.

It was the following day that Count Elman brought his report to Ariabert.

“It appears that Fan Hyulick’s faction has been discovered, Duke.”

Ariabert gazed silently at Count Elman’s earnest expression. Between him and Count Elman lay a fifteen-year age gap and a fundamental difference in their ways of thinking. Ariabert was not so narrow-minded as to reject the significance of others on those grounds, and he was well aware of his own youth. Yet, for some reason, he could not deny the faint sense of unease that stirred within him when facing this middle-aged nobleman.

II

Count Elman made maximum use of his own connections, Ariabert’s displays of power, and the financial strength of Tytania. Whether directed outwards or inwards, political manoeuvring relied upon the abundance and accuracy of information. Elman approached one of the executives of the Blaze Flag Army who had been struck with terror by Ariabert’s reprimands, and further brought key figures of the Bargash government into his fold, ensnaring them like strands of a spider’s web to wring out information.

“Your Grace, they are lurking on the seabed. Of course, the Bargash government is aware of it.”

With that report, Ariabert understood.

“No wonder we found nothing in outer space, no matter how much we searched. To think they were hiding in the ocean depths. So they were not rats but bottom-feeders?”

Had he possessed just a little more time, Ariabert would have located the enemy’s position without the assistance of Count Elman. Refraining from saying so aloud, Ariabert expressed his profound gratitude for the Count Elman’s efforts and immediately entered the count’s achievement into the official records. Elman was satisfied, his confidence in his own choice deepening.

Ariabert immediately summoned the Bargash government authorities. Corvin, the Minister of Foreign Affairs—a man who appeared as if fashioned from cotton—faced Ariabert with a darkened expression, but his facial muscles twitched upon hearing Ariabert’s demand. He managed, barely, to maintain a mask of concealment.

“Are you asking me to release the Navigation Bureau’s data? I believe all of that has already been provided to your army.”

“Not the Navigation Bureau; I am speaking of the Hydrographic Bureau’s data. I want it processed so that we may use it freely within fifteen minutes.”

Ariabert had not merely offered a polite greeting. His true purpose was to gauge the reaction to this demand. If the Bargash government showed any sign of agitation or refusal, it would, paradoxically, serve to reinforce the accuracy of the information brought by Count Elman.

“Fifteen minutes is impossible. We must take this to the cabinet, relay it to the Hydrographic Bureau, and obtain authorisation from the person in charge. Since our nation is a democracy, we must follow the proper procedures…”

“That leaves you with fourteen minutes and thirty seconds.”

Ariabert shattered Corvin’s defences with a merciless blow. “We are requesting the data necessary to determine the whereabouts of Fan Hyulick and his clique. We shall treat any refusal as an act of hostility and take appropriate measures; are you prepared for that?”

Corvin’s face turned pale, pierced by the sharpness of Ariabert’s gaze. It was the expression of a man who realised his doom was impending. For Ariabert, this confirmed the accuracy of the information provided by Count Elman.

“Do not forget, Minister. We are here to execute these rogue deserters on behalf of your Bargash government. You have every reason to be grateful to us and have no reason to find fault with us.”

Ariabert was a gentleman, but more than that, he was a man who represented the “military” might of Tytania. The high-ranking officials of the Bargash government had likely been reminded of that truth once again.

All was at a standstill. As the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Corvin, stood dazed before the communication screen in his office, his secretary posed a question that carried a hint of reproach:

“Are you truly going to hand over the data, Minister?”

“What choice do I have? What more can we possibly do? Even if I refuse, Tytania will find a way to obtain the Hydrographic Bureau’s data. Mustering a futile resistance would be utterly meaningless.”

“That may be true. But after this, no one will fight for Bargash anymore. We will lose both our credibility and our authority to vet locators, and we shall dwindle from a frontier capital into a lonely, destitute planet.”

“It is not yet a settled matter.”

Corvin shook his head, beads of sweat forming across his broad forehead.

“All is not yet decided. And even if it were, we must survive nevertheless. We have no need for elegies or dirges. I would rather live as a beggar than die a poet.”

Corvin repeated those words, this time, back towards himself.

“To survive and bear witness to the deaths of others.”

Ariabert was in no position to acknowledge Corvin’s philosophy. He was far too occupied with matters far removed from philosophy, such as having his staff officers analyse data from the Hydrographic Bureau, repositioning troops, and sending reports to Uraniborg.

Jouslain remained at Uraniborg. Because he assisted the Clanner with the practicalities of domestic administration and diplomacy, and acted as Ariabert’s voice, Ariabert was able to remain almost entirely free from the anxieties regarding his rear that generals on foreign campaigns so often harboured. While Ariabert did not believe he had been born solely to fight, it was certainly true that he found far more fulfilment in competing with military prowess against vast armies on the great battlefields of the cosmos than he did in engaging in political manoeuvring back at Uraniborg.

Unlike Zarlisch, he never took pleasure in grandiloquence. On the contrary, his voice was likely quiet in proportion to his achievements. He had always carried out his expeditionary duties with a dispassionate composure, and he had never sought to leverage them for political advantage. Yet, he too was of the Tytania clan. Should a situation arise where his military exploits became an object of resentment for the Clanner, or the next Clanner, leading to an unjust purge, he would openly and honourably raise his banner and establish his independence with the forces under his command.

The patience and obedience of those of Tytania were not those of a slave. Those with capability and will deserved to be evaluated fairly. And now, having rediscovered the target he was meant to strike, Ariabert was working vigorously, gathering his staff officers together.

It was a well-known fact that the environments of outer space and the deep sea shared many similarities, yet navigation and combat underwater still required specific equipment. Not every vessel was equipped with it. For example, the WG system generated a thin film of water currents to shroud the fleet, enabling high speeds under intense water pressure; the presence or absence of this equipment resulted in a speed difference of over forty kilometres per hour. Since those currents also served to shield against low and high frequencies, they were utilised in various weaponry, meaning that differences in equipment could decide life and death, victory and defeat.

Captain Lagusa, a staff officer well-versed in underwater warfare, explained while projecting topographical maps onto the wall.

“In this area, basins with depths of 5,000 to 6,000 metres extend across eight million square kilometres. To the north and west lie mid-ocean ridges, and to the south and east, oceanic trenches…”

The unit of measurement, metres, gave Ariabert and his staff officers a slight sense of incongruity. In their usual perception, distance was expressed in “light-seconds, light-hours, light-days, and light-years.” Whether one was a soldier or an elementary school student, a trivial difference in perception could sometimes lead to consequences that were far too grave.

“Every vessel equipped for underwater operations shall be engaged in this operational manoeuvre. The ocean of a single planet may be far too small for you gentlemen, but it might do you good to try walking instead of running for a change.”

A laugh almost broke out at Ariabert’s words, but the room fell silent at his very next remark, as if a wind had suddenly died down.

“However, should you stumble during this stroll, you shall face even greater ridicule. Do not underestimate this. You can laugh at it any time in the future.”

After tightening the discipline of his staff officers, Ariabert gave meticulous instructions for the deployment of the military forces.

The entire fleet did not plunge directly into the sea; instead, positioned one hundred metres above the ocean surface, two hundred and sixty cruisers, three hundred and thirty-eight destroyers, eight hundred and ninety fast patrol boats, and forty-one space carriers held station hovering, prepared for the enemy fleet’s ascent. Furthermore, a force five times that size was deployed in orbit, intending to bury the insolent anti-Tytania insurgents on the seabed of planet Bargash, ensuring they had no escape into space.

Ariabert seemed to possess the nature of a lion. Even when facing a minor foe, he ensured he was in a perfect position to strike. The reason Zarlisch had not held him in high regard during his lifetime was that his great stature relied too heavily on personal valour, which caused his military command to lack steadiness. That flaw had been compensated for by the very life of Zarlisch. As for what might reward Ariabert’s steadfastness, it remained a matter beyond the reach of human understanding. His headquarters continued to issue orders one after another.

“Very well. Eighth Fleet, proceed with the ocean currents to point N006, W072. Ninth Fleet, to point N006, W073…”

Ariabert himself boarded the flagship, leading a fleet of six thousand vessels, and successfully executed the descent into the ocean directly beneath the equator of planet Bargash.

Thus, the first act of the “Phoney War” drew to a long conclusion, and the second act was set to begin beneath the waves.

III

From the 1^st to the 3^rd of February, SY 447, the Tytania forces continued their reconnaissance operations both above and below the sea. A joke was whispered that if an army of such magnitude were to submerge, the entirety of Bargash’s oceans would expand in volume and transform into Archimedes’ bathtub. It was on the third day at 18:50 that a definitive report arrived.

“An enemy signature has been detected on radar.”

“What is the distance?”

“Just under 1,500 kilometres.”

“In outer space, that would be a mere instant.”

Under the sea, however, things did not work that way. Utilising WG, the cruising speed was 150 kilometres per hour, with a maximum of 190 kilometres per hour, and fleet manoeuvres required ten hours to complete.

“I was thinking about it too much in a roundabout way.”

Ariabert flashed a bitter smile for the umpteenth time that day. While navigating underwater required ten hours, once they emerged into the air and reached the airspace above the target, it would take less than one. He himself was well-versed in combat within the vacuum of space, yet when it came to matters within a planet’s atmosphere, he could not help but feel a subtle sense of unease.

Ariabert immediately ordered the ascent to the sea surface and the transition to aerial flight. However, he limited this to only half the fleet, leaving the remaining half to continue navigating underwater. The unit led by Ariabert himself would resurface to the east of the enemy, then dive to attack from the east while pursuing them towards the west. Should the enemy flee westward, their retreat would be blocked by the underwater unit, resulting in a pincer movement from both the east and the west. If they attempted to surface, they would be struck from above by the separate detachment waiting at low altitude. Furthermore, should they flee into the deep sea, they would only succeed in cutting off their own means of escape.

Ariabert muttered to himself:

“I shall make Mr Fan Hyulick a prisoner of Tytania for the fourth time. This time, I shall have to invite him to Uraniborg…”

It was not that he had sensed the murmur of Duke Ariabert Tytania, but Fan Hyulick, who was overhyped as a wandering hero, felt a sudden chill and pressed a hand to the nape of his neck. He had experienced this many times since he had unwittingly been branded an enemy of the Tytania Clan. He never grew accustomed to it, nor did it ever turn into pleasure.

The cruiser he was aboard, the Honest Old Man Junior, sat upon the seabed at a depth of 4,850 metres. It had been there for nearly a month. The sight of this vessel, with a displacement of some forty thousand tonnes, lying on the ocean floor alongside other ships, might have evoked the image of a remote fish market rather than a display of heroic grandeur.

After the Vardana Empire—that is, Tytania—had formally declared war, Doctor Lee said the following to Fan Hyulick:

“If we suffer a single defeat, it will be the end of us. In other words, we must not fight until a state of certain victory has been established, both tactically, politically, and economically.”

“And when will that be established?”

“The devil knows,” answered the disciple of the devil with solemnity, while the unfortunate fugitive cursed the Doctor’s master under his breath.

Having descended to the seabed without having thought of any other ingenious or effective plan, he wondered if this choice had truly been the right one.

“The Blaze Flag Army was intimidated because Lord Ariabert took such a militant stance. Is there any guarantee that the Bargash government will not be intimidated?”

“I cannot provide such an unscientific guarantee.”

“You say that with such confidence. In any case…”

Fan Hyulick intended to retort with biting sarcasm, but as nothing came to mind, he merely faltered. He finally regained his composure and gathered his thoughts. If the Bargash government were to succumb to Lord Ariabert, what would become of their position?

“Should that happen, the Bargash government would abandon us. It is only natural; they have no obligation to share in our destiny.”

“… Perhaps I made a mistake.”

“At what?”

“At everything.”

Fan Hyulick had become extremely sceptical of life and fate. He wondered if he was destined to continue playing an ill-fitting role in an ill-fitting costume until the day he died.

Even so, he felt that it was a strange thing. When the space surrounding the hull was a vacuum, one gained a sensation of flight and floating, yet when the surroundings were high-pressure seawater, a sense of confinement and compression rushed in. Although the ship was supposed to be protected by multiple layers of its own structural strength and tension-vibration fields, it felt more like a tangible and intangible coffin.

The reason was not particularly complex. Once the shell protecting a fragile human being was breached, in space, one was sucked out into the void, whereas in the deep sea, the intruding water would crush the person. It could be said that this difference strangely influenced the psychology of the crew. Whether that was true or not, Fan Hyulick somewhat believed that such was the case.

The Honest Old Man Junior had originally possessed a different name, but the new crew members ignored it. Instead, they almost exclusively used the phonetic English abbreviation “OOJ”. Not every new crew member was a soldier of the Bargash Regular Army. Including Fan Hyulick, Doctor Lee, Compton and Miranda Casimir, Alan Mahdi, Mikhail Walenkov, Louis Edmond Pagès, Salam Amzekar, Doctor Ibn Kasim, Seraphine Coopers, and others, their total number came to two hundred and twenty-nine.

Even if they were called Tytania’s greatest enemy, this was the reality of their strength. They lacked at least three zeroes to fight a grand, head-on war. One could only feel a sense of awe at Tytania’s methods, dispatching even Lord Ariabert to a matter that could have been settled by simply sending a single battalion of the Military Police.

“Who could ever hope to win a head-on battle against Ariabert Tytania? Even I only won by a stroke of luck,” declared Fan Hyulick.

It was not a mere expression of modesty but a sincere sentiment. He did not even want to contemplate how that stroke of luck had altered the fates of millions, himself included. He had simply found himself in this state, struggling to fulfil his responsibilities while trapped in circumstances thrust upon him, and felt a sudden urge to demand a responsible answer from someone as to why the situation had come to this.

With every victory, he found himself driven into a greater corner. He had been cornered by Zarlisch, and just when he thought he had finally defeated him through the desperate counterattack of a trapped rat, he now found himself thrust into a conflict with Ariabert. It was as if a fatal navigational error had been programmed into his life’s course from the very beginning.

While reserving his objections to fate, he had managed to resolve to fight and die—even if that was nothing more than self-deception. Yet, it would have been one thing if he were to scatter magnificently amidst the brilliance of the stars; instead, he was forced to hold his breath at the bottom of some wretched, impoverished ocean on a miserable planet, waiting for either an enemy attack or their retreat. The situation only added to his sense of suffocation. For someone like Fan Hyulick, who had not yet reached the age of thirty, it would have been far easier to simply explode all at once.

However, that disciple of the devil known as Doctor Lee would not permit it. It seemed he would not even allow him the mercy of death until he had completed the equation in which Fan Hyulick took Tytania down with him.

As Fan Hyulick brooded irritably upon the past, the present, and the future, a young woman wearing a sun visor, Seraphine Coopers, smiled at him. She knew that the mantle of a hero did not suit Fan Hyulick’s frame.

“You’re giving up, then? Your only redeeming quality was that you would never yield to Tytania.”

“As far as I’m concerned, if Tytania would forgive me, I wouldn’t mind handing over ten thousand written oaths.”

Of course, Fan Hyulick knew that this would never happen. His very existence was a necessity to the Tytania regime. He would be kept alive as long as he was needed, and once his utility had passed, he would be eliminated. If Doctor Lee was indeed preferable to Tytania, then it would simply mean that Fan Hyulick would be allowed to live even after he was no longer required. In exchange, however, they would undoubtedly force upon him the homework of contemplating what human society would look like after the collapse of the Tytania regime.

Fan Hyulick felt a significant surge of anger. Why on earth should he be the one to fret over something like a “New Cosmic Order after the fall of Tytania”? There was absolutely no reason why he should bear such responsibility. If the disappearance of Tytania was to bring disaster upon human society, then they should simply have ensured Tytania’s survival and continued to submit to its rule. Indeed, the majority of human society was already content to do so. Fan Hyulick himself had been quite happy to live a life of complacent ease. And yet…

“Fan Hyulick!”

The call pulled him back to reality. It was a woman’s voice, yet lower and more forceful than that of Seraphine Coopers. Miranda’s face approached him, taut with tension and excitement.

“It looks like things have taken a turn for the worse. Tytania is…”

An alarm overlaid her voice as Seraphine Coopers readjusted her sun visor. Her act of taking up the heat rifle belonged more to the realm of an expression of fighting spirit than to any practical effectiveness in the combat that was about to unfold.

Her comrades, who had begun to move with urgency, also took up their rifles and exchanged looks of hardened determination.

“They’ve found us…!”

A tremor raced through the neural network.

IV

Duke Ariabert Tytania stood upon the bridge of the flagship, the Golden Sheep, his tall frame enveloped in a grey military uniform. A pleasant tension rested upon his handsome features. His eyes cast sharp glares toward the main screen ahead, where images, numerical data, and diagrams were cycling rapidly.

“Duke, it appears we have found the princess we were seeking.”

Ignoring Rear-admiral Paulsen’s cheerful voice, Ariabert walked towards the captain’s seat. Captain Chen Ruofan did not bother with a salute. He was a man who had earned a fixed reputation among Tytania’s officers for both his competence and his brusqueness. He was thirty-nine years old, with twenty-five years of military service and dozens of medals to his name. It was he who provided the report in a somewhat clinical voice.

“There is certainly a thermal signature, but distinguishing friend from foe is impossible at the moment.”

“Very well, no need to rush. Proceed at a slow speed and continue the pursuit. Do not break formation.”

Ariabert rested a hand against his well-defined jaw and thought for a brief moment before reaching a decision. He ordered that the entire fleet be notified via standard communications that an enemy had been detected and was being pursued.

To put it bluntly, Tytania did not care even if their communications were intercepted. The content of the transmissions themselves could be used as a psychological weapon against the enemy. Furthermore, by analysing the enemy’s reaction, it should have become easier to formulate countermeasures at the tactical level in the future.

Communication waves darted through the high pressure of the deep sea. They travelled above the surface as well, and the detachment waiting at low altitude began to move, looking down upon the surging waves.

An enemy reaction appeared. It was so direct that even Ariabert was caught off guard. One of the reconnaissance officers raised his voice while pressing his headphones against his ears with both hands.

“Solid objects, rapid approach! Bearing one-zero-three-zero, number of targets: six!”

“Ascend, evade.”

Captain Chen issued his orders with an air of displeasure. In this instance, evasion was merely a means to buy the time necessary to prepare for interception; he had no intention of fleeing indefinitely. The fleet began a gradual ascent. It became clear that the rapidly approaching solid objects were self-propelled metallic bodies. The relative speed between the two parties shifted moment by moment in accordance with their manoeuvres. And their absolute positions changed as well. They appeared to be residual-energy-tracking missiles.

In a somewhat farcical turn of events, the fact that the Tytania forces were moving in a high-density formation caused the missiles’ guidance systems to falter. The systems hesitated, unable to decide which of the multiple released energy signatures to prioritise for tracking. While there is no luxury for hesitation in the vacuum of space, the three-magnitude difference in velocity within the ocean led to the ridiculous situation of machines experiencing indecision.

“Use ultra-low frequency missiles!”

Captain Chen’s instructions were pithy and laconic. There was a sense that this capable Tytania officer considered uttering superfluous dialogue to be a waste of energy.

His colleagues often remarked that “his dictionary contains nothing but subjects and objects.” The reason he had ordered an aggressive interception was the fear that, should the enemy missiles self-destruct after their moment of indecision, the resulting fragmentation pattern would cause damage to the fleet due to their dense formation.

By the standards of space combat, during the absurdly slow forty seconds that followed, the Tytania fleet increased the distance between its ships and launched an equal number of missiles against the six incoming enemy projectiles. Twenty seconds later, the two sides met, and explosions erupted.

Millions of tons of sediment erupted from the seabed. Struggling against the deep-sea pressure, it ascended towards the surface with a strange, sluggish momentum. As it rose, displacing the surrounding seawater, the trillions of tons of dark liquid swayed with a heavy, reluctant motion. Each ship drifted through the water, buffeted by this ponderous oscillation. The surrounding temperature rose, and the seawater pressed layers of mud and sand against the hulls of the vessels.

“It’s like an undersea volcanic eruption,” lamented a non-commissioned officer.

Another NCO raised his voice:

“Reminds me of my wife. When she’s angry, she stops speaking to me, but her breath alone can blow things away.”

Captain Chen ignored the conversation, which was clearly intended to bolster their own spirits. Some among the crew knew that his wife was also a Tytania officer, a commodore who had graduated from both the military academy and the graduate military college.

Ariabert clicked his tongue inwardly. It was a gloomy battle, at least up until this point. From the very start, this Bargash expedition had seemed to lack any elements of excitement. It felt less like the duty of a warrior and more like that of a hunter; less like combat and more like a peacekeeping operation. Nevertheless, Ariabert had located the enemy and was beginning to corner them.

“The moment they breach the surface, fire a volley with the charged particle beam cannons.”

Ariabert readjusted himself in his command seat and took a coffee cup from the tray presented by a female NCO.

“That might just be the end of it. I shouldn’t be too optimistic, but…”

Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal

I

During the “Phoney War”, it was difficult to judge whether it was Tytania or the anti-Tytania faction who committed the most mistakes. In the first place, the anti-Tytania faction shared nothing more than a single commonality: their dissatisfaction with Tytania’s rule.

While the Bargash government hated Tytania, it could not help but harbour resentment towards the meddlesome rogue elements that had brought about the national crisis. Unlike Fan Hyulick or Doctor Lee, Bargash possessed much that was at stake.

The commander of the Bargash Regular Army who was travelling with Fan Hyulick and the others known as the “rejects of the Blaze Flag Army” was the seasoned Rear-Admiral Turbil. His aide-de-camp was Lieutenant-Commander Irk. Having experienced the tyranny of Duke Zarlisch Tytania, he possessed a strong will to fight against Tytania and a deep sympathy for Hyulick’s group, yet his primary sense of loyalty remained with his homeland, Bargash. The first mission entrusted to them was the preservation of their fleet’s combat strength.

“The people in the Bargash government care more about tomorrow’s breakfast than today’s dinner,” thought Fan Hyulick to himself, but he remained silent, for it would be troublesome if he upset his patron and was told, “Fine, then fight Tytania on your own.” However, according to the explanation Doctor Lee had provided to Miranda, the methods employed by the Bargash government were even more ruthless than that.

“We have been bundled together onto this single ship. In other words, if this ship were to be sunk in an emergency, the Bargash government would have an excuse to present to Tytania.”

“So that is why they did not have us board in separate groups?”

“Because for the Bargash government, it is a cheap price to pay if it can be settled with just one cruiser.”

“But doing something like that would only weaken their own position. For instance, there is no way Tytania would withdraw their demands to be granted the right to vet locators.”

“Even if they were to accept Tytania’s demands, Bargash would have no need to follow through.”

Doctor Lee stated this with absolute clarity.

“That is an extreme way of putting it, but there are countless ways to delay implementation, and there are even strategies to invalidate the very qualification of being a locator to establish a different system. As far as this particular matter is concerned, Bargash possesses more tradition and authority than Tytania.”

Fan Hyulick blinked and looked back at Doctor Lee.

“If you understood that much, then why…”

Why had he not shown the Bargash government a way to avoid war? Lee laughed at Hyulick’s question.

“It was only natural. If I had told them such a thing, the Bargash government would not have taken arms against Tytania.”

To him, it was a logical and clear-cut fact. They could not oppose Tytania on their own. He had to involve the Bargash government. To do that, he needed to drive the Bargash government into a corner. It was as simple as that.

In short, they were not some “resistance movement bound by beautiful comradeship”. If anything, the label Tytania used in their propaganda—“vicious terrorists who disturb the peace and order of the universe”—might have been more accurate. At the very least, one could certainly not claim they were people of pure character.

Doctor Lee went on to further explain the enemy’s psychology.

“Lord Ariabert has long since achieved victory in terms of war as a political tool. However, being an excellent soldier and a man of uncompromising integrity, that alone is not enough to satisfy him.”

He desired to compete against the enemy head-on, proving his superiority in strategy and tactics to achieve a victory that was clear to all eyes. Yet, while Ariabert hungered for such a feat, his restraint as a prominent figure of Tytania outweighed his personal desires. Even if he could not find emotional satisfaction, as long as he could secure political victories that brought benefits to Tytania, Ariabert would not persist in useless displays of force. At the very least, he should not.

The reason he sought to pursue the fugitives to the very end and desired a complete victory through the use of force this time was that the cowardice of the Bargash government and the way Fan Hyulick’s faction continued to run away were a provocation to Ariabert’s sense of aesthetics. He simply could not allow such a disgraceful group to go unpunished, nor could he offer them a half-hearted pardon. Ariabert believed that for the sake of the honour of the Tytanian military and for the sake of future order, they had to be dealt with thoroughly. It was precisely within that fact that the only remaining path for Hyulick and his men lay.

Alan Mahdi interrogated him, his voice sharpening with tension.

“So, what do we do now?”

“What should we do, you ask?”

“We’re at war! How do you intend to fight against Tytania’s army? You have a plan for victory, don’t you?” shouted Mahdi.

His interference in tactical matters stemmed not from a high fighting spirit but from his lack of desire to perish alongside Hyulick and Doctor Lee.

“I have left everything in the hands of Admiral Hyulick.”

Doctor Lee replied with composure:

“My late uncle used to say that the secret to a healthy life is delegating to others what one is bad at. I ought to heed the advice of my elder.”

“A fitting pair, that uncle and nephew. Did this uncle of yours never teach you that fulfilling one’s responsibilities is the true way of a man?”

Mahdi himself limited his own duties strictly to the group’s financial management. Consequently, regarding combat command, he believed he could simply hold others accountable, having no intention of devising tactics himself. Doctor Lee was being sarcastic regarding that attitude, but of course, Mahdi failed to realise it.

It was Miranda who noticed. This robust woman, who had once been a princess of a nation, let out a hearty laugh, despite her sarcasm.

“Mahdi, just as you pave your path with cheap copper coins, Doctor Lee and Fan pave theirs with gold coins stamped with deep foresight and prudence. How about you be a little more humble and just wait?”

“Gold coins?! How do you know they aren’t just gilded fakes? Trust requires proof.”

It was a valid point, but since Mahdi’s lack of popularity surpassed even that of Doctor Lee, his trivial bickering failed to escalate into an internal conflict.

… At that moment, an event occurred that left the Tytania Fleet headquarters in a state of bewilderment. A transmission had been received from the very enemy they were pursuing. Ariabert failed to immediately grasp the contents of the message, which had been sent under the name “Bargash Regular Army”. He knitted his brows slightly and glared at the intelligence officer.

“What does this mean?”

“It is… exactly as the transmission says. They intend to sink the ship carrying Fan Hyulick and his companions with their own hands, provided that we accept their request for an immediate ceasefire.”

A stir arose among those surrounding Ariabert.

“Have they lost their minds?” groaned Rear-admiral Paulsen.

To Ariabert and his staff officers alike, it was an unbelievable proposal.

Had he been Clanner Ajman, he would have laughed derisively, accepted the filthy offer, and subsequently denied that such an offer had ever existed. But Ariabert was not Ajman.

“We received no such communication. Erase the records. For the sake of everyone’s honour.”

Ariabert’s voice was restrained, but he could not entirely hide his feelings regarding the hideous proposal. It was Rear-Admiral Paulsen who voiced his agreement loudly.

“It would be a pity for Fan Hyulick to die in such a manner. Let us destroy this heroic rebel with our own hands.”

Ariabert felt a faint, strange sense of distaste toward this young, loyal soldier. It was the same sensation he had felt towards the late Zarlisch. Ariabert did not like those who expressed their confidence with exaggeration, content to dwell within a self-made illusion.

Nothing sat well with him. He felt as though he were being lured into some unpredictable, sinister trap. This uncharacteristic suspicion weighed heavily upon Ariabert, leaving him with a dull ache in the pit of his stomach.

Throughout the previous year, he had exerted the full extent of his intellect as a commander, devising the strategies and tactics required to engage the Bargash fleet in a decisive battle in outer space. Instead, all of that effort had come to nothing, and he found himself instead chasing a mere handful of troops fleeing across the seabed of a single planet. This was the height of frustration. Victory was an absolute certainty, yet it was equally clear that even in triumph, he would gain not even a milligram of satisfaction.

He was not fighting for personal gratification. But even though he told himself this repeatedly, he could not dispel the sense of unease. Furthermore, given his position as commander-in-chief, he could not afford to expose his private inner turmoil to the eyes of others.

“Commander Granite, do you have any opinions?”

Ariabert sought input from another person.

“I would ask you to be wary of the seabed. There is a possibility that explosives or missiles have been placed on the ocean floor. Furthermore, enemy vessels may be lurking within the seabed sands. Please remain vigilant.”

As for Commander Granite, he could not help but recall the untimely death of his superior, Duke Zarlisch. Zarlisch had tasted an unexpected bitterness when struck by fire from an enemy ship that had been hiding beneath the sands. Granite’s warning possessed an undeniable persuasiveness, and Ariabert ordered each vessel to conduct depth charge attacks against the seabed. However, since it would be foolish to waste depth charges before the commencement of full-scale combat, he limited the number of uses to ten per ship. Even so, a vast number of depth charges detonated upon the seabed, kicking up tens of millions of tonnes of sand that had accumulated since ancient times.

Ariabert watched with a heavy heart as the image on the screen shifted from a dark clarity to a dark turbidity. It was more than just a half-measure; he felt as though what he was doing was utterly pointless.

II

The change was sudden. The hull jolted violently. For the Tytania soldiers on board, it was almost like being tossed into the air. More than one person barely managed to avoid falling and let out a cry of alarm. A coffee cup, placed at the edge of the command desk, slid into the air along with its saucer and smashed against the floor with a crash of protest.

Ariabert gazed at the screen. The computer-corrected image showed delicate glimmers dancing wildly within the pitch-black depths of the sea. It was a decoy released by the enemy to disrupt the Tytania military’s reconnaissance systems. The Tytania formation had fallen into disarray, and an operator, clinging to the control console, reported the presence of an intense current reaching speeds of sixty kilometres per hour.

Rear-admiral Paulsen cried out:

“Impossible! There’s no way such a strong current could exist in a basin, let alone near the seabed.”

Yet the current was a reality, and it was violently sweeping the Tytania fleet away. Ariabert issued instructions to Captain Chen: “Don’t place too much trust in the data from the Hydrographic Bureau. Calculate backwards from the direction and speed of the current to deduce the seabed topography.” Captain Chen immediately had the operator perform the task, and forty seconds later, the screen began to render the seabed topography as estimated by the computer.

Groans erupted around Ariabert, and the young duke etched a pale smile onto the corner of his lips. They were positioned within a deep-sea corridor where ridges towered high on either side.

“Your Grace, this is…!”

“Did the Hydrographic Bureau deceive us?”

At the cries of his staff officers, Ariabert shook his head.

“No, the people at the Hydrographic Bureau likely know nothing. They probably believe that Tytania simply seized the correct data from them. Otherwise, this stratagem would be unusable.”

Ariabert realised that he had been caught in a ruse.

“Damn it, they got us!” The angry shouts of the subordinates rang out in vain. Navigational assistance from satellite orbit could only reach depths of two thousand metres below sea level, leaving the Tytania fleet with no choice but to act based on the data provided by the Hydrographic Bureau. Furthermore, the enemy had scattered metal and non-metal decoys to confuse Tytania’s search systems. It was not intended to hide the enemy’s location but rather to obscure the seabed topography.

The seawater expanded and exploded. One of the search officers screamed, ripping the headphones from his head. Because the unfortunate man had been engaged in acoustic searching, the intense blast had damaged his eardrums.

It was not a missile that had exploded. The enemy had launched unpropelled explosives, allowing them to surge forward on the ocean currents. The Tytania fleet had been clustered in the centre of the deep-sea corridor formed by these currents. They had been left with no other choice. It was a success for the “vicious terrorists” who had driven the Tytania forces into such a position, rendering Ariabert’s tactical vision and command abilities useless.

A dull vibration and sound were transmitted from outside the hulls, and they continued without interruption. As the pressure from the explosions pressed against the currents, and as each ship began individual manoeuvres to avoid contact with the explosives or the hulls of other vessels, the chaos expanded all at once. Though they were accustomed to piloting within the asteroid belts of outer space, they were caught between the narrowness of the space and a subtle distortion in their sense of time, driven towards catastrophe without the ability to demonstrate their true strength.

“Cruiser Bramante III, communications lost!”

“Battleship Beaufort, heavily damaged! Surfacing to withdraw from the combat zone!”

Digital communications flashed erratically as every ship became shrouded in panic and confusion. Ariabert appeared somewhat pale at his command seat, yet he remained the most composed member of the entire fleet. Staring at the flashes of explosions blinking across the dark screens, he steadied his breathing and issued orders in a voice unchanged from his usual tone.

“All ships, ascend. Break away from the current, and regroup thereafter.”

In this situation, such a conventional command proved effective in curbing the panic. Each captain regained their composure and ordered their ascent. It appeared, for a moment, that the Tytania forces had restored order and were about to resurface to reconstitute the entire fleet. However, even that was merely part of the enemy’s deception.

One of the Tytania ships that had begun its rapid ascent was struck by a thunderous explosion. Fragments of metal and non-metal were ejected in six directions from the fireball, drifting slowly through the dark abyss as they spun, carried away by the intense ocean currents.

Ariabert realised that the enemy’s treachery was double or even triple-layered. The enemy was making the utmost use of the natural environment. They launched explosives towards the far heights, leaving them to sink via gravity. As the Tytania forces ascended sharply, they were effectively charging straight into the explosives themselves.

High-pressure seawater surged into the shattered hull, crushing the crew. Driven by gravity and ocean currents, the vessel careened towards the friendly forces. A vicious cycle of contact, evasion, and re-contact ensued, forcing an unwanted concentration of ships, right at the moment when explosives were hurled into the fray. In the eternal darkness of the deep seabed, orange flashes chained together in spherical bursts.

The successive explosions caused the seawater to boil. The Tytania forces, waiting at low altitude, sensed the anomaly when the sea surface burst and escape pods, resembling large bubbles, began to surface one after another. If they attempted an immediate dive into the ocean, they risked colliding with their surfacing comrades. While working to recover the escape pods, they transmitted communications in search of an accurate report.

An explosion occurred in the immediate vicinity of Ariabert’s flagship, the Golden Sheep, and a torn companion ship collided with the flagship while spinning. This triggered a chain reaction in the engine room, sending flashes of light and vibrations through the entire flagship.

Ariabert’s field of vision changed instantly. He felt his tall frame being flung up the walls towards the ceiling. His flagship was being violently spun by the invisible, massive hands of the ocean currents and the pressure from the explosion. Inside, the crew were tossed about like laundry in a dryer, slammed against the walls, ceiling, and floor. Even those who had remained strapped into their seats were injured by the bodies of flying comrades and loose equipment.

It was not until twenty seconds later that Captain Chen finally managed to stabilise the ship’s orientation.

“Duke…!”

The screams of a staff officer battered his ears, and Ariabert regained consciousness. At first, his sense of up and down was so disrupted that he could not grasp his own orientation. The faces of his staff officers formed a ring around his field of vision. A thin trickle of lukewarm liquid ran past his right ear, and he felt a point of pain at the edge of his forehead.

Once he confirmed he was lying on his back and attempted to sit up, an intense pain exploded in his ribcage. He managed to stifle a scream, but he could not prevent his face from contorting. His ribs were broken.

He had been slammed against the walls and ceiling at least four times. Compared to those who had suffered broken necks or had shards of instruments driven into their eyes, Ariabert’s misfortune could be considered a small one.

Barely able to pull himself upright, and while receiving treatment from the army surgeon, Ariabert ordered his staff officers to announce his injuries to the entire army. Rear-admiral Paulsen, whose face was marred by a dark bruise, voiced his concern.

“But if the enemy intercepts that, it will lead to a disaster.”

“Let it be so. If they give chase, we shall counterattack. If they deem it false intelligence and refrain from pursuit, then we shall return safely. Follow my orders.”

This, too, was a deceptive scheme uncharacteristic of Ariabert. It served as proof of his state of mental instability during this “Phoney War”.

However, Ariabert had sincerely hoped that the enemy would press their advantage and pursue him. He had intended to use his flexible military genius to launch a cunning counteroffensive, thereby clearing the stain of the “Phoney War”. In the end, however, his martial spirit remained unfulfilled. The enemies within the sea had launched no attack. At that time, it was impossible to confirm whether they had intercepted his communications.

… Four hours later, Ariabert entered a private room in a hospital that had been seized by the Tytania forces. The Tytania army had lost sixty vessels, seen twenty-six heavily damaged, and suffered eight thousand battle deaths, only to be driven from the sea, having gained nothing at all.

III

Ariabert’s injuries were diagnosed with a recovery period of three months. Although his mental acuity and vigour showed no sign of waning, his endurance was closely linked to his physical health. It was difficult for him to maintain the absolute authority over the expeditionary force that he had exercised until the day before.

From his sickbed, Ariabert issued instructions to divide his authority in two, delegating the negotiations and dealings with the Bargash government to Count Elman, while the management and operation of the military organisation were entrusted to Vice-Admiral Baldren. It was unavoidable that the authority of those in charge of the day-to-day operations should diminish in such circumstances. As Ariabert himself devoted himself to convalescence, he expressed his condolences and compensation to the fallen and their bereaved families, and thereafter remained confined to the hospital.

The planet Bargash was thrown into quite an uproar. While most were delighted by Tytania’s defeat, once the initial joy had faded, a sense of foreboding began to quietly knock at the doors of their hearts. People spoke in low voices to one another. For anxiety was something that ought to be passed from mouth-to-mouth, spreading to others rather than being kept to oneself.

“That is why we should have driven those troublesome sorts to the edge of the universe as quickly as possible. At this rate, they will pollute the seas of our planet. Don’t you agree?”

“Are you then planning to indict Lord Ariabert and his ilk for violating environmental protection laws?”

“Stop with this nonsense.”

“It is not as nonsensical as you fear. Duke Ariabert is still very much alive, so how exactly do you propose we drive away the Tytania army?”

While Ariabert himself was not disliked by the people of Bargash, there was, fundamentally, a sense of resentment and hostility towards Tytania. It was only natural that many reacted with “serves them right”, and it was equally understandable that cheers were sent to the forces that had dealt Tytania a bitter defeat.

The Tytania army’s responsibilities were divided such that Vice-Admiral Baldren was stationed in the capital to manage the headquarters’ functions, Rear-Admiral Paulsen continued sea searches while plagued by fury and self-reproach, and Vice-Admiral Silas commanded and supervised the mobile units in satellite orbit. Barring the occurrence of some urgent crisis, this arrangement should have been perfectly sound.

The dignitaries of the Bargash government who visited the hospital to pay their respects were politely brushed off and sent away. Even those who attempted to meet Ariabert in person to gauge his expression failed to achieve their purpose.

On the fourth day of his hospitalisation, Count Elman, who had taken on responsibilities far beyond anything he could have imagined a year prior, brought news regarding Uraniborg to Ariabert. It was then that Ariabert learned for the first time of the matter in which Duchess Theresa Tytania was causing bewilderment among the Clanner and the dukes by claiming she would succeed her late son.

“It must be quite difficult for Lord Jouslain as well.”

Ariabert’s voice sounded as if he were discussing someone else’s business. Count Elman politely observed the young duke’s expression. Surely, Ariabert himself must be facing greater difficulties than Lord Jouslain. Despite the fact that he could not possibly be unaware of this, Ariabert remained detached. It struck Count Elman that the man’s composure was almost excessive.

Ariabert received several reports from Count Elman regarding the negotiations with Bargash, gave his approval to the Count’s course of action, and then changed his expression.

“Lord Elman.”

Called upon, Count Elman braced his heart and waited for Ariabert’s words.

“I must take responsibility for the numerous failures, blunders, and errors in judgement I committed during this current expedition. I intend to submit my resignation to His Clanner Highness Ajman within the week. When I do, Lord Elman, I would like to ask of you to sign as a witness.”

“You wish to resign?”

Count Elman wasn’t completely feigning denseness through political acting. In truth, he was somewhat bewildered. Until now, Ariabert’s handling of his own failures had been nothing short of perfect. Count Elman had believed that the convalescence in the hospital was merely a way to buy time to devise a strategy to avoid being held accountable by the Clanner. However, Ariabert was now announcing his withdrawal not only from his position as commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force but from all public offices.

“A letter of resignation is merely a written expression of one’s intent to step down.”

Whether consciously or not, Ariabert had given an evasive reply. Count Elman suppressed a click of his tongue.

“But once Your Grace has relinquished your military authority, whom are we to appoint as the supreme commander of the Tytania expeditionary force?”

“That matter rests solely with His Clanner Highness. It would be inappropriate for someone in my position, a remnant of a defeated force, to presume to say otherwise.”

To Count Elman, Ariabert’s response seemed perfect. Or perhaps the man truly desired a life of quiet seclusion. Unable to judge his true intentions, Count Elman attempted to probe Ariabert’s heart.

“However, once Your Grace has relinquished your military authority, it is likely that Lord Idris will succeed you in that position. Even so, will you still step down?”

“I will.”

Ariabert responded dispassionately, and then, for the first time, a sardonic smile flickered across his face.

“I do possess a certain amount of self-confidence. If Lord Idris is capable of doing more than I can, then I should very much like to see him prove it.”

“Lord Idris is young, but because of that, one might expect great potential from him. I suppose that is all we can hope for.”

Count Elman had deliberately taken a risk. Had the person he was speaking to been Zarlisch, such a remark would likely have been met with a thunderous roar of fury and a display of strength pushed to the very limit. Ariabert, however, merely gave a light laugh.

“Then so be it. It would be a joyous occasion for Tytania, and it would simply mean that my loss of position is only natural.”

“But…”

Count Elman met that bland conjunction with silence. Was Lord Ariabert’s attitude that of a defeated man who had lost both tension and spirit? Was he a political strategist, awakened to intrigue, plotting something? Or was it some high-minded philosophy? No, perhaps it was merely the naive observation typical of a young man of high nobility, believing that his time would inevitably come again.

Beneath his gentle expression, Count Elman’s mind worked through a whirlwind of thoughts, yet he could reach no conclusion. Ultimately, Count Elman had never truly understood this noble admiral, who was some fifteen years his junior.

IV

On the 10^th of February, Ariabert’s resignation reached Uraniborg.

Idris, who had taken such pleasure in gloating over the failures of others and had never ceased his relentless pursuit of Ariabert’s accountability, curled his lip in a sneer upon hearing that Ariabert was resigning his post as commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force. His brow twitched slightly when he heard that Ariabert intended to relinquish all military authority. Finally, when he learned that Ariabert was also withdrawing from the Council of the Five Families to devote himself entirely to house arrest, Idris could no longer remain silent.

“What on earth is he thinking? Does that bastard Ariabert intend to become a hermit? Does he think he can simply punish himself and call it settled, without even waiting for His Clanner Highness’ verdict!”

Primarily, Idris might have been frustrated at being robbed of the pleasure of berating Ariabert, but that was certainly not the only reason. It could be said that the abrupt and absolute nature of Ariabert’s withdrawal had sent shock-waves through all of Uraniborg.

Lord Ariabert resigned from all public offices, relinquished his military authority, and withdrew from the Council of the Five Families, the supreme decision-making body. This meant that Ariabert was retreating significantly from the race amongst the dukes vying for the next position of Clanner.

The high-ranking officers of the Tytania military exchanged heated opinions in their excitement.

“They say Lord Ariabert failed in his mission, but then who exactly could have succeeded?”

“He did not fail in the first place. He forced the Bargash government into submission without bloodshed through sheer display of military might. It was a magnificent success.”

“It was unfortunate that he was outmanoeuvred by those bandits, Fan Hyulick and his gang, but that is a small matter. His past achievements more than compensate for it.”

“Even so, I wonder what will become of things from here on.”

In the end, this opinion served as the final summary, and the soldiers merely shrugged their shoulders and fell silent. To verbalise and express anything further was dangerous within Tytania. Yet, in truth, who could possibly replace Lord Ariabert?

Under normal circumstances, Idris should have gone to the planet Bargash in Ariabert’s stead to command from the front lines. This was even more pertinent given that Idris himself had explicitly stated his intention to do so in the past. However, Idris had no choice but to avoid such an occurrence.

Of course, it was not that he lacked the courage to go to the battlefield. Rather, it was political calculation that constrained his actions. With Zarlisch permanently removed from the Council of the Five Families, if Ariabert were to withdraw indefinitely, and if Idris himself were to depart for distant Bargash, then only Clanner Ajman and Jouslain would remain in Uraniborg. For Idris, such a move would be tantamount to leaving his own fate in the hands of his political rivals.

“I cannot simply stand by and allow them to decide whatever they please in my absence. I cannot leave Uraniborg.”

Idris had made his decision. However, that left the question of who would succeed Ariabert.

“Perhaps I shall simply nominate Jouslain as Ariabert’s successor. Whether he is truly up to the task or not will be amusing to see.”

It seemed like a good idea. However, Idris found himself forced to hastily reject his own proposal. If Jouslain were to become the acting commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force, he would naturally have to travel to the planet Bargash to meet with the bedridden Ariabert. There is no telling what the two of them might plot at that moment. Idris, being a man possessed of many political machinations himself, had a tendency to view his rivals through such a lens.

As far as he was concerned, he absolutely had to prevent an alliance between Ariabert and Jouslain. Nevertheless, he found himself unable to employ the tactic of siding with one to oust the other. He had shown far too much hostility towards both of them up until this point. Even if he were to propose a joint struggle to either of them now, he would likely only be met with a derisive rejection. Perhaps he should have been more cunning by concealing his competitive spirit more effectively. Idris wanted to click his tongue in frustration.

“Damn that Ariabert, he is far more difficult to deal with than I anticipated. Even though he was thoroughly defeated by Fan Hyulick’s faction and failed his mission, no one even points that fact out.”

On the contrary, sympathy both within and outside Tytania was concentrating on Ariabert, and his reputation was actually rising. Had Ariabert calculated things that far in advance? If so, he was far more than just a mere warrior; he was a considerable strategist. For Idris, who had regarded Ariabert as easy to handle, this was a source of unavoidable anxiety and bewilderment.

It was his younger brother Radmoth who went out of his way to provoke that bewilderment. The younger brother had a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time.

“It simply means that Lord Ariabert lost again and was forced to take the blame. Since your competitor has been removed from the race, shouldn’t you be celebrating, brother?”

“You are the one who should be celebrating.”

Idris spat the words out in the height of displeasure. While Radmoth’s simple optimism irritated him, Idris was, above all else, angry with himself.

In any event, Ariabert had moved one step away from his supreme position. Seizing upon this opportunity, Idris wished to devise a plan to widen the gap between the Clanner’s throne and Ariabert even further. However, the reality was that he could not grasp Ariabert’s true intentions, nor could he predict Jouslain’s response; as a result, he found himself unable to actively employ stratagems to strengthen his own position. Idris was dissatisfied with his own somewhat regressive attitude.

Even so, during the meeting of the Council of the Five Families on the 11^th of February, Idris interrogated Ariabert with sharp intensity, demanding he take responsibility. He argued that Ariabert had fallen headlong into the bandits’ cunning schemes, resulting in a defeat—albeit a small-scale one—that cost the lives of subordinates and, above all, tarnished the honour of Tytania. Furthermore, Idris claimed that Ariabert’s attempt to abandon the position and authority entrusted to him by His Clanner Highness was utterly preposterous. He asserted that such irresponsibility was unforgivable and that appropriate disciplinary measures should be imposed. That was the argument he put forward.

In such instances, the Clanner usually remained silent and let Jouslain handle the matter. Having listened to the conclusion of Idris’ argument, he slowly opened his mouth:

“At first, you demand that Lord Ariabert take full responsibility. But you also criticise him for resigning from his public office. I wonder, Lord Idris, what manner of actions from Lord Ariabert would earn praise from you?”

Watching the colour drain from Idris’ face, Jouslain self-reflected. His own nature was even more ill-tempered; he knew exactly how to say things that would wound others, yet he made no effort to avoid doing so. That said, it was also an undeniable fact that he could not bring himself to feel any true affection for this cousin who was three years his junior.

After three or four rounds of fruitless exchange, the Clanner declared the morning meeting adjourned, announcing that proceedings would resume at five in the afternoon. Lately, the Clanner had shown a tendency to avoid reaching immediate conclusions.

Idris left the room with a hint of indignation, and as Jouslain prepared to follow, the Clanner called him back. While that steel-like expression had not yet shown any cracks, one might have been able to detect a microscopic trace of bewilderment in the voice that addressed him:

“To submit his resignation before even facing censure; I do not believe such a notion was ever present in Lord Ariabert in the past…”

“It is as you say.”

“Did someone plant ideas in Lord Ariabert’s head?”

“Who can say…”

Jouslain did not state it aloud as a certainty, but he suspected that was not the case. He thought that perhaps it was the utterly unwelcome defeat and the subsequent time spent in his sickbed that had caused Ariabert to undergo a psychological metamorphosis.

Ariabert had fallen victim to the wiles of Fan Hyulick for the second time. Compared to the first defeat, the stage was smaller, and the losses were less significant. However, it must have delivered a fatal blow to the loser’s pride; had the person involved been Zarlisch or Idris, they would surely have been tormented by frenzied rage and humiliation.

Ariabert had managed to weather it. He accepted defeat with composure and took responsibility in a manner that no one could have ever imagined. More precisely, he had managed to convince others of his method of taking responsibility. While Idris’ opinion, “Can this really be called taking responsibility?” was correct in one respect, the fact that anyone hearing it would perceive it as nothing more than Idris’ malice was perhaps a reflection of Idris’ own lack of virtue.

Jouslain returned to his office. He had intended to approve eight documents during the morning, write a letter to Ariabert, and have lunch with Princess Lydia and Francia. However, at 10:50, his modest plans were interrupted. A guest had arrived.

A woman once beautiful, now adorned like a peacock. It was Duchess Theresa Tytania. By protocol, she was Jouslain’s aunt. Upon being formally ushered into the drawing room, the Duchess opened her garishly painted lips:

“It seems Ariabert has finally found the courage to act like a man and take responsibility. He really should have taken responsibility after his first defeat. He truly is a boy devoid of any decisiveness.”

This noblewoman, who enjoyed the greatest freedom of speech in this vast space city, prattled on, the excess flesh of her cheeks and chin trembling as she spoke. Though she had come to seek Jouslain’s assistance in securing formally her duchy, she spoke of the absent Ariabert as if she had forgotten her primary purpose.

“His mother’s upbringing must have been poor. She was a most slovenly woman, after all.”

“Duchess, please, let us not speak of the deceased so lightly.”

“Oh, Jouslain, what a polite boy you are. Though, one could argue that politeness is merely another name for hypocrisy.”

“…”

“Jouslain, I don’t believe you would ever defend that woman, would you? After all, she forced both you and your mother to swallow bitter pills. In the first place…”

“Duchess!”

Jouslain’s voice struck Lady Theresa’s lips like an invisible whip. After a momentary shudder, the Duchess glared at Jouslain with dissatisfaction, but as she sensed the strength of will embedded in his deep eyes, she shuddered once more. She let out an exaggerated cough to shake off her dread.

After a silence of about two seconds, Jouslain restored a polite mildness to his voice.

“More importantly, there is something I wish to ask you, Duchess.”

“And what might that be?”

“You have never before made any political demands, so why are you suddenly seeking power of late? It seems to me quite unnecessary.”

Theresa Tytania did not answer immediately. A cunning light flickered in her eyes, and once it had vanished, she spoke in a voice that sounded performative.

“That is quite unlike you, Jouslain. It is obvious, isn’t it? It is because my dear Zarlisch met such an unhappy end. Had that boy only lived, I could have entrusted him both my house and the Tytania Clan as a whole with peace of mind.”

For the very first time, Jouslain felt he was hearing the words of a mother lacking in sincerity. Nearly everyone in the clan knew that Lady Theresa favoured her second son, Arses, and remained cold towards her eldest, Zarlisch. The expression “dear Zarlisch” carried an immensely grotesque ring to it. That grotesqueness likely ran through the very lineage of the entire Tytania Clan. Rule by blood. The politicisation of selfish genes. The monopoly of power by a single family. That horror stood before Jouslain, expressed through a garish symbol.

Furthermore, she was undoubtedly a broken mirror, reflecting distorted images of Jouslain himself and Ariabert. He allowed the image of Ariabert’s mother—the woman who was, to Jouslain, his mother’s own sister—to flicker through his mind before using his will to cast the vision out of his consciousness.

“So, Duchess, is it that you have awakened to your sense of mission as a member of the Tytania main line?”

“In any case, it is impossible for just the three of you to decide the supreme will of Tytania, Jouslain. If we do not fill the vacancies with the correct individuals, a rebellious opportunist will surely appear. For the time being, why not let me, a member of the legitimate bloodline, sit in that seat, and then we can carry out a proper, permanent appointment later?”

She has a point, thought Jouslain. And ironically, it was that very point that aroused his suspicion. Lady Theresa was not lacking in intelligence, but she was a person who could not restrain her emotions and desires with reason.

Unlike Ariabert, there was little possibility that Lady Theresa would achieve a meteoric growth or awakening. The only conceivable explanation, to borrow the phrasing of Clanner Ajman, was that “someone had planted ideas” in her. It was at this moment that Jouslain clearly perceived that there was someone standing behind Lady Theresa.

… At almost the same time, Idris, who viewed Jouslain as an obstacle to his succession to the Clanner throne, sat ensconced on the sofa in his private room, lost in thought as he warmed a brandy glass in his palm.

To form an alliance with Zarlisch’s mother, that noblewoman driven by nothing but obsession and greed. It filled Idris with such dread that the mere thought of it sent a wave of nausea through his stomach, as if he had been forced to swallow cheap alcohol.

What Idris desired was the supreme power of Tytania. It was the throne of the cosmic hegemon, the seat of the ruler of human society. It was a position so magnificent and sublime that it inspired dread, and the struggle to attain it ought to be equally magnificent and sublime. Be that as it may. So how pathetic it was that he had to establish an alliance with someone who could not even grasp the true value of the Clanner’s throne.

Yet, if that was the best way to obtain it…

Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue

I

From February to March SY 447, Uraniborg, the stronghold of the Tytania Clan, became the epicentre of rumours that lacked all restraint. Ariabert’s resignation sent ripples far and wide; as time passed from the initial report, mid-level officers drifted through the flood of gossip amongst themselves, and soldiers did the same amongst their own ranks.

“It felt as though the mere fact that Lord Ariabert had resigned his post as Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force caused all the accumulated rot the Tytania had gathered over centuries to erupt at once. In other words, the Pax Tytaniana had already reached a breaking point, and Lord Ariabert’s resignation was the final straw that broke the camel’s back.”

That was a retrospective judgement, but for the time being, countless mouths and ears within Uraniborg were in extremely active motion.

“If Lord Ariabert intends to refuse even attendance at the Council of the Five Families, then there is no point in him holding the title of duke in the first place. Should he not first relinquish his dukedom?”

“That may be so, but if he does, a new issue regarding the succession of a ducal house will arise. Lord Ariabert is unmarried and has no children.”

“Lord Ariabert should be summoned from Bargash so that His Clanner Highness may conduct the inquiry personally. Of course, interstellar flight will be impossible until his injuries have fully healed.”

“Even so, unless a successor commander is decided upon, millions of soldiers and officers will be left abandoned on the frontier.”

“In the first place, now that it has come to this, what purpose is there in maintaining an expeditionary force of three million stationed in Bargash? Would it not be better to withdraw?”

“But the people of Bargash would be the ones clapping their hands in joy. They might well spread propaganda claiming they forced Tytania to retreat…”

And so, in the end, the eyes of everyone, both inside and outside Uraniborg, converged upon a single point. Lowering their voices even further, and wary of the ears of third parties, people posed the question only to those they trusted most intimately.

“What, in truth, is His Clanner Highness himself thinking?”

Clanner Ajman maintained an official silence and through that wordlessness, cast a sense of oppression over all of Uraniborg. People gazed upon the Clanner’s heavy silence through the lenses of their own intuition, reason, and self-interest, enduring a chilling dread.

To an outsider, Tytania appeared to be a solid crystal centred around the Clanner, yet it was also a human collective. Even within political parties or religious organisations, which were supposedly brainwashed by a single ideology or dogma, internal conflicts and struggles arose. These were, perhaps, only as mild as the gossip amongst lower-ranking members.

“Even so, tragedies have been following one after another since around last year. Duke Zarlisch met a violent death, and now Duke Ariabert has resigned due to his injuries.”

“Who will it be this time?”

Some spoke those words instinctively, only to hurriedly cover their mouths. Of the four dukes, only Jouslain and Idris could be considered unscathed. Unlike Zarlisch and Ariabert, they had been stationed relatively within domestic affairs or rear-guard departments rather than on the front lines and thus had few opportunities to sustain injuries.

Between the two of them, Idris maintained a close relationship with Countess Theodora Tytania. Although Idris felt no affection for her, he was unable to sever their ties, driven by both a fear of her approaching the Clanner and his own physical desires.

Idris turned twenty-five that year. He possessed an intense drive to surpass the other dukes, yet he felt no sense of temporal urgency. It would be fine if he secured the Clanner’s throne in the next twenty years. Until now, that is. However, he realised that by that time, different competitors would emerge. The Clanner’s biological children, who were currently young, would have reached adulthood by then.

It was Theodora who had suggested this to him in his bedroom. Having discovered the reasons why Idris could not leave Uraniborg, she had made the following proposal:

“Then there is only one conclusion. His Clanner Highness must decide to dispatch Lord Jouslain to Bargash as the acting commander.”

Theodora’s gaze spoke of her confusion as to why he was hesitating. Naturally, Idris took offence. Theodora was critiquing his lack of decisiveness, but Idris had long since reached the same conclusion herself. He knew that Ariabert and Jouslain must not be allowed to form an alliance. Idris rebuked her, wondering how she could fail to grasp something so simple, yet her reaction remained calm.

“Wouldn’t this be fine?”

“What…?”

“It matters not what Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain might plot in some far-flung corner of the galaxy, far from Uraniborg. To my mind, Lord Idris, your concerns are unnecessary—or rather, they are mere groundless fears.”

Idris was left speechless. He had feared the alliance between Jouslain and Ariabert might become manifest, yet Theodora had dismissed the matter with a light laugh. As Idris cast a suspicious gaze upon her, wondering whether she was being bold or merely foolish, Theodora smiled at him with complete composure.

“Lord Idris, even if Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain were to engage in some unsettling conspiracy, His Clanner Highness and you are both here at Uraniborg. Whether it be a conspiracy or an act of treason, why not simply brush it aside and be done with it?”

“Treason…? What on earth are you thinking?”

Idris’ voice deepened. This time, Theodora did not reply immediately. She merely etched a crescent-shaped smile upon her lips, gazed at her lover’s face, and twirled the stem of her brandy glass between her fingers.

Idris felt a trace of cold sweat on his forehead and under his arms. He understood. He had understood all along. And he had simply hesitated to speak it aloud. This woman was suggesting precisely this to him: send Jouslain to planet Bargash to meet with Ariabert. Once they had met, that meeting would serve as proof of a conspiracy against the Clanner, providing the means to bring them both down.

In this instance, facts held no meaning. What mattered were perception and interpretation. Meaning existed first, and facts were merely the means by which that meaning was given form.

“Ariabert and Jouslain met on Bargash. Their purpose was to launch a rebellion against Your Clanner Highness.”

Idris’ thoughts were defensive in nature. If Ariabert and Jouslain were to form an alliance to bring him down, his own strength alone would be insufficient to resist them. He could only resort to invoking the authority of the Clanner, yet he doubted the Clanner would stand by him to face Ariabert and Jouslain. Would it not be Idris himself who was at risk of being abandoned? If that were the case, then to bring the Clanner to his side, he had no choice but to prevent the alliance between Ariabert and Jouslain.

Idris’ thoughts were on the verge of turning into a maze of contradictions. Observing this, Theodora spoke with a thin, sharp smile:

“To allow Lord Jouslain to depart for Bargash while ensuring Lord Idris does not turn against you. There is but a single way.”

“And that is…?”

“How about we keep that little girl as a hostage in Uraniborg? I believe she is called Lydia, that princess from that impoverished nation.”

She was a woman of many little wits. Idris felt a sense of admiration, mingled with displeasure. He poured water from the ewer on the night-stand into a glass.

“That little girl, Lydia, is Jouslain’s pride and joy. There is no way Jouslain would agree to leave her behind as a hostage.”

“Precisely. That is the true purpose.”

Theodora brought a brandy snifter to her lips. A light that could only be described as cunning flickered in her eyes.

“To refuse to leave a hostage behind. Is that not in itself evidence of treasonous intent?”

“…”

“If he has nothing to hide, he will leave a hostage. To refuse would be proof of divided loyalties. Even if this logic is somewhat forceful, it should not be incorrect.”

“What manner of woman are you?…”

Idris could not suppress his tremors. Was he truly as lacking in the qualities of a conspirator as he believed himself to be? Doctor Lee might have remarked, “At the end of the day, he is merely a pampered boy from a good family.” However, what set him apart from his cousin Balamy was that he was bound by the traditional authority of Tytania more than by his own temperament. The notion of rebellion against the Clanner had never even appeared on his intellectual horizon.

“What guarantee is there that you will not betray me?”

Idris finally found a foothold for his counterattack when Theodora repeatedly urged him to accept her proposal.

“Rather, what guarantee is there that you have not come to test the loyalty of all the dukes, including myself, as an emissary of His Clanner Highness? For the record, there has not been a single second where I have truly believed in you.”

Idris used a tone that was pointedly threatening, yet Theodora showed no sign of being shaken, merely toying with her brandy glass in her hand.

“Duke Idris, you truly are a son of a noble house. You simply voice the very patterns of suspicion that cross your mind. And you tell them directly to the person involved.”

Theodora held the complete psychological advantage. Idris was being overwhelmed. He knew he was being overwhelmed. Furthermore, he was forced to recognise that the conspiracy presented by Theodora possessed an extremely powerful allure.

Layers of realisation besieged Idris, leaving him with an utterly bitter taste in his mouth. Given his usual tolerance, he should have been passed out by now, yet no matter how many cups he drained, no intoxication came. A single thought swirled endlessly through his mind: “At this rate, I shall never become the Clanner.” Theodora ceased her eloquent persuasion, watching with calm detachment as Idris sank deeper into the mire of ambition and calculation.

Would he accept infamy to become a conqueror? Or would he respect this so-called morality, only to emerge as a political loser, the sole object of pity and mockery from third parties? The latter was something Idris simply could not endure. As the burning fire of alcohol seared his stomach and surged into his brain, Idris continued his internal struggle amidst the flames. He was lagging behind Ariabert and Jouslain, particularly the latter. He wondered if it was possible to recover that lost ground through ordinary means.

And there was another problem. One that could not be ignored. Even if Ariabert and Jouslain were driven into the position of rebels, how would they deal with the fate thrust upon them? First, they would likely plead their innocence. If that were not accepted, would they simply stand together and hang themselves? Ridiculous; that was absolutely impossible. Neither Ariabert nor Jouslain were adherents of non-violent pacifism. Running away would only worsen their position and deplete their forces. If so, there would be only one path left for them to take: to resist with armed force. It would descend into civil war.

Should Ariabert and Jouslain resolve to rise in armed rebellion, Idris would, naturally, have to lead the campaign to suppress them. He did not fear this. Idris believed that he possessed both the courage and the military brilliance required. However, if he considered the matter dispassionately, what were his actual chances of victory?

Ariabert would command the combat forces, while Jouslain would use his political prowess to forge alliances with other factions and secure the rear. Should these two great leaders rise hand in hand, there would undoubtedly be those who rushed to their side to join their cause. Both within Tytania and beyond. But was it truly possible for Idris alone to withstand the fervent wave of rebellion that was surging throughout the entire universe?

“Fan Hyulick…”

The moment he uttered that name, the horizons of Idris’ thoughts and options expanded all at once. Fan Hyulick. The public enemy of Tytania, who had driven the brothers Zarlisch and Arses to their deaths. An exiled political prisoner. A terrorist with no place in the universe. And the man who had twice defeated the renowned commander, Duke Ariabert Tytania!

Regarding other matters, Fan Hyulick was nothing more than rubbish, but the final point was truly captivating to Idris. Once the restraints on his thoughts burst, Idris’ brain cells spun with a hint of recklessness, painting visions of the future in the air. He envisioned a plan to summon Fan Hyulick, pardon his crimes, and set him against Ariabert as a mercenary captain.

At least within his fantasies, Idris was not a miser. If that were to come to pass, he intended to grant a mere exile more than enough reward. A county, the title of fleet admiral of the Vardana Empire, an annual salary of five million dakar, and the hand of a daughter of Tytanian nobility. He could provide at least that much. If Fan Hyulick could suppress the “rebellion” of Ariabert and Jouslain, such a price would be a cheap one.

Once the rotation had begun, the increase in output was exponential. He had transgressed the greatest taboo within Tytania: that the Clanner was sacred and inviolable. And as he descended the slope, his schemes had become an end in themselves.

His thoughts turned this time toward his younger brother, Baron Radmoth.

Radmoth was useful. He was shallow-minded and brutish, but that was precisely why he was useful. He possessed utility. Everyone knew of Radmoth’s brutality. In other words, should anything happen, would it not be possible to shift the blame onto him?

Radmoth was Idris’ younger brother. Although his resentment had grown, he had never harboured active hatred or malice towards his brother. Despite clicking his tongue in frustration, he had always intended to support him. However, the younger brother had shown no sign of meeting his elder brother’s expectations. Perhaps the time had finally come to abandon him…

Idris did not notice that Theodora had left the bedside.

II

It is said that “conspiracy is the pastime of nobles”. Alternatively, it was described as “the weapon of the weak”. A person who embodied both propositions stood here. That person was His Imperial Majesty Harsha VI, Emperor of the Vardana Empire.

Even before his accession, Harsha VI had been under psychological pressure from Tytania. His late father, Harsha V, had made a very mild compromise with Tytania’s dominance, bequeathing a history of little consequence on both his own life and his nation. While he was not revered by the people, he was well-loved, and even more than ten years after his death, flowers were still laid upon his grave by the populace.

His son, Harsha VI, had not learnt from his father’s way of life. He believed that his father had flattered the treacherous Tytania Clan and had forgotten his honour as an emperor.

“The Tytania Clan was originally nothing more than subjects of the Vardana Empire. One day, I shall make those treacherous ministers learn their lesson, for they neglect their sovereign to play with hollow power.”

Harsha VI could not resign himself to being a powerless bystander. To accept his current circumstances was, to him, nothing less than defeat and humiliation. As far as he was concerned, power was “my house’s property, unjustly plundered by Tytania.”

Historically, for a sovereign disregarded by treacherous ministers, power was something to be reclaimed by one’s own hands; how that power might be utilised once obtained was hardly ever an issue. He never once imagined that, even if he were to reclaim it, such an act might instead bring about social chaos and ruin, ultimately bringing misery to the people.

Many disliked the rule of Tytania, yet none wished for the Vardana Empire to recover its former glory. Except perhaps Harsha VI. This was the fundamental flaw of those who claimed “legitimate kingship”: they failed to realise this. They deluded themselves into believing that what was merely a small measure of justice for their own cause was a universal justice for the entire universe, and they branded anyone who disagreed with them as disloyal subjects.

As for the recent resignation of Duke Ariabert Tytania, it brought no great joy to Harsha VI.

“At the very least, if Lord Idris is dispatched to Bargash as Lord Ariabert’s successor, he will be gone from the court. It is hardly a cause for celebration.”

When Empress Aisha expressed such an opinion, Harsha VI only directed a sombre gaze towards her.

“But even if we Idris leaves for distant Bargash, what happens if his successor turns out to be even worse than him?”

“Like Radmoth, for instance,” groaned Harsha VI. Idris’ younger brother, Radmoth, was eighteen years old this year, and even as a member of the main Tytania Clan line, the position of Minister of Military Affairs would undoubtedly be too heavy a burden for his shoulders. The conversation between the Emperor and Empress had been based on the rumour that Idris, currently holding the seat of Minister of Military Affairs of the Vardana Empire, would succeed Ariabert, but it was later revealed that this was not the case.

If Idris were to fail miserably on the battlefield, Harsha VI’s joy would be the greatest of his life. Furthermore, if the Tytania were to perish, his life would surely end in bliss.

However, his modest hopes were crushed within a few days. Another rumour arrived, which claimed that far from remaining at Uraniborg, Idris had become a leading candidate for the next Clanner.

Harsha VI’s optimism deflated like a cheap balloon. Should the day ever come when Idris becomes the Clanner of Tytania, peace would never again visit Harsha VI’s mind. “Someone, please help me. Save me from this purgatory,” he yearned, but in essence, he simply wished for someone to serve him. Empress Aisha, worried by her husband’s fragility, attempted to shut out the flood of irresponsible rumours flowing into the court; however, Harsha VI himself would not allow it, leaving the rumours to fly freely both inside and outside the palace.

In this manner, Ariabert’s resignation stirred great waves both inside and outside the stagnant Uraniborg, provoking countless mental activities ranging from conspiracies, calculations, speculations, and anxieties to philosophical self-questioning and historical contemplation. As a result, people had inadvertently forgotten that there was one individual who carried within her heavy demands and immense dissatisfaction.

It was on the 14^th of February that this person reappeared, with such force as if she might well kick down the door to Jouslain’s office, scattering shards of metallic fury throughout the room.

“What has become of my succession to the dukedom? I am Zarlisch’s mother. I do not remember ever being treated with such neglect!”

It was Jouslain who was truly the one being inconvenienced; it was not as if he were personally obstructing the demands of the Duchess Theresa Tytania. She should, instead, be lodging her protest with Clanner Ajman. Jouslain could not understand why she placed her expectations upon him, but a sudden thought occurred to him. Perhaps, while setting aside her unrestrained agitation, Theresa was actually coming to probe his true intentions?

Since he could not simply drive her away, Jouslain welcomed the Duchess into the drawing room and attended to her, sacrificing his precious time to do so.

“And so, Duchess, once you have secured your seat at the Council of the Five Families, what sort of political policy do you intend to demonstrate?”

“That is already decided. We shall capture that rogue in exile, a certain Fan I believe, and see him face the judgement of justice for the crime of shedding the noble blood of Tytania.”

“I see. And after that?”

It was a valid, yet spiteful, question. It was common knowledge to everyone, not just Jouslain, that Lady Theresa lacked imagination.

However, at the same time, her desire to exercise power had never been particularly intense; she should have been content with her luxurious private life, the reverence of others, and, in particular, her high expectations for the future of her second son, Arses. Though she had descended into madness upon the loss of her two sons and had never ceased to revile everyone around her, Jouslain had long found the idea that she had suddenly awakened to an ambition for power to be psychologically implausible.

Lady Theresa cried out.

“The rest can wait!”

Jouslain let out a sigh deep within his chest. His suspicions from recent days had been transformed into certainty. Someone had incited Lady Theresa.

Did they intend to send Lady Theresa to the Council of the Five Families to manipulate her as a puppet? Or was the purpose simply to throw the Council into chaos? In either case, there was someone attempting to use Lady Theresa for their own selfish ends. Jouslain felt it necessary to discover who that person was.

“Lady Theresa, I ask that you tell me: who is it that seeks to whisper sweet words in your ear and manipulate you?” is not what Jouslain said.

Asking such a blunt question would have achieved nothing more than effectively bolting Lady Theresa’s lips shut.

Instead, Jouslain guided Lady Theresa with great subtlety. He brought up the name of the late Arses. He mused that because Arses had been a devoted son, he must have been worried about his mother. If his mother were to become one of the Four Dukes, his soul might find peace, but he wondered if there was anyone who could assist Lady Theresa in place of Arses.

When asked, Theresa offered the name of Countess Theodora. Having exhausted every polite pleasantry and used all his skill to soothe her, Jouslain finally saw Lady Theresa on her way out. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his fingertips and muttered to himself:

“Theodora?! In a mere fifty or sixty days, she certainly stirred things up. The stagnant water is now a swirling vortex.”

Jouslain returned to his desk in his office and picked up his pen. His mind began to work feverishly.

“If Tytania is the sort of entity that could be destroyed by a single woman, then perhaps that is all she amounts to. Nevertheless, I cannot simply fold my arms and remain a bystander. Perhaps I should devise countermeasures.”

And so, he composed several personal letters.

III

On the 17^th of March, Jouslain, after much self-reflection, had finished laying out the initial measures to prepare for the impending situation.

Once he had confirmed that his measures had been carried out without being known to others, he was finally able to catch his breath and enjoy tea with Princess Lydia, who too had found relief from her tutor.

“What are your thoughts on your own country, Princess?”

“It is poor and lacks grandeur, but I think it is a good country.”

“I see. Tytania is quite the opposite. It is wealthy, prosperous, and powerful, but it is not a good country.”

Princess Lydia looked up at her guardian, her fork still piercing a strawberry tart.

“Then does that mean you are not a good person either, Lord Jouslain?”

“Indeed, I am not a good person, Princess.”

“I dislike that kind of thinking. I think it is quite unhealthy. I make it a point to believe that I am the best girl in the entire universe. A pity that my country is poor,” added the Princess, as she finished the strawberry tart and took a sip of honey tea. “If Lord Idris were to become the Clanner, I wonder if he might lend our country some money.”

Jouslain found himself smiling at the look of grave seriousness that had crossed Princess Lydia’s face.

“Shall we try asking Lord Idris, Princess?”

“This is no laughing matter. Even a small sum to Tytania is a fortune to the Kingdom of Elbing. ‘If only we had the funds,’ was my grandfather the King’s constant refrain.”

It was true that the Kingdom of Elbing was a poor and stagnant nation. The state treasury was at the mercy of the whims of Tytania, or more accurately, the whims of Jouslain himself. Jouslain could not help but think that power was indeed the ability to command the destinies of others.

To be a part of Tytania and to remain a part of Tytania. Jouslain contemplated his own state, acutely aware of the weight of that existence as a shackle from which he had yet to break free. In the first place, was departure even possible? Having resigned from his position as Commander-in-Chief, was Ariabert attempting to leave?

“I wish I could speak with Ariabert,” thought Jouslain from his very heart. Until just over a year ago, around the end of the year before last, he had not held Ariabert in particularly high regard. However, as Tytania shifted from a state of unshakeable peace towards confusion and stagnation, Jouslain’s estimation of Ariabert had been steadily rising.

Of course, by the standards of traditional Tytanian values, Ariabert was a defeated remnant who had abandoned his post after losing to the enemy. Yet, one had to wonder just how much meaning those Tytanian values truly held. By freeing oneself from them and distancing oneself from that palace built on thin ice, would the world truly unfold before Jouslain with greater brilliance?

“I wonder if Bal is doing well. Did my last letter reach him?”

Princess Lydia gazed at the empty cake plate with a certain sense of lingering regret.

Balamy must have felt a deep sense of frustration at being unable to be present at Uraniborg during this critical time. However, there was absolutely no need for him to be impatient. On the contrary, it would be better for him to keep his distance from this quagmire of chaos and corruption, and to exercise restraint as he prepared for the future. While thinking this, Jouslain also couldn’t help but feel that, if Balamy had been at Uraniborg right now, he could have entrusted Princess Lydia to his care.

One thing was certain. When this palace of vanity will finally break through the thin ice and sink, Princess Lydia must not be taken down with it. For this spirited and intelligent young girl was the one who deserved to claim a brilliant, unchained world as her own.

Even so, Tytania is gradually becoming nothing more than a den of monsters, Jouslain thought to himself.

For instance, was it conceivable that the Clanner himself might devise a plan to assassinate the dukes? As for his motive, it would be to ensure his still-young son inherits the Clanner’s throne. Ajman’s eldest son would reach the age to succeed him in twenty years, at which point Ajman himself would only be in his sixties, not yet declining from old age. It was only human nature to think that if one were to abdicate the supreme seat, it should go to one’s own flesh and blood. Yet, the question remained whether Ajman possessed such human sentiment.

Above all, Tytania existed within a massive inertia that stretched back into the past. By operating the organisation “as it always had” and “in accordance with precedent,” it had maintained its prosperity and power without significant incident. Ajman himself had not engaged in any particularly original actions since ascending to the position of Clanner. His resolute capacity for execution, his acerbic political manoeuvring, his fairness towards the subordinates, his diplomacy that balanced carrot and stick, and his equidistant stance toward the four dukes—all of these served to uphold the traditions of Tytania’s lineage.

Had time passed without further incident, Ajman would have eventually retired, and the supreme seat would have been abdicated to one of the four dukes. Or at least, that was how it should have been, but…

“Ah,” Princess Lydia exclaimed, leaning her face towards the transparent wall facing the corridor. Beyond that wall lay a vast atrium where Jouslain could see a single noblewoman passing along the beltway, accompanied by a lady-in-waiting. With his own eyes, he confirmed it was Countess Theodora Tytania.

Princess Lydia tilted her head slightly.

“That woman, no, that Lady…”

“Is something the matter with Countess Theodora, Princess?”

“I have seen that lady with a man before.”

At that time, Countess Theodora had been standing in a corner of the corridor, appearing quite wary of the gaze of others, exchanging low-voiced conversation with a man. As for that man…

“The most unpleasant person in all of Uraniborg.”

Princess Lydia effortlessly overturned Jouslain’s momentary assumption that it might be Lord Idris.

“It’s that big, unpleasant fellow. The one who fought with Bal. Errr…”

“Radmoth!?”

“Yes, Radmoth. The two of them were standing side by side, engaged in some conversation. I wasn’t eavesdropping, mind you. I simply happened to see them.”

Jouslain’s shock bypassed the middle ground of bewilderment and transformed directly into utter confusion. Even if Theodora was elegantly running wild in her efforts to gain allies, Radmoth was an unexpected name.

Regardless of what the future might hold, Radmoth possessed no political influence at present. He was immature, boorish, and thoughtless—in short, nothing more than a typical example of a spoiled child of the privileged class. What possible benefit could Theodora gain by making such a young man her ally? Furthermore, the fact that Princess Lydia had seen them together sat ill with Jouslain. Had they not displayed themselves intentionally? Had it been a truly important conversation, they would have conducted it in a bedroom or a drawing room, somewhere absolutely hidden from the eyes of others.

Suddenly, Jouslain felt a sense of loathing for Uraniborg itself. This was a wretched place. The anti-Tytania faction was not at all wrong to liken this to the Demon King’s fortress. And Jouslain himself was a kin of that very Demon King.

“Princess, shall we leave Uraniborg and go somewhere else?”

When Jouslain spoke, Princess Lydia nodded deeply.

“That would be nice. But where exactly would we be going?”

“Well, for the time being, how about somewhere like Bargash?”

“Is it an interesting place?”

“It might become interesting.”

Jouslain thought that it might even be an opportunity to take over the role of Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force in place of Ariabert. Regardless, he simply wanted to leave Uraniborg and breathe some fresh, pure air.

However, leaving Uraniborg would not bring an end to everything. In recommending Jouslain as Ariabert’s successor, Idris’ true intentions could not have been entirely transparent. He had made such a proposal precisely because there were circumstances that would work to his advantage. He wondered what kind of monster lurked behind that surface, breathing out its poisonous breath.

“Idris did not propose summoning Ariabert back to Uraniborg. Why was that? Was it because Ariabert’s return would mess with his schemes?”

Zarlisch was already dead, and Ariabert was recovering in the frontier. Thus, if Jouslain were to leave Uraniborg now, only Idris would remain by the Clanner’s side. He wondered if that was his intention, yet surely the Clanner was not a man to be manipulated by someone like Idris. Even if Jouslain were to alert the Clanner to this point, he would likely only be met with derisive laughter.

“As long as the Clanner remains well. But what if something were to happen to him…?”

A cold chill swept through Jouslain’s inner universe like a gust of wind. He had arrived at the worst possible conclusion.

Was it not possible that Idris intended to drive all his rivals from Uraniborg, assassinate Clanner Ajman, and ascend to the supreme position himself? Radmoth would be the one to carry out the assassination. And then Radmoth would then be killed on the spot without trial or even an inquiry, and the truth would be buried in darkness. Finally, Idris and Theodora would share power over Tytania. It was a plausible scheme. But…

“But would Idris really go that far? First, even if Idris were to harm the Clanner and usurp the throne, who would follow him?”

While Idris received appropriate respect as one of the four dukes, he lacked personal popularity. Furthermore, if he were to commit an act as heinous as regicide or usurpation, who would follow him? Moreover, if Ariabert and Jouslain were alive at that time, the people’s support would gather around them instead. If that were the case, then wherein lay Idris’ true intentions…? Jouslain fell into deep thought, failing to notice Princess Lydia’s gaze and leaving his tart untouched.

IV

Thus, on the 19^th of March, during the meeting of the Council of the Five Families, the two Dukes of Tytania, Jouslain and Idris, arrived at their final confrontation. With Zarlisch and Ariabert’s seats vacant, and the remaining two in discord. The ranks of the four Tytanian dukes stood in a state of undeniable desolation compared to a year prior.

On this day, a decision had to be made regarding the appointment of the new Commander-in-Chief of the Bargash Expeditionary Force to replace Ariabert. It was a matter of great importance, yet the decision took no more than five minutes. This was due to Clanner Ajman seeking Jouslain’s opinion and Jouslain providing him with answers.

The matter should have been settled then, but Idris made an unexpected proposal. He suggested that, for Jouslain to serve as Commander-in-Chief, his protégée Princess Lydia of the Kingdom of Elbing should be left as a hostage to serve as proof that he had no divided loyalty toward His Clanner Highness.

What on earth was Idris thinking?

At that moment, Jouslain failed to grasp his cousin’s true intention. Princess Lydia as a hostage? Did this man seriously doubt Jouslain’s loyalty? Or was this merely an attempt at harassment? But even if it were harassment, what purpose would it serve? What meaning could there be in such an act, especially when it risked incurring Jouslain’s resentment?

Danger breathed a cold breath against the nape of Jouslain’s neck. He realised that a single careless response could prove fatal. Masking his expression, he bowed to the Clanner.

“I am a loyal subject of Tytania. Should Your Clanner Highness issue an order, I shall merely obey your will.”

While uttering words of praise, Jouslain bit into the bitter taste of regret. A man who was not omniscient could not foresee such things. However, if Princess Lydia’s name was to be brought up in a place and at such a moment, he should have simply abided by Clanner Ajman’s ruling at the end of last year. The Clanner had recommended that Princess Lydia be returned to her homeland, as she was the cause of the dispute between Viscount Balamy and Baron Radmoth. Taking advantage of the fact that it had not been a strict command, Jouslain had refused the recommendation and kept Princess Lydia by his side, waiting for the situation to blow over.

The Clanner spoke. His tone was one that no one else could possibly imitate.

“Lord Jouslain’s sincerity is known to all. To demand a hostage of him is a narrow-minded act that would only serve to damage our mutual trust.”

Watching the blood rush to Idris’ cheeks, the Clanner continued:

“Furthermore, if Lord Jouslain harboured any treasonous intentions, he would abandon even parents or children if they were hostages to raise an army. In any case, hostages and oaths are utterly futile.”

It was an incredibly biting remark. While the colour did not return to Idris’ cheeks, his eyes flashed with a fierce light. Out of the corner of his eye, Jouslain quickly expressed his gratitude for the Clanner’s trust and magnanimity.

It was at this moment that Jouslain made his decision. He would use this situation to lead Princess Lydia away from this dark nest of conspiracy. If the Princess were to remain in this space city, there was no telling what treatment she might endure at the hands of Idris.

The Clanner appeared to delight in the hostility and resentment brewing between Jouslain and Idris. Was he contemplating which one of them he would discard? Or was he perhaps wishing for them both to fall? A sensation akin to a toothache throbbed within Jouslain’s mental field.

Unlike Neville, the founder of Tytania, Ajman lacked the habit of roaring with a face full of fury. Being glared at by him made Jouslain feel as though he were undergoing a prosecutor’s interrogation rather than facing the wrath of a despot. It had been that way since his boyhood. While it was true that this had forged Jouslain into a high noble of Tytania, it was only natural that he felt weary at the thought of such a situation persisting for another ten or twenty years.

It might be time for a change. If Ariabert’s easy surrender of military authority was to bring about a fluctuation in the status quo, then Jouslain decided he would ride that wave. Jouslain reached his conclusion. While the manifestation of his resolve might have seemed sudden, he, too, had been longing for a catalyst.

On the 20^th of March, Duke Jouslain Tytania formally received his official appointment from Clanner Ajman and was set to succeed Ariabert as the Commander-in-Chief of the Bargash Expeditionary Force. The departure from Uraniborg was scheduled for the 27^th of the same month. No one could have predicted with certainty what would unfold within that single week.

Chapter 6 – Breakup

I

The history of Tytania was no paragon of humanity or justice. Dark crimson pages of conspiracy, stratagem, murder, and destruction stretched on endlessly, such that anyone with a weak stomach would find it impossible to finish reading. Consequently, it was unlikely that the members of Tytania lacked immunity to intrigue; and yet, in SY 447, almost all of them were bewildered and lacking composure.

To put it another way, the reign of Clanner Ajman had appeared to be almost entirely stable and unshakeable until then. He was a man of advanced years, yet remained robust in both mind and body, and with the four dukes all in their twenties, the ruling structure led by the five current family representatives was generally regarded as something that would remain unchanged for at least the next quarter-century.

That certainty only began to falter upon the death of Duke Zarlisch Tytania, yet the Clanner and the three remaining dukes remained healthy. As long as someone emerged to fill Zarlisch’s seat, the existing structure should have continued without major incident. Rather, the system fell into dysfunction because the subconscious minds of those hoping for change began to surge together in a single direction.

However, that was a perspective that could only be grasped in hindsight; for those caught within the tide, even confirming one’s own footing was not an easy task. When Jouslain Tytania departed to lead a great army on campaign, he was not sent off to the raucous cheers of the masses.

The qualities required of a commander-in-chief leading a great army on a foreign campaign were not those of a combat genius. One had to manage a massive organisation, administer a multitude of people, grasp the individual personalities of mid-level field officers to ensure the right person was placed in the right role, mediate conflicting opinions, and unify the will of the troops toward a single objective. It was these qualities, more akin to those of a statesman, that were vital; and with regard to his broad vision, his sound sense of balance, or his commitment to fair personnel management, Jouslain inspired no anxiety in others.

At this time of year, Jouslain made no active effort to deny the rumours of a rift between himself and Idris. On the contrary, he sought to use them as a means of defence. His reasoning was that if everyone was aware of their political rivalry, even if Idris were to stage an incident and try to frame Jouslain for it, no one would readily believe it. Instead, people would likely assume that Idris had orchestrated some scheme to bring down a political opponent.

The crucial point was to spread the perception that Jouslain was the enemy of Idris alone. While this was a fact, making it common knowledge through propaganda held immense significance.

Naturally, such rumours reached the ears of Idris. Jouslain watched closely for how Idris might react, all while being preoccupied with the various administrative tasks immediately preceding his departure for the campaign; however, Idris showed no notable reaction. At first, Jouslain found this strange, but he would later look back on it with a wry smile:

“At that time, I couldn’t have grasped Idris’ true intentions. Because, in truth, Idris had no real intentions at all.”

It was certainly no exaggeration to say that, at that time, Idris had nothing but hesitations. While it appeared quite foolish to a third party from a later perspective, he had been psychologically cornered. As the surrounding situation reached its fruition, he found himself compelled to act.

First, he attempted to expel Jouslain from Uraniborg, and thanks to the personnel decision of Clanner Ajman and Jouslain’s own acceptance of it, it was achieved almost instantly. What, then, was left for Idris to do? While the ultimate goal was clear to Idris, he had not envisioned even a hundred percent of the process nor mastered every essential point; consequently, he found himself quite flustered as doors to hegemony opened before him one after another.

Whether his malice was directed at Jouslain or at the Clanner, it seemed likely he would succeed without much difficulty, but Idris was not so much of an optimist as to charge blindly forward. Rather, he appeared to maintain a defensive stance, as if intending to avoid providing any pretext until Jouslain actually departed for battle. Even so, he could not remain silent toward Jouslain, and he voiced a fierce objection to the announcement that Princess Lydia and Francia would accompany him on his campaign.

Jouslain responded without showing any sign of being unsettled.

“It is precisely because I have nothing to hide that I am allowing them to accompany me. If I had any ulterior motives, I would deliberately leave them behind to conceal them. His Clanner Highness should have already sanctioned this matter. Lord Idris, should we interpret your repeated objections as being directed at His Clanner Highness himself?”

In this regard, Jouslain was well-versed in Tytanian-style sophistry. It no longer mattered what Idris thought, but he felt the need to demonstrate to everyone else that there was sufficient justification for his actions. That was the very essence of politics—even if it could never truly be a high-level pursuit. Once the name of the Clanner was invoked, even Idris would find himself silenced.

How the silenced Idris would react was another matter entirely. Even if he himself did not explode, it seemed wise to keep a close watch on his brother, Radmoth. Jouslain ordered his guards to maintain strict vigilance, and he made no attempt to hide his intentions.

Regarding the finer details, Jouslain instructed both Princess Lydia and Francia to wear practical clothing, specifically requesting they wear trousers instead of skirts. He wanted them to be able to move instantly should anything happen. Jouslain himself, who had previously gone unarmed within Uraniborg, began to carry a handgun at his waist for self-defence. He chose a gunpowder-based pistol rather than a raygun or a charged particle gun because he valued the effect of the gunshot summoning in his guards.

Upon seeing Jouslain with a handgun at his side, one of the NCOs shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever could have caused things to come to this? Was the relationship between Duke Jouslain and Duke Idris truly that serious? It feels as though we are on the very brink of battle.”

Francia relayed this remark to Jouslain. As Jouslain lightly tapped the handgun hanging from the waist of his grey military uniform, he soothed his lady-in-waiting:

“What? Both Idris and I are merely amusing ourselves with games of conspiracy. Francia, you need not worry. It is just that playing can sometimes lead to serious accidents, and losing one’s life to an accident would be quite tedious.”

Jouslain spoke with a faint trace of self-derision in his eyes. While it could be considered foolish to contend for power that was still held in the hands of others, he could not remain indifferent when his own life and the lives of those around him were at stake. He never revealed the true extent of his anxieties to the Clanner. He had already realised that doing so would be utterly pointless.

Jouslain was to board the battleship Austra, accompanied by three cruisers, ten destroyers, three gunboats, one space carrier equipped with high-speed patrol boats, and two lightly armed supply ships. It was a small group, “less than a fleet”.

“No matter how forceful Idris may be, he can hardly claim that I intend to incite a rebellion with such paltry military strength.”

Jouslain expressed a rather spiteful opinion that was difficult to describe as noble. The reason they were venturing to Bargash with such a small force was because a massive Tytania presence was already deployed there, because the route to the area was almost entirely under Tytania’s “space control”, and because he sought to prove to the world that he held no dissenting intentions.

At least three superficial reasons could be counted, yet there were underlying circumstances as well. Jouslain had laid several pieces in motion, but he did not possess absolute confidence in how many of those opening moves would ultimately bear fruit. Furthermore, he had to remind himself that, in this world, there were such things as going too far.

Under normal circumstances, since Princess Lydia was aboard, any harm brought to this ship would become a diplomatic crisis. It would mean making an enemy of the Kingdom of Elbing. However, even if the Kingdom of Elbing were to burn with nationalistic hostility, it was unlikely that Idris would feel even the slightest pang of concern.

Tytania had once bankrupted numerous nations, driven heads of state into exile and despair, and relegated entire countries to the annals of history. A mere entity like the Kingdom of Elbing should not have been within his sights. At the same time, Jouslain could not rely on physical aid from the Kingdom of Elbing should an emergency arise, nor did he have any intention of doing so.

Jouslain could not imagine under which banners the various forces of the universe would congregate in thirty days’ time, nor in what manner they would clash. It felt as though such things were not subject to intellectual prediction but rather to mystical prophecy. The most absurd possibility, of course, was that after all this heightened tension, it might end with nothing happening at all…

When Jouslain first met the captain of the Austra, he could not hide his slight surprise. She was one of the few female captains remaining in the entire Tytania military, numbering less than one hundred. Her name was Edna Fredericks; she was twenty-seven years of age, held the rank of captain, and was a true elite officer who had completed the special cadet course at the military academy.

Even in a line of men, her height could be described as average, her black hair cut short, and her dark eyes shone with an intensity akin to coal in an old-fashioned furnace. One could have called her a beauty, but aside from the brilliance in her eyes, she was merely a rather ordinary one. Of course, physical appearance was not a prerequisite for a capable and reliable soldier.

“I have received orders to escort Your Grace Jouslain to Bargash, and I consider it the highest honour. Though I lack great talent, I shall strive to fulfil this great responsibility and repay your trust.”

“I am counting on you, Captain.”

Jouslain’s response was brief. He himself, aside from his eyes which bore witness to the presence of a pale and profound intelligence, was hardly a Tytania-like beauty. Their meeting held no particular promise of what the future might hold.

By the 25^th of March, Jouslain had ensured the safety of Princess Lydia and Francia by having them board the Austra. He did not board the vessel himself until the 27^th, but this measure satisfied many. “Given Duke Jouslain’s position, it is only natural,” people whispered among themselves. Jouslain himself knew that this was, in truth, a flagrant blurring of the lines between public duty and private interest, but of course, there was no need for him to declare as much.

II

When Jouslain was appointed to Bargash, the individual ordered to assist him as a civil official was Donald Farah. He was the pre-eminent election specialist in Tytania.

As an expert in election strategy, Donald Farah likely would have wanted to say, “I am not suited for such a task. I decline,” concerning a duty that did not utilise his specialised skills. He would also have wished to avoid being branded as a member of either Jouslain’s or Idris’ faction.

No matter who became the sovereign of Tytania, Farah could continue to live as a technocrat possessing specialised skills. He remained loyal to the Clanner of Tytania and to his own duties, and he was under no obligation to be asked for anything more.

However, for Lord Jouslain, Bargash was uncharted territory, and it was only natural that he desired to receive lectures from someone well-versed in local affairs before his arrival. Farah belonged not to Jouslain personally, but to the Commander-in-Chief appointed by the Clanner. Accordingly, his attitude as an exemplary Tytanian official was that someone of his low standing was permitted not even to offer opinions, let alone dissent, but to simply receive orders with utmost humility.

Therefore, having attended the office of Clanner Ajman, he had intended to offer his greetings regarding his appointment to the important task ahead and depart immediately. However, upon receiving his greetings, Ajman did not tell him to leave but instead brought up an entirely unexpected subject.

“As you must have noticed, Farah, things have become somewhat turbulent in Uraniborg lately.”

“To my humble eyes, it appears that Your Clanner Highness’ majesty fills every corner of the realm…”

The Clanner completely ignored Farah’s clumsy flattery.

“That is because there are no mighty enemies outside our borders. It allows us to indulge in our internal strife as much as we please. A storm in a teacup, as they say.”

Farah thought that Tytania was a cup so vast it could swallow the entire universe. But he did not say it aloud, choosing instead to maintain an air of pure trepidation. However, he could not remain entrenched in silence forever. The Clanner had explicitly named Jouslain and Idris, and asked Farah which of them he believed was the most worthy candidate for becoming the next Clanner.

“Y-yes, quite so. If Lord Jouslain and Lord Idris were to contend for the position of Clanner in accordance with the electoral system, I believe that, despite my lack of talent, I might be of service to either of them.”

“That sounds just like you, Farah.”

The Clanner laughed, and Farah felt a wave of relief spread through his entire body. While he held confidence in his own significance within Tytania, there was no way he could afford to displease the Clanner. He thought to himself that his desperate efforts to devise a clever answer had been worth it.

However, Clanner Ajman did not attempt to release the capable technocrat just yet. At that moment, the Clanner had also dismissed his secretaries and attendants to another room, leaving him alone with Farah. This was not a welcome development for Farah. The supreme sovereign of Tytania was a man who imposed considerable mental exhaustion upon anyone in his presence.

“And what of Lord Ariabert?”

It was yet another difficult question. Farah was at a loss.

“I believe him to be an unparalleled commander. His unfortunate injury was a great pity…”

“In the struggle for the Clanner’s throne, do you believe Lord Ariabert might form an alliance with Lord Idris?”

“T-that is something far too complex for a simple man like myself to grasp.”

“Unlikely. Lord Ariabert will ally with Lord Jouslain. If that happens, Lord Idris will have no hope of victory, barring some extraordinary circumstance.”

“…”

When Farah fell silent once more, unable to offer even a formal response, the Clanner closed his mouth as well. In his silence, the Clanner pressed upon Farah with the weight of a colossal statue. It did not last long.

“However, unless he fights, Lord Idris shall never attain the supreme throne. He has to fight.”

The Clanner’s gaze, cold and brimming with power, pierced through Farah.

“Farah, it is not the strife between kin that is to be abhorred. It is a peace born of complacency that must be loathed. Tytania may perish, but she must not rot.”

Farah felt as though an invisible block of ice were sliding down his oesophagus towards his stomach. A dark flash of suspicion crossed his mind that the current, sharply intensified conflict between the two dukes, Jouslain and Idris, might have been incited by this very Clanner.

“Those two shall never reconcile. Since only one can sit upon the supreme throne, a final clash is inevitable.”

The Clanner’s detached tone terrified Farah.

“And the victor shall rebuild Tytania, earning him the title of restorer of the dynasty.”

Farah felt his heart race and sensed his perspiration increasing. Within the perfectly controlled artificial climate, his senses seemed to have lost all ability to distinguish between heat and cold.

“B-but, if the two dukes go to war, our immediate enemies may take advantage of the situation. Groups such as the Blaze Flag Army…”

He managed to force the trembling words from his throat.

“I never expected the likes of Fan Hyulick or the Blaze Flag Army to be a match for us in the first place. Their raison d’être becomes manifest only when Tytania fractures from within. The universe only begins to move when we see which of the two Tytania factions they choose to support.”

The Clanner laughed again.

“Do you understand, Farah?”

“Y-yes, Your Clanner Highness…”

“Very well. In short, the initiative in history always remains within the grasp of our Tytania. Individual personalities and deliberations are irrelevant. It does not matter who wins, so long as that person bears the name Tytania.”

Even if Jouslain and Idris were to engage in a mutual slaughter involving other powers, it would make no difference. Thus said the Clanner. There was a coldness to his words that felt like frost settling upon one’s very nerves.

“To His Clanner Highness, is everyone merely a piece on a chessboard?…”

Farah shuddered slightly. He himself was not even regarded as a chess piece by the Clanner. It was precisely because of this that the Clanner spoke to Farah regarding matters of a highly confidential nature. While Farah was indeed treated with favour, in essence, he was nothing more than highly accomplished livestock.

Who was that Clanner from several generations ago, who acted the part of an ancient hegemon by declaring, “If one is not of Tytania, one is not a human”? That was the very essence of the Landless Clanner mentality within Tytania. In much the same way that an ordinary citizen might confide a secret to a pet, Clanner Ajman had revealed a fragment of his true intentions to Farah, to a low-standing person like Farah. Naturally, Farah did not find it pleasant. Yet, he was also someone who knew that he would never, under any circumstances, divulge this fact to another.

The 27^th of March arrived. It was the day of Duke Jouslain Tytania’s departure for campaign. It was only natural that the departure ceremony was a modest affair, lacking the splendour seen during Ariabert’s departure.

Idris stood to the rear left of Clanner Ajman, unable to hide an expression that looked as though he had been chewing on raw herbs as he listened to Jouslain’s address.

“I pray that Your Clanner Highness remains in the utmost health. I shall do my utmost to ensure I do not bring shame to this great mission, and I shall return to you.”

“Indeed. Let us both strive to remain hale and hearty, Lord Jouslain. Bargash is a long way off. Take great care of yourself in all things.”

The Clanner is the greatest master in the universe, thought Jouslain. He utters insincere words with such absolute dignity. Clearing his expression, he bowed reverently and turned on his heel.

As he made his way towards the boarding ramp of his flagship, the Austra, Jouslain could not help but wonder. He wondered which of them was more unfortunate: himself, the one departing, or Idris, the one remaining.

III

The battleship Austra was a massive vessel, constructed according to the standard design of a fleet flagship. It contained various facilities, such as VIP suites, which, from a purely military standpoint, served only to hinder functionality; naturally, the existence of such spaces was achieved at the expense of other equipment. Since defensive systems and firepower could not be sacrificed, the burden fell upon the supply departments, making the accompaniment of supply ships an absolute necessity.

In the case of Jouslain Tytania, he was not granted even a moment of respite in the luxurious VIP suite. Scarcely three hours had passed since departing Uraniborg and entering normal space when catastrophe arrived.

A cluster of light points appeared in the space towards Uraniborg, behind Jouslain’s small fleet, and began approaching rapidly. It was a formation of some two hundred vessels of varying sizes. When the distance between the two parties reached one light-second, a communication signal was transmitted from the Austra.

“This is the flagship of Duke Jouslain Tytania, Commander-in-Chief of the Bargash Expeditionary Force. For what reason are you tailing us?”

“Cease all movement and shut down your engines immediately. This is the order of His Grace Duke Idris.”

“What is the reason for this order to stop?”

Captain Edna Fredericks demanded coldly. The reply from the pursuers was overbearing and lacked any substance whatsoever.

“Top-secret orders. Shut down your engines at once.”

“By whose orders? This vessel is under the command of His Grace the Duke Jouslain Tytania, Commander-in-Chief of the Bargash Expeditionary Force. I have no reason to take orders from anyone other than His Grace.”

Edna haughtily rejected the unreasonable command. It seemed Jouslain had been blessed with luck that went far beyond mere fortune. Had the Captain been the type to obey Idris’ orders so easily, Jouslain’s future would have been sealed.

From a corner of the bridge, Jouslain watched Edna as she stood in the centre of the floor.

“I have yet to receive His Clanner Highness’ order to relieve Lord Jouslain of his duties as Commander-in-Chief. Nor have I received any official report stating that Lord Idris is to serve as His Clanner Highness’ full proxy. Therefore, it is only natural that my obedience be directed toward Lord Jouslain.”

At that point, the pursuers finally seemed to have abandoned the idea of peaceful negotiations. Two hundred vessels deployed into formation on either side, delivering their final ultimatum.

“Halt your ships immediately! Otherwise, we shall open fire.”

“Oh my, the heights of lawlessness. Tytania striking at Tytania?”

Edna gave a short, derisive laugh.

“Surrendering without resistance is not a Tytanian custom. It is only natural that those unreasoning, lawless interlopers who initiate combat should face the consequences. I understand you have steeled yourselves for this, but are you really fine with this?”

As the level of danger rose rapidly, Jouslain’s interest in Edna Fredericks grew. He wondered whether this black-haired female officer was merely pedantic or simply bellicose.

“The gun ports are opening…!”

It was less of a report from the operator and more of a scream. Above Edna’s sharp, dark eyes, her brows arched steeply.

“Do not open our gun ports yet. It is merely a show of force. If we fire first, we provide them with an excuse.”

Suppressing the rising agitation among the gunnery officers, she turned back to face Jouslain. The coal in her furnace seemed to stare directly at him.

“Your Grace Jouslain, should they attack us, may I have permission to return fire? If your will is that we remain without resistance, I shall proceed accordingly.”

“I authorise you to return fire.”

The response was immediate, for she trusted Edna’s instincts in combat command.

“Thank you. Chief Pilot, turn port, forty degrees!”

Edna’s voice was sharp and tense, yet she remained undaunted.

After granting permission to counterattack, Jouslain sat in silence at the fleet commander’s seat, his arms folded. He understood that in a situation such as this, it would be useless and even harmful for him, someone unversed in actual combat command, to issue orders. What he needed to do was to trust the highly skilled specialists in the field and refrain from interfering with their actions. However, there was just one thing he wished to ask the expert’s opinion on.

“Do you believe they intend to launch a serious attack, Captain?”

“I believe they appear prepared to go all out at any moment.”

That was Edna’s reply.

“However, their objective does not seem to be killing Your Grace Jouslain but rather detaining you. As long as that remains the case, we should hold the advantage.”

“So, you mean if it comes to it, you shall fire without hesitation?”

“Precisely. Since Your Grace Jouslain has given me permission to do so.”

The moment Edna spoke with such certainty that half of the screen glowed pale. The operator’s voice, reporting the firing, grew shrill. A thin band of light shimmered across the screen, and the emerging points of light expanded rapidly, enveloping the entire display in achromatic hues.

The energy beam struck the surface of the armour but failed to penetrate, scattering in an iridescent spray of light. It was clearly being controlled to prevent total destruction. This is truly worthy of the name “Phoney Combat”, thought Jouslain to himself.

Edna ordered the return fire, and the exchange of beams continued for forty minutes. Eventually, the pursuers resorted to deploying space mines ahead of Jouslain and his group’s flight path. For the first time, Jouslain issued instructions to Edna. Jouslain’s small fleet, centred around the Austra, sent a transmission to the pursuers. They declared that they would abandon all resistance and accompany them to Uraniborg.

… Three hours passed, and Idris, who had been waiting at Uraniborg with growing anxiety, was struck with shock upon receiving the report that Jouslain had achieved a complete escape. According to the commanders of the fleet dispatched to arrest Jouslain, they had been outmanoeuvred by an extremely unscrupulous stratagem.

A mutiny broke out aboard the Austra, as “Loyalists” detained both Lord Jouslain and the ship’s captain. Upon receiving the news, Commodore Nostitz, who had boarded via shuttle to receive the Duke with all due respect, was captured by Lord Jouslain’s waiting subordinates and taken hostage. Helpless to intervene, the remaining ships could do nothing but watch the Austra depart.

“Do you think you can simply let them escape, you incompetents!” screamed Idris.

His emotions fluctuated violently, ascending from the heights of ecstasy to the depths of despair like a broken lift.

An extraordinary sight ought to have been awaiting him. A scene where Jouslain was brought to trial as a criminal, to be judged by Idris, something that would have been unimaginable a mere month ago. However, that vision receded into the distance, leaving Idris to face the reality of failure.

Would the Clanner despise Idris as an incompetent? Idris gripped his military cap tightly but barely managed to restrain himself before slamming it against the floor. If he were deemed not only incompetent but also lacking in self-control, there would be no hope of gaining the Clanner’s trust. Clenching the cap in his hand, Idris glared around at the officers.

“Under no circumstances are you to let Lord Jouslain and Lord Ariabert regroup. Deploy troops along the planned route, and ensure that Lord Jouslain is arrested.”

“Yes!” the officers responded with salutes, yet their expressions were far from “satisfied”. They were bewildered by the command to arrest Lord Jouslain, and the instruction to do so without killing him felt half-hearted. Should Lord Jouslain launch a unilateral counterattack, they faced the very real possibility of meeting their deaths with their hands tied.

The Tytanian officers were loyal to authority and orders, yet the sheer strangeness and inconsistency of the command itself were enough to leave them bewildered. That Jouslain, having just been appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force and departed from Uraniborg, was now being denounced as an attempted assassin of the Clanner was not a circumstance that could be easily accepted. This suggested that Jouslain’s prior precautions had been effective. The officers could not help but suspect that some conspiracy lay hidden beneath the surface of these bizarre circumstances.

Idris went to the Clanner’s sickroom and, having no other choice, reported the situation. He and the Clanner were separated by a silk screen, which was studded with flecks of mica.

From beyond that screen, the voice of the Clanner, lying upon his bed, resonated heavily:

“If he escaped, it cannot be helped. Do not trouble yourself more than necessary and simply do as I say. It is your loyalty, Lord Idris, that I hold most dear.”

Idris felt relieved that he had not been met with a blast of criticism or a sharp reprimand. He ought to have scrutinised the Clanner’s words more closely. However, his relief had pushed suspicion aside, and he failed to realise that he had effectively become the Clanner’s mental slave and that the Clanner had stated as much explicitly.

Having managed to evade Idris’ pursuit for the time being, Jouslain moved away from Uraniborg, alternating between normal cruising and warp jumps. What should have been a magnificent voyage of conquest had, by now, become a journey of flight.

“I shall reschedule all scheduled warp jumps.”

Edna explained in a rhythmic tone. Every route leading to the planet Bargash was registered with the Tytania Navigation Centre. If they were caught in a concentrated barrage the very moment they warped back into normal space, they would be destroyed without even the opportunity to strike back.

“I leave it to you, Captain.”

Jouslain played his part as the idle superior, the type who simply said, “Do as you see fit.” He was already burdened with a vast array of concepts and plans that required his thought. He had no time to waste on the level of scheming that Idris was likely to initiate.

IV

Only a year ago, the power of Tytania had seemed absolute and immovable. However, power is, by its very nature, a palace built upon thin ice, possessing the inherent necessity of sinking under the weight of its own existence.

Eternal prosperity and permanent dominion are impossibilities when measured against the laws of the universe, yet humanity yearns for them. Successive rulers, obsessed with their own eternity and the permanence of their bloodline, purge meritorious officials, exile critics to remote outposts, burn books, and invade foreign lands in pursuit of glory. Perhaps it is this very desire for eternity that serves as the source of all political and systemic evil.

Even so, what exactly were the Clanner’s intentions?

Jouslain brooded so deeply that he felt a sharp pain at the very core of his mind. Whatever the Clanner intended, the execution seemed far too clumsy, and yet, even that might have been part of his plan.

“His Clanner Highness Ajman, the Landless Clanner of Tytania, has been wounded in a sniper attack. His life is not in immediate danger. The perpetrator was shot dead, and suspicions have arisen that Lord Jouslain was behind the attack.”

That confidential report, which sent shock-waves through the universe, raced unofficially through the Tytania communications network. Jouslain heard it as well.

“What a brilliantly crafted story.”

Jouslain could not help but give a wry smile. If Clanner Ajman had truly been assassinated, the impact would be too great. Having lost its core, Tytania would be torn into fragments, and dissidents from the outside might rise in unison, potentially causing the collapse of the Tytania administration. However, if it was merely an injury…

“The culprit is Lord Jouslain. Pursue him at once!”

Jouslain could easily imagine the expression on Idris’ face as he shouted this. Several of the obstacles standing between Idris and the throne had been removed almost in an instant. Idris must have been leaping with joy. It was certainly better to take this opportunity to oust both Ariabert and Jouslain from the competition at once, rather than pondering the true intentions of the Clanner or the full scope of the incident.

However, Idris should have gone even further than that. Instead of going through the trouble of arrests and interrogations, he should have simply blown up the ship along with everyone on board, without leaving room for argument. He could have made up any number of excuses later. Or perhaps he had intended to avoid the folly of murdering Jouslain only to have the responsibility thrust upon him.

For nearly two weeks, Jouslain’s modest fleet of twenty ships continued its flight, evading pursuit and interference from allies. It was on the tenth of April that the communications officer brought the news: “Reinforcements are coming!”

“Reinforcements!?”

Upon reflection, it was a strange way to put it. Jouslain was not fighting an external enemy. However, as the crew of the Austra, fleeing through space while evading pursuit by its “allies”, it was only natural that they would express it that way. For the people of Tytania, pursuing others was a familiar task, but being pursued and forced to flee imposed a heavy psychological burden. It was no wonder they rejoiced upon receiving the friendly communication.

Cheers erupted on the bridge. The uproar only finally subsided after Edna scolded them, warning, “Do not get carried away. What if this is a deception by enemy forces?” However, further communications were exchanged, confirming that a total of one thousand reinforcements, ranging from large to small vessels, had indeed arrived from Bargash.

Before long, a man in his early thirties appeared on the screen, wearing the grey Tytania uniform adorned with the epaulettes of a high-ranking officer. This officer, of medium height with a muscular build and sharp features, looked directly at Jouslain through the screen and offered a salute.

“I am Rear-admiral Zain Khan, arrived to welcome His Grace, the newly appointed Commander-in-Chief, by order of Lord Ariabert.”

The cheers erupted once more. Once they finally subsided, Jouslain expressed his gratitude for the effort taken to meet him. There was an officer beside Rear-admiral Khan who appeared remarkably young, and Jouslain found his attention half-drawn to them.

When that far too young officer boarded the shuttle and arrived at the Austra, it was Princess Lydia who ran towards him with great joy.

“Bal, have you been well?”

“Yes, Princess, thanks to your kindness.”

The officer, Viscount Balamy Tytania, bowed. He had intended to be respectful, but to Princess Lydia’s eyes, he appeared to be putting on airs. The Princess criticised her friend with a disgruntled expression.

“You have always been such a stiff, Bal. Since you have finally managed to meet a friend, you should show your joy more naturally.”

In this instance, “always” referred to about a year ago. As Jouslain began to laugh, Balamy was rescued from his embarrassment and once again celebrated Jouslain’s safety.

Just before leaving Uraniborg, Jouslain had put various plans into motion, and one of them had proven successful. He had sent a secret communication to Balamy, who was on planet Tyron, advising him to travel to planet Bargash.

Rumours had reached Uraniborg that Balamy harboured ill intentions towards Idris. It was certain that Idris would come to hate him, and if Balamy were to be arrested on Tyron, for Jouslain there would be no saving him. Balamy followed those instructions and managed to make his escape in haste. After changing ships several times, he arrived at Bargash to meet Ariabert, eventually boarding that fleet to come and rendezvous with Jouslain and the others.

“To be honest, I wavered. I wondered whether I should go to save Lord Jouslain or abandon him to side with His Clanner Highness.”

“Were you planning to abandon me as well?”

Princess Lydia asked with a solemn expression. Her question pierced through Balamy’s attempt to hide behind a mask of feigned malice, leaving him with nothing to do but laugh. After all, he was the faithful knight of the young princess.

“No, I could not do that, which is why I rushed here like this. Since I have acted without receiving orders from Uraniborg, I can no longer permit myself to hesitate.”

In truth, three days after Balamy had departed Tyron on the passenger ship, an order had been sent from Uraniborg to Tyron, commanding that Balamy be taken into custody. It had been a matter of a split second.

“It seems His Grace Jouslain’s prophecy regarding future events has come true, then.”

“It was nothing special. I merely considered several possibilities.”

Jouslain shook his head slightly with a wry smile.

“When you stay in Uraniborg, you find yourself thinking about nothing but such things. That place is, after all, the Demon King’s castle.”

“I believe it is the very source of the authority that governs the universe.”

When Balamy voiced his objection with a somewhat naive air, Jouslain merely shrugged his shoulders.

“That authority is not the breath of God but the miasma of the Demon King. It is only because I reside in Uraniborg that I am able to perceive that.”

Balamy fell silent. He could not determine whether Jouslain’s remark was a profound truth or a mere joke, and if it were a joke, he knew he ought to respond with a witty retort of his own. The very fact that he was agonising over such a choice seemed to testify to the truth that Balamy was a young man who had always been far removed from humour or wit.

Regardless, Balamy had, for the time being, chosen to acquiesce to Jouslain. “But that doesn’t mean I intend to share life and death with Jouslain,” he tried to convince himself.

Princess Lydia would have laughed had she heard it, but Balamy harboured ambitions of becoming a villainous hero in an age of chaos. And it appeared that such an age was rapidly approaching. He asked Jouslain a question:

“How were you able to foresee today’s events? Would you care to tell me?”

A serious light shone in Balamy’s eyes. He sensed there was something to be learned from Jouslain’s way of thinking.

Jouslain replied, as if imparting a lesson:

“If he were to act while I was at Uraniborg, there was a risk I would thwart it. I had no intentions of letting such a conspiracy succeed without a struggle. The only logical timing would be immediately after my departure from Uraniborg.”

By doing so, Jouslain’s departure could be summarily branded as an escape and dealt with accordingly. It was exactly the sort of calculation Idris would have made. However, one could also say that the half-hearted, incomplete nature of such an “execution” was characteristically Idris.

“So, did Lord Idris not place much weight on Lord Ariabert?”

“Perhaps Idris thought that once I was dead, it would not be difficult to strike down an isolated Ariabert. Though in truth, it would be quite a difficult feat.”

Jouslain laughed sarcastically. Balamy tilted his head slightly.

“Even so, regardless of Lord Idris, it seems His Clanner Highness’ reaction was rather slow.”

“I am most grateful for it.”

Jouslain did not mean those words. Rather, it felt eerie. It seemed as though the Clanner’s delayed responses to each of Jouslain’s actions were all part of a calculated plan. Surely the Clanner must have known that only by uniting Ariabert and Jouslain could Tytania be shaken. If the Clanner had truly intended to move against the annihilation of the various dukes, Jouslain would have been arrested long ago, and Ariabert would have been left isolated on the frontier. Furthermore, the great army under Idris’ command would have already been marching towards Bargash. That was not what happened. The true intentions of the Clanner were truly impossible to fathom.

15^th of April, SY 447. Amidst the suspicion, anxiety, and unrest that gripped the cosmos, Duke Jouslain Tytania arrived on planet Bargash. Prior to this, his authority as Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force had already been suspended in the name of Clanner Ajman.

Chapter 7 – The Great Schism

I

On the 15^th of April at 18:00, the two Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain finally reunited. While this was intended to be a private affair, it resulted in something of historical significance. Amidst the shocking event known as the “Great Schism” of the Tytania Clan, the two titans of the rebellion against Clanner Ajman ended up holding a meeting.

“Let those two meet in Bargash. You can be certain they’ll be plotting something.”

It was Idris who had shouted those words, but regardless of his true intentions, he ended up seeing his prophecy fulfilled. Although Ariabert and Jouslain had not met specifically to conspire, it was never likely that their meeting would consist of nothing more than idle chatter.

Leaving Princess Lydia and the others on the flagship, Jouslain headed directly from the central spaceport to the hospital where Ariabert lay, accompanied only by Balamy. Jouslain had heard that Ariabert’s recovery was progressing well and that he would be discharged safely within April.

After leaving Balamy to wait in the lobby, Jouslain entered the patient’s room alone. The doctor limited the visiting time to one hour before withdrawing to the adjacent room, allowing the two dukes to exchange greetings after their long absence. One sat propped up halfway in bed, while the other took a seat in an armless chair.

“I was relieved to hear that your recovery is going smoothly. How is the situation in Bargash?”

“It is what one might call a false peace. Fan Hyulick and the others are quiet. I suppose they are simply enjoying their afternoon naps.”

“When they awaken from those peaceful dreams, they will surely be bewildered. The more robust their strategic plans, the more bewildered they shall be.”

Tytania ruled the cosmos. Meanwhile, the modest forces led by Fan Hyulick stood in defiance. The framework that everyone had envisioned collapsed within these few dozen days, and Fan Hyulick’s victory beneath the sea remained buried within the strata of history, unknown to many. Now, hundreds of billions of sensory organs focused their attention on every single movement of the two dukes.

As far as Ariabert was concerned, it was a fact that he had failed to subjugate Fan Hyulick’s faction, and he had to take responsibility in some form. It was also true that he had sustained severe injuries that would take three months to fully heal, and his health was far too poor to wield his dictatorial powers in Bargash. Furthermore, it was certain that Idris would pursue him to demand accountability. Since he was unable to return to Uraniborg to offer lengthy explanations, Ariabert had no choice but to resign.

From that point on, the rapid escalation of events exceeded even Ariabert’s predictions; however, rather than a lack of foresight on his part, it would be more accurate to say that the situation itself had become irrational. Everything was accelerating. Or perhaps Clanner Ajman, himself cornered, had been forced into a sudden decision—provided the Clanner was indeed the true mastermind.

“There is nothing to be done about the defeat. It was my own blunder, for I temporarily lost sight of the bigger picture and grew too impatient to restore my personal honour.”

These were the terms in which Ariabert described his defeat.

“Even if I were to remain in the position of Commander-in-Chief, I would eventually find myself defeated by Fan Hyulick once more. I simply felt the need to take a step back and view the situation from a broader perspective…”

Ariabert cast his gaze toward his bedside. A vase overflowed with carnations in blue, white, and red. In the background, the sky was visible through the window, deepening into twilight with each passing moment, as the light of the fixed stars retreated and the points of light from other stars increased in both number and intensity.

“Tytania is an invisible rope. She binds not only our bodies but our hearts as well. I found myself wondering if it might be possible to break free from her.”

The shackles of Tytania weighed heavily even upon the dukes, who enjoyed privileges by virtue of the veneration they received from others. Though they had been raised under the values that ran through the very history of Tytania and were ostensibly adults, there were times when they were struck with horror by the reflection of themselves in the eyes of others. Once doubt took root, they could no longer remain content in their noble ignorance.

As a result, it might be said that Ariabert had struck first against the Clanner. Yet, whether that was something for Ariabert to rejoice in, Jouslain could not be certain. He did not believe that the Clanner, having been outmanoeuvred, would have accepted such a state of affairs with grace.

“It was perhaps for the best that you were injured, Lord Ariabert. It saved you from being summoned to Uraniborg.”

“In exchange, I was dragged into your troubles, Lord Jouslain. It was quite a nuisance.”

Ariabert uttered a rather clumsy joke. It was not merely Balamy who was an exception; generally speaking, the Tytania nobility lacked a great talent for wit.

“That is why I wished to hear the truth from you, Lord Jouslain. What on earth happened?”

In response to the natural question, Jouslain readjusted himself in his chair and began to recount the circumstances at Uraniborg following Ariabert’s resignation.

Rebellions of a suppressible scale were beneficial for strengthening a ruling regime. This had been a political law since the era of ancient city-states, and there were numerous instances where powerful figures had even been driven into rebellion for that very purpose. Was the current incident one such example? While harbouring such thoughts, Jouslain nonetheless stated his position to Ariabert:

“Just to be clear, I had absolutely no involvement in this so-called attempted assassination of His Clanner Highness. In fact, I even doubt that the incident ever took place. As far as the actual facts go, all that exists is the official announcement made by Lord Idris.”

Although Jouslain did not explicitly say that he distrusted Idris’ words, his meaning was perfectly understood. Ariabert attempted to summarise the situation.

“So Lord Jouslain, are you saying that Lord Idris set a trap for you?”

“No, I cannot say that for certain. I cannot say whether Lord Idris framed me or if he was merely an accomplice or an accessory.”

“…”

“Personally, I suspect it was the latter. Lord Idris will likely take offence, but no matter how many conspiracies he weaves on his own, I do not believe His Clanner Highness would ever be led astray by them.”

It was a harsh assessment, but few would have disagreed. Ariabert gave a nod of affirmation, picked up a fragment of a note left by the bedside, and read it aloud in a low voice.

“His Clanner Highness was targeted and wounded, though his life is not in danger. The perpetrator was shot dead on the spot, and Lord Jouslain’s name remains associated with the crime as the one who ordered it.”

Ariabert allowed himself a small smile.

“It is a most convenient tale. Should His Clanner Highness pass away, regardless of the truth, the masses would drift away from Idris. At this moment, it is Idris who needs His Clanner Highness the most in the entire universe.”

Jouslain noticed that Ariabert had removed the title of “Lord” from Idris’ name, but he made no mention of it.

As the conversation shifted to the circumstances of his departure from Uraniborg and turned to the female captain of the Austra, Ariabert interjected:

“Edna is a highly skilled captain.”

Under Jouslain’s gaze, Ariabert realised that he had addressed Captain Edna Fredericks by her given name. Ariabert looked back at Jouslain’s face and admitted it dispassionately: he had been involved with Edna romantically.

This was the first instance in which Jouslain had become aware of one of Ariabert’s romantic entanglements. Ariabert was not the type of man to flaunt his many affairs as if they were medals of honour.

“Surely, Lord Ariabert, you were not attracted to her solely for her prowess as a captain?”

“Of course, she wasn’t a captain when we first met. It was ten years ago now.”

Judging by conversations such as this, Ariabert appeared to be a man whose sense of humour was perhaps even more clumsy than Balamy’s.

“Are you currently broken up?”

“We didn’t break up explicitly. She has her military duties and her own life, and we simply drifted apart over time.”

Ariabert shook his head and offered a smile, but a faint shadow crossed his handsome features. When Jouslain remained silent, Ariabert added:

“Besides, she is not the sort of woman who would be swayed by Tytania’s authority. I had no intention of using my position to bind her. That is the gist of it.”

Nodding, Jouslain changed the subject. The appointment of Edna Fredericks as the captain of Jouslain’s flagship. She was one who refused to obey orders she didn’t agree with and resolutely carried out her initial assignment as the one in charge of Jouslain’s flagship. Jouslain could not help but dwell on it. He wondered if someone had calculated this move.

Since their opponent was none other than Clanner Ajman, he could not afford to ignore even the slightest flickering of a shadow. However, for the time being, Jouslain felt he should present the facts to Ariabert rather than his suspicions.

“In any case, much to my regret, I have been accused of the capital crime of attempted assassination of the Clanner. Naturally, as this is a false charge, I have no intention of submitting easily. I intend to fight to protect my own life, honour, and rights. Regardless of who my opponent may be.”

Jouslain made his declaration very quietly, then finished his explanation.

II

“You intend to fight His Clanner Highness…!?”

Ariabert’s voice trembled with dread. He was not a coward. No one within Tytania could cast such a slur upon him. Conversely, it meant that Clanner Ajman was the only person in the entire universe capable of striking such terror into Ariabert’s heart.

Jouslain gave a slight wave of his hand.

“Though I said ‘fight’, I don’t imply anything particularly heroic. I am no enlightened saint, so I shall simply struggle. That is all. However, since I refused to entrust my life to Lord Idris back then, it seems I have no choice but to keep struggling until my final breath.”

“It might be worth trying to explain yourself. Whether the other party accepts it is their concern. Ordinarily, I should be the one endeavouring to mediate, but given the current state of affairs…”

At that point, the doctor declared the need for examination and rest, and Jouslain left the infirmary for the time being.

Their second meeting took place after both had finished dinner, by which time night had already fully fallen.

“But why would the Clanner choose Idris as his successor? I cannot fathom it.”

Ariabert furrowed his well-shaped brows and muttered, almost as if to himself:

“Lord Jouslain, if you were to become the successor, I would have no objection. And even if it were Idris, I suppose it could not be helped. However, while I might obey, it would be difficult for me to truly accept it.”

“That is only natural.”

If one were to invert Ariabert’s psychology, it would reveal Jouslain’s. Idris was younger than both of them and inferior in both achievement and popularity. The Clanner must have been aware of this. Or perhaps, precisely because he was aware of it, he was attempting to bolster Idris’ power in order to balance the influence of the three dukes.

“Perhaps he has been considering this for decades.”

Jouslain entertained the speculation, yet he sought to avoid delving too deeply into the matter.

“However, it would be best to refrain for now. To pry into His Clanner Highness’ inner thoughts and fight within that labyrinth. We should merely respond to His Highness’ actions in a way that protects our own lives and pride.”

At that moment, Jouslain presented one of the most significant questions.

“Lord Ariabert, your subordinates surely swear their loyalty to you, do they not?”

“If the opponent were Idris, almost all of them would follow. But if the opponent becomes the Clanner, even half of them would be doubtful.”

“… That is precisely the problem,” murmured Jouslain, and Ariabert, in silence, tugged at the hem of his pyjamas.

Idris could not emerge victorious in the struggle for supremacy through his own strength alone. It was only by having the authority of the Clanner at his back that he could possibly oppose Ariabert and Jouslain.

Reflecting on this, Jouslain realised that he had been moving too hastily.

“In any event, Lord Ariabert, even if I were to go to war against the Clanner and Lord Idris, it pains me to involve you. I cannot allow myself to become a prisoner here, so I intend to depart from Bargash within the coming days.”

“A bit late for that, isn’t it?”

Ariabert gave a short laugh. His injuries had healed enough that he could laugh aloud.

“The situation where I could remain neutral is long a thing of the past. Lord Jouslain, I too have no choice but to fight alongside you. Or rather…”

Raising a hand, Ariabert silenced Jouslain’s opening remark.

“Lord Jouslain, it is not your responsibility. I was the one who clashed with Idris. There is no turning back now.”

… A full week before Jouslain had arrived at Bargash, Ariabert had received orders from Uraniborg to place him in detention as soon as Jouslain’s arrival was confirmed.

“I shall inform His Clanner Highness!”

Ariabert raised his voice toward the communication screen that had been brought into the sickroom.

“There are far too many questions regarding this matter from the very beginning. It is impossible that Lord Jouslain would attempt to harm His Clanner Highness. First, I request that you grant him a fair opportunity to defend himself.”

However, the figure that appeared on the grainy display of the communication screen was not the Clanner, but Idris. Ariabert demanded a direct meeting with the Clanner, but Idris brushed him off with disdain.

“It is impossible for His Clanner Highness to meet with you. His Highness is, unfortunately, confined to his bed after being attacked by a band of lawless rioters. It is only natural that Lord Jouslain, who directed the violent acts of those rioters, should be held accountable.”

“That is exactly why I am demanding you produce evidence. To defame Lord Jouslain, one of the four dukes, as an instigator of assassination without physical proof, and to plot his arrest, is that not an act that disregards both honour and human rights?”

“If he has something to say, he would do well to speak it in the presence of the Clanner. Provided he has nothing to hide, that is. To abandon his own opportunity to defend himself and flee is tantamount to an admission of guilt. Lord Ariabert, should he attempt to evade justice by remaining in Bargash, I shall be forced to use force to hold you accountable for harbouring a criminal. I trust you are prepared for that.”

“I suggest you moderate your braggadocio. Do you truly intend to compete with me, Ariabert, on the matter of military prowess?”

“How amusing. You are the one boasting. A defeated general, beaten not once but twice by a mere wandering bandit like Fan Hyulick, dares to lecture me on the use of troops?!”

Idris sneered. The conversation between the two dukes, which had been clashing like blades, ground to a halt. It took a span of time equivalent to light travelling three million kilometres before Ariabert opened his mouth once more.

“… You are not the one I lost to, Idris.”

Ariabert’s voice was low, yet it pierced through Idris with sharp precision.

“If you truly possess a talent for stratagems that surpasses that of Fan Hyulick, then prove it with facts. Bring forth an unprecedented, massive army and march upon me. I shall see you returned to Uraniborg, laid to rest in a gilded coffin, just as it is fitting for you!”

It must have been the most fervent oration of Ariabert’s life. A great volume of blood surged through the vessels in Idris’ face, and the cartilage in his throat bobbed.

Once he finally steadied his breathing, Idris forced a voice that was little more than a groan through the corner of his lips.

“I shall take that as a declaration of war, then, Lord Ariabert.”

“How else could you possibly interpret it? Don’t act so high and mighty, you idiot!”

The final words were delivered with an intensely provocative tone, lending a spark of spirited vitality to Ariabert’s face, which had often been described as lacking character. Idris’ eyes grew bloodshot. The capillaries had burst.

“Just you wait. I’ll kill you!”

Following that blunt outburst, the transmission was severed, and the screen of the interstellar communication terminal faded to a cloudy white…

“… And that is how it stands. Even if the Clanner were to forgive me, Idris never would. He would undoubtedly set out to kill me in earnest. It means I am left with no other choice.”

Exasperated, Jouslain gazed at his cousin of the same age.

“Lord Ariabert, I had no idea you possessed such a childish temperament. I thought of you as a much more mild-mannered and sensible man.”

“I thought so too. However, it seems I had only deceived myself. Perhaps I merely wished to become that but failed to truly become it.”

Ariabert’s reminiscence reached back into the past. A past shared by them both. Jouslain remained silent. He found himself unable to offer even a verbal response.

“Lord Jouslain, do you hate my mother?”

It was a question he had anticipated, yet he could manage no more than a simple, “No.” Ariabert appeared to have expected that very reaction. For he did not press him with a question like, “Are you certain?”

“It is only natural that I should be hated. But when I was a child, my mother said to me: ‘Never allow yourself to be hated by others, it is enough that you hate yourself’.”

Ariabert cast his gaze toward a corner of the ceiling.

“Then again, even from the perspective of her own son, my mother was a shrewd woman, so that might have been a kind of act as well. Well, regardless, it is in the past now. Since things have reached a breaking point, it would be best to focus on what lies ahead.”

Jouslain nodded in silence. He understood. He understood that when the interstellar communication from Idris was severed, Ariabert had severed a part of the mental wiring that had stretched back from the past.

III

Jouslain found and rented out an entire mid-sized hotel located a three-minute walk from the hospital where Ariabert was receiving treatment, using it as both his headquarters and quarters.

The hotel, named “Hotel Avion”, stood ten storeys high. The headquarters functions were situated on the first through sixth floors, with a guard post on the seventh, the quarters for the staff officers on the eighth, and Jouslain’s own residence occupying the ninth and tenth floors. Balamy’s private room was located on the ninth floor, while the private rooms for Lydia and Francia were on the tenth. Jouslain’s office was on the sixth floor, his salon on the ninth, and his bedroom on the tenth.

Having been entrusted with them by Jouslain, Balamy had carried out these specific arrangements. Reappointed as senior aide-de-camp by Jouslain, he was regarded by outsiders as Jouslain’s confidant, and he was proving himself through his actions worthy of that title.

There was one other person who believed Balamy to be a confidant, and he had to fulfil a role for that person as well. Upon seeing that individual, Princess Lydia of the Kingdom of Elbing, looking somewhat lost, he spoke to her:

“Do you wish to see your grandfather, Princess?”

Princess Lydia did not answer immediately. She gazed through the window at the landscape on the ground, which she was seeing for the first time in nearly a year, and replied while still looking down at the ordinary courtyard with its fountain.

“It would be difficult to return without some sort of souvenir. One who belongs to royalty must bring benefit to the nation. Since I am not yet capable of that, I cannot return just yet.”

She must have been longing for her homeland. That Balamy had surmised the Princess’ true feelings in such a way might have been an indication that his powers of intuition were maturing.

Princess Lydia turned to face Balamy and asked him another question, her expression tinged with worry:

“Will it come to a point where the Tytania army attacks the Kingdom of Elbing, Bal?”

“No, I believe you need not worry about that.”

Balamy stated it with certainty. He felt for Princess Lydia, but the Kingdom of Elbing was simply not within Tytania’s concerns. Whether they remained neutral or sided with either the Clanner’s faction or the anti-Clanner’s faction, it would be like a weakened mosquito landing on the surface of one’s skin; it would cause no real irritation or pain.

As he pondered upon this, Balamy realised yet one possibility. The matter belonged more to the realm of political manoeuvring than strategy. To show those who sided with the anti-Clanner faction what consequences awaited them, “Uraniborg” might attack the Kingdom of Elbing, potentially destroying entirely this impoverished and powerless stellar nation. That Balamy felt Lord Idris was capable of such an act could not be called a fair assessment; rather, it was a malicious prejudice.

That prejudice had a significant influence on the course Balamy chose to set. With Jouslain departing Uraniborg and Idris set to wield power as the Clanner’s deputy, Balamy found himself in a precarious position. At the very least, staying under Jouslain’s command should have ensured a brighter future for him. Furthermore, he felt needed here, and it allowed him to remain far removed from the sense of alienation and isolation he had experienced during his time on the planet Tyron. In many respects, it should have been the right choice.

“The next time I return to Uraniborg, I shall do so as one of the victors,” he resolved in his heart, yet he was far from possessing perfect confidence.

It struck him with a fresh shiver that, should matters continue to unfold in this manner, he would find himself fighting Clanner Ajman. The Clanner was the very symbol of Tytania’s power and an object of infinite awe. Even with the alliance of Ariabert and Jouslain, he wondered if they could truly hope to defeat him.

Nevertheless, he set aside his inner anxieties for the moment. As a knight, he had to hold his head high in the presence of the princess.

“Princess, let us go to the tea lounge. I hear this hotel has forty different kinds of fruit pie. We shall certainly not lack for treats for the time being.”

He had become quite fond of pastries.

Now, although Jouslain had been suspended from his authority as Commander-in-Chief, he had not been formally dismissed. Had he been dismissed, under whose command would the Tytania forces stationed in Bargash have operated? Would Ariabert return to his post? However, Ariabert had already welcomed Jouslain, ignoring the notification from Uraniborg. If Ariabert were to join Jouslain in refusing to submit to Uraniborg, both would be branded as rebels and sought for destruction by the Tytania heartland.

A civil war between Tytania and Tytania.

It was a situation powerful enough to shock the entire universe. Until then, human history had been recorded in terms of “Tytania versus non-Tytania”. Struggles and conflicts had always been depicted through the framework of “Tytania versus anti-Tytania”. That traditional pattern had now been shattered. Many people found themselves unable to decide or judge how to deal with this new paradigm, which was unfolding beyond the bounds of their imagination.

Planet Bargash remained under the occupation of the Tytanian military. Or should it be said that it had instead passed under the control of the anti-Tytania forces? The people of Bargash were forced into an unexpected state of confusion when trying to describe the situation.

“If Lord Ariabert has indeed defected from the service of the Clanner, then there is no legal basis to continue the garrisoning of Bargash. We ought to demand their withdrawal.”

That was an opinion shared by some, but it lacked sufficient realism and failed to garner widespread support.

“This has become quite a bizarre situation. Which side should our government side with? Or shall we remain neutral?”

“Regardless, if things continue as they are, Bargash may face a full-scale assault from the Tytania forces, effectively turning it into a stronghold for the rebels.”

“Good heavens, how did it ever come to this?”

The councillors and officials of Bargash gathered to deliberate. Though they intended to speak in whispers, their voices grew loud in the heat of excitement.

“Might we take this opportunity to side with the AJ Alliance and strike a blow against the long-standing Tytania regime…?”

While the “AJ Alliance” certainly took its name from the initials of Ariabert and Jouslain, they had also been unilaterally bestowed with other names that were hardly poetic, such as the “Two Dukes’ Compact” or the “Anti-Clanner Faction”. Perhaps the name “Anti-Idris Faction” would have been the most apt, yet strangely, no one ever uttered it.

“Clanner Ajman remains in full health. Even if the AJ Alliance rebels, their chances of victory are slim. Wouldn’t it be better to establish ties with the Clanner and exclude the AJ Alliance, thereby coexisting with a new Tytania administration?”

“Do you truly think it would be that simple? If the AJ Alliance were eliminated, the Clanner’s power would grow even more formidable, and his attitude towards Bargash would become even more overbearing.”

“Indeed, why should we lend our cooperation to the Clanner? Regardless of whether Tytania’s Clanner faction or the AJ Alliance emerges victorious, the best course of action would be to maintain a position of neutral non-interference.”

“Mere observation is too timid. We ought to intervene skilfully and aim to bring about the mutual destruction of both sides. This would be the perfect opportunity to collapse the Tytania ruling system.”

“Preposterous. We must avoid intervening as if this were some mere game. Do not forget that Tytania is, by nature, a clan with strong unity. If we meddle carelessly and cause them to be reminded of their blood ties, it will only lead to trouble. Serious trouble.”

It seemed as though almost every inhabitant of Bargash had become a critic regarding Tytania’s political and military strategies. An unusual excitement had taken hold of them.

The rule of the Tytania Clan had appeared as powerful, stable, and unmoving as a mature star. Now, however, it was trembling violently, and any error might lead to its total collapse. Such turning points in history were more intoxicating to people than any drug.

“After all, Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain possess a great fleet of twenty thousand vessels. They are the strongest armed force in the universe. Does Uraniborg possess the talent capable of countering them?”

“But that is the Tytania military, not Lord Ariabert’s private army. If the Clanner were to clearly declare them public enemies, how many of those twenty thousand ships would actually follow Lord Ariabert?”

“And the rest would turn their spears against him? Yet, Lord Ariabert commands the deep devotion of his officers and men.”

“The awe felt toward the Clanner is likely much deeper.”

“The Clanner, huh? He truly is a monster.”

“What on earth was that man thinking?”

At this point, people fell silent. They were exhausted, and whenever the sculpted features of Clanner Ajman drifted into their minds, they felt an indescribable sense of intimidation.

IV

On the 16^th of April the following year, Ariabert and Jouslain met at the hospital once more to discuss their future strategy. One pressing issue was that they had to devise a just cause to justify armed resistance against Clanner Ajman.

Jouslain had a proposal in mind:

“To strike down the conspirator at the side.”

Upon hearing Jouslain’s words, Ariabert clapped his hands lightly.

“I see. So our target is Idris. If so, the cause is just. Even regarding your own situation, Lord Jouslain, none of the Clanner’s own words have been relayed to us. It is possible that Idris has been speaking as he pleases.”

“It will likely be deeply regrettable for Lord Idris, however.”

The AJ Alliance declared war with the aim of removing Idris. From that very moment, Idris became a political pawn. Should the AJ Alliance achieve a military victory and corner the Clanner, the Clanner might seek peace negotiations by sacrificing Idris. Conversely, should the Clanner’s forces emerge victorious, Ariabert and Jouslain would be removed from the stage of life itself, leaving only the echoes of Idris’ triumphal song.

“While I may feel pity for Idris being targeted, I also feel pity for us, forced into rebellion against our will. Whether we resist or submit, for the time being, we have no choice but to dance within the Clanner’s enormous palm.”

“In other words, even combined, the three dukes cannot match the Clanner alone.”

“That is precisely why he became the Clanner, bypassing his elder brother.”

Ajman’s elder brother was, in effect, Balamy’s late father, Estrade. Just moments before he could challenge his younger brother’s authority, he met an untimely death, and his surviving child now resided within Jouslain’s camp. It seemed that for two generations, father and son were destined never to find peace under Ajman’s rule.

It was a fact that bore repeating, but both Ariabert and Jouslain were Tytanians. They knew that, at this stage, seeking a peaceful resolution with empty hands would be futile. They had no choice but to defend themselves through force. It was not to say that it was right from a humanitarian point of view. However, that was the grim reality of the universe under Tytania’s dominion.

Ariabert made a proposal.

“How about a plan like this? We send a secret envoy to His Majesty Harsha VI of the Vardana Empire, obtain a secret decree, and have him command us to strike down the Clanner. At the very least, under the laws of the Vardana Empire, we would possess the righteous cause of a government army.”

“His Majesty Harsha VI would certainly rejoice. However, that would be all. The notion that he could punish Tytania exists only in his delusions.”

Furthermore, if they intended to use the receipt of the Emperor’s secret decree for political advantage, they would have to make it public. Once made public, the Clanner would likely pressure Harsha VI to annul the decree. Or, he might even take that opportunity to force his abdication.

Rather than that, they could simply announce that they would respect the Vardana court in general from now on. It would require effectively nothing from them, and it would improve Harsha VI’s impression of Jouslain and the others; furthermore, if they used that to pressure Harsha VI, it would only damage the reputation of the Uraniborg side.

“Furthermore, Count Elman shall return to Uraniborg. He must convey to His Clanner Highness that there is no discord between the two of us.”

This was not Jouslain’s true intention. In the first place, Jouslain did not actually believe that Count Elman would return to Uraniborg and sincerely defend Ariabert and him.

To put it plainly, Jouslain wanted to keep Count Elman away from their immediate circle. In Jouslain’s view, the man was entirely more trouble than he was worth. To use a more cynical expression, he had no utility. When fighting an unparalleled great enemy, one could not afford to have the ground dug out from under one’s feet. It was best to keep him at a distance, even if only out of respect. Fortunately, there was someone suitable to send him to Uraniborg. Commodore Nostitz, who had been taken prisoner by Jouslain.

Commodore Nostitz was extremely displeased in his state as a prisoner. Given his situation, this was only natural. Under normal circumstances, he was not the sort of man to fall for a trick involving a feigned surrender, but because his opponent was one of the four Dukes of Tytania, he had shown proper courtesy and approached the enemy ship of his own accord. Having had that courtesy betrayed, there was no way he could be anything but incensed.

He was subsequently released, and Jouslain requested that he escort Count Elman Tytania back to Uraniborg. Jouslain offered a polite apology for the previous discourtesy and, extending a hand for a handshake, told Commodore Nostitz that they should meet on the battlefield with honour. It was a piece of political theatre, performed with the full knowledge of Nostitz’s temperament. Nostitz was genuinely moved, and after pledging that he would undoubtedly escort Count Elman safely back to Uraniborg, he withdrew from Jouslain’s presence.

At this time, Jouslain acted with a single purpose, ensuring that he placed no restrictions on Count Elman’s movements until his departure. At the very least, Jouslain was far more unscrupulous than Commodore Nostitz.

While Ariabert was entrusted with military leadership and oversight, Jouslain devoted himself primarily to political and diplomatic manoeuvres. This began, first and foremost, with matters within Tytania itself. He had heard strange rumours regarding Farah, who had accompanied them from Uraniborg. It was Balamy who had gathered the information, reporting that Farah had been summoned by the Clanner and whispered something of great importance.

“Shall I question Farah, Your Grace?”

“It would be in vain. There is no guarantee that His Clanner Highness spoke the truth to Farah. Lord Balamy, His Highness is a man capable of intimidating others with words that do not reflect his true heart. Whatever Farah was told, I believe he was merely chosen unilaterally to throw us into confusion.”

Ultimately, a decision regarding Farah’s fate would have to be made. Of course, he would not be killed. Since they had effectively raised a rebellion against Uraniborg, Jouslain and Ariabert had to present an antithesis to the existing Tytania style of human governance. While ideals alone could never triumph over reality, it was more advantageous to establish a clear stance and direction. Even if they could not increase their allies, they at least wanted to reduce their enemies.

“Do you think we ought to devise some sort of strategy regarding Fan Hyulick?”

When Ariabert consulted him in this manner, Jouslain tilted his head slightly.

“No, let us leave Fan Hyulick alone. I believe he will seek contact with us eventually. As long as we do not close the door on him and remain ready to offer tea at any time, that will suffice.”

“Assuming he does approach us, can you predict when that might be?”

Upon being questioned again by Ariabert, Jouslain found himself reflecting.

“It is difficult to be certain with specific numbers. However, I can answer if I use a different phrasing.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, it will be around the time Lord Idris makes contact with them.”

Ariabert nodded at Jouslain’s response and gave a short laugh. There was no reason for Idris to feel superior to Ariabert regarding pure military talent. Furthermore, Clanner Ajman held immense expectations for Idris’ capabilities.

“The Clanner might even hire them as mercenaries by guaranteeing Fan Hyulick’s faction considerable favour. In fact, I would not be surprised if he were granted supreme command over the active combat units.”

Upon hearing Jouslain’s opinion, Ariabert formed what was, rather, a satisfied smile.

“That is interesting. Even if the banners under which we rally change, it means Fan Hyulick and I must still fight one another. I should like to aim for a single victory after two defeats.”

As he watched his maternal cousin’s smile, which conveyed a sense of both mental fortitude and flexibility, Jouslain was picturing a somewhat different scene in his mind. How would Fan Hyulick and the others choose their future paths?

On this day, the 20^th of April, a decree was proclaimed in the name of Tytania’s Landless Clanner, Ajman, stripping Ariabert and Jouslain of all public offices and official rights, including their ducal titles. Of the four dukes who had stood together at Uraniborg one year prior, one had died, two had been exiled, and Idris was the only one who remained.

Chapter 8 – The Pirate’s Study Group

I

“How on earth did it come to this!?”

It was Lieutenant Alan Mahdi who shouted on behalf of the entire group. The anti-Tytania rogues, who had begun gathering around the large table in the mess hall, stopped tearing at their breakfast bread and turned to look at him.

“Tytania is splitting apart, and there’s civil war. How did things end up like this? Doctor, surely you can explain something.”

Late April, SY 447. Paulsen, a subordinate of Ariabert, was still leading the diving unit, patrolling the underwater reaches of the planet Bargash.

It was true that the Bargash withdrawal unit was lying in wait beneath the sea, but the Honest Old Man Junior was operating independently of them. The rogue band of scoundrels had infiltrated Port Samuel, a cluttered, subtropical port city, and rented an entire house. The old building, which had formerly served as a boarding house for sailors, possessed three distinct advantages: it was inconspicuous, it had many rooms, and the rent was cheap. Its disadvantages, however, outnumbered those merits five to one.

“There is far too little information. Documentation and physical evidence are insufficient. To let one’s imagination roam recklessly in such a state is not scholarship; it is mere gambling.”

Doctor Lee, who spoke with such an air of superiority, was a man widely reputed for using scholarship as a tool for gambling in the realms of politics and warfare. Having made the thesis of “How Tytania shall perish” his lifelong research subject, he was, at the very least, ideologically the most dangerous terrorist in the universe.

Doctor Lee knew several ways to destroy not just Tytania but all of humanity, though he lacked the organisational strength to carry them out. This must have been a fortunate thing for mankind.

“Of course, if one were to insist, I would not refuse to lay out my hypotheses. However, to rush into catering to popular gossip without pursuing theoretical perfection is a perversion of the scholarly path…”

“Fan, for the vegetable omelette, do you want it to be mainly potato or mainly onion!?”

This was the voice of a woman named Seraphine Coopers. She was addressing a young man with carrot-coloured hair, who had just taken his seat at the table with a sleepy expression and unbrushed locks.

Since renting this boarding house, Fan Hyulick and Seraphine Coopers had been living in the same room. If the feeling of “I simply cannot leave him be” fell within the bounds of affection, then their cohabitation was, for the time being, based on love.

“You truly are a man who never fails to replenish your supply of women, no matter where you go.”

Louis Edmond Pagès remarked this with genuine admiration, without much hint of sarcasm. Truth be told, Fan Hyulick required the presence of women for his own mental stability. Perhaps “prone to falling in love” was a more accurate description of the reality.

Last year, he had met a young girl named Lira Florentz, who was like a younger sister to Miranda. Although they had been parted by death before their relationship could even become romantic, her presence within him had only grown more immense after her passing. This very feeling had ultimately driven him to assassinate Count Arses, a Tytanian noble. Furthermore, that act had led to a confrontation with Arses’ elder brother, Duke Zarlisch, which resulted in his own death. To simplify the current situation into a legend, everything could be traced back to a single woman.

“I really wish you would use less onion.”

Miranda spoke to him as he ruffled his carrot-coloured hair in response:

“I think you could afford to be a little more cheerful. You did defeat Duke Ariabert, after all. Twice in a row, no less.”

“With cheap tricks.”

Fan Hyulick’s tone was utterly blunt.

The victory on the seabed had, rather, left him frustrated. He had won the battle, wounded Duke Ariabert Tytania—a man recognised by all as a great commander—and had driven him to resign his position as Commander-in-Chief, yet he felt no sense of true triumph. He felt like a bee stinging a great dragon: it only served to make him acutely aware of his own insignificance. What he had desired instead was to win a grand, honourable victory through a decisive clash between great fleets.

Doctor Lee threw cold water on his brand of chivalry.

“Oh, so you are dissatisfied. Tell me, Mr Hyulick, did you intend to fight a grand, frontal battle and emerge victorious with such meagre forces, such a thin sense of alliance, and a practically non-existent strategic plan?”

Doctor Lee was a master of adopting a spiteful and haughty tone without needing even a milligram of effort. Although Fan Hyulick opened his mouth to speak, it was clear that he could not possibly win, whether in terms of wit or sheer force, so he seemed to have no desire to engage in a losing battle.

A noisy debate was unfolding around him. It had been an unresolved argument for several days now. Since Tytania had split how they were to fight in the future and against whom remained the question.

“Whichever faction we destroy, the remaining half of Tytania will only celebrate. Is that not utterly absurd?”

“But even if they rejoice, their strength will have been halved. That is the crucial point, is it not?”

There was a thud against the table. Doctor Lee had struck the surface with his palm to call for the attention of the assembly.

“It is utterly vexing, but if it is what you all so desperately desire, I suppose I have no choice. I shall allow my scholarly conscience to rest for a moment and attempt to organise the situation.”

“Who exactly was it that desired this?” The “students” exchanged glances. Mahdi, finding himself the centre of attention, shook his head in a panic. Ignoring them, Doctor Lee urged everyone to take their seats.

There were those who grumbled, but in the end, the fact that everyone sat down was precisely the strange thing about this band of rogues. There was no charismatic leader, and while everyone acted quite selfishly, they did not disband. After all, since everyone stood isolated from both Tytania and the anti-Tytania factions, they had nowhere else to go.

Doctor Lee proceeded to restate the socially recognised facts to the “students” before developing his own theory from there.

“When a single faction holds the majority and grows immense, we call it a Gulliver, borrowing from ancient literature. However, if the tendency toward enlargement becomes excessive, they naturally move towards division and dispersal. This is a law of history, so there is no need for undue surprise. If anything, one should rejoice that the temporal distance to the downfall of Tytania has been shortened. The only problem is…”

At this point, Fan Hyulick interjected somewhat hastily.

“Overthrowing Tytania sounds fine. But which Tytania are we overthrowing? Clanner Ajman, or the two dukes of the anti-Clanner faction?”

“They are no longer dukes,” corrected Doctor Lee, with the meticulousness of a graduate researcher. “They are former dukes. Now, the real problem is the risk that short-sighted choices, such as the one seen in Mr Fan Hyulick’s question just now, might cause us to misjudge the course of history. One must not lose sight of the grand design by fixating on immediate interests. Even so, the Clanner’s course of action is somewhat incomprehensible. It cannot be called a passing grade.”

Doctor Lee offered his assessment with an air of arrogance.

“If it were up to me, I would not attempt to strip both A and J simultaneously of their official duties. I would strip one of their rights while going out of my way to favour the other. I believe you can guess the reason…”

As Doctor Lee shifted his gaze, behaving like a first-rate professor at a third-rate university, Salam Amzekar replied:

“To engineer a split between the two, is that it?”

“Correct. As long as A and J remain united, their influence will not wane. Military and political power are working in perfect harmony, leveraging each other’s strengths and compensating for their respective weaknesses. A year ago, I could never have imagined such a magnificent duo would emerge.”

Watching the others nod and exchange glances, Doctor Lee added:

“To evaluate even one’s adversaries objectively, that is what academic conscience demands.”

Because he had a penchant for making unnecessary remarks at unnecessary times, Doctor Lee tended to make unnecessary enemies.

Seraphine Coopers casually picked up the coffee pot and stood up, moving around to pour coffee for the “students”, who all wore sulky expressions. Holding a cup in one hand, Louis Edmond Pagès asked a question:

“So, according to this so-called objective evaluation of yours, whose scheme was this particular affair?”

“I do not know who it is. They may be using plausible pseudonyms like destiny or history. In short, that individual intends to stage a drama with Tytania as the sole protagonist on a grand stage. Everyone else is destined to be nothing more than a supporting player or an antagonist.”

“I wonder if it will ever become an anti-establishment revolutionary drama with us as the protagonists?”

Michael Walenkov caused his chair to creak with his massive, 0.1-ton frame. Doctor Lee replied magnanimously:

“We shall have to wait for a future new production for that. For the time being, the Blaze Flag Army may take the stage. We shall simply accept a performance fee and join whichever side offers it.”

Amzekar knitted his dark eyebrows.

“The Blaze Flag Army must possess some pride. Do you truly believe they would agree to such a thing so easily?”

“It is merely a matter of appearances. I doubt how long such principles can hold up in the face of greed.”

Doctor Lee ruthlessly slashed through his former comrades with the blade of his acerbic tongue.

“Well, in their case, it cannot be helped. Those who lack true scholarly ambition will always prioritise practical benefit over ideals, and they feel no particular burden on their consciences. Looking back, if one faces the relationship between our ideals and reality head-on, we are actually at a quite critical juncture.”

Sceptical gazes, asking, “What were our ideals, exactly?”, converged upon Doctor Lee. Naturally, he did not grant them a second thought.

“There is a possibility that we may receive overtures from both factions of the split Tytania. Furthermore, those overtures could be extremely significant. The question is how we shall choose when that time comes…”

The lamp on the wall flickered suddenly, announcing a visitor. The black-haired rogue, who had failed to become a professor, masked his burgeoning irritation and ordered Pagès to investigate the identity of the guest.

Upon receiving the reply that it was Count Elman Tytania, he flashed a thoroughly wicked smile. To his comrades, the expression on the teacher’s face clearly betrayed his thoughts on whom he might fail next.

II

“My, my, His Lordship Count Elman Tytania. I am truly honoured that you have deigned to visit such a grubby place.”

Doctor Lee welcomed the guest from Tytania with great ceremony. Ever since the attempted kidnapping last year, the two had served as the vital link between their respective factions. However, while Count Elman’s status was officially recognised by Clanner Ajman, Doctor Lee did not act with the unanimous support of the Anti-Tytania Faction. He invited the Count into the salon and gave instructions to the women.

“Serve His Lordship some tea. Use the most expensive blend we have.”

The latter half of the dialogue spoke eloquently of the financial state of Fan Hyulick’s faction. Count Elman must have thought it was quite vulgar to judge the quality of tea by its price, yet it was the hallmark of a true aristocrat to neither let it show on his face nor mention it with his lips.

Count Elman merely touched the served black tea to his lips for the sake of appearances, and after placing the cheap white porcelain saucer back down, he spoke with careful deliberation.

“It seems these past few days have brought much surprise to you both, in mass and in magnitude.”

“Indeed,” replied Doctor Lee, prompting the Count to mutter:

“It is a pity. Both Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain have personally distanced themselves from the position of the next Clanner of Tytania.”

“And what of Lord Idris?”

“Lord Idris lacks popular support. Normally, I would not consider him incompetent, but at present, nothing but his narrow-mindedness is apparent.”

“It is certainly extremely difficult for Lord Idris to face both A and J alone, without the backing of the Clanner’s authority.”

Count Elman did not respond directly. It was not that he disagreed with Doctor Lee’s opinion, but rather that he took issue with those vulgar abbreviations, A and J. After all, he was a nobleman of Tytania.

“Eventually, Lord Idris will surely desire to be officially recognised as the successor to His Clanner Highness…”

“Do you not possess such ambition yourself, Count?”

“That is preposterous.”

What appeared to be a wave of exhaustion was, in truth, the Count’s strained smile.

“I believe I am aware of my own capabilities. If I am fortunate, I might at least serve as the Chief Butler of Uraniborg—that is to say, the Clanner’s estate. In terms of rank, perhaps I could become Prime Minister of the Vardana Empire. But that is the limit. The position of Landless Clanner of Tytania is far too heavy for someone like me.”

“There are, however, precedents in history of those who went mad from bearing such a burden.”

Doctor Lee appeared to be enjoying himself. It was not that he delighted in tormenting Count Elman, but rather that he was enjoying the interplay between theory and fact in the manner of a scholar; however, it was perhaps his own misfortune that others did not perceive it as such.

“His Highness Ajman is formidable.”

That was Count Elman’s reply. The meaning hidden beneath the surface of his words was both profound and vast. Doctor Lee slightly narrowed his eyes, observing the expression of the Tytanian noble. Eventually, what he spoke of was not a result of his observation but a matter regarding something else entirely.

“Now then, I believe it is about time, Count. Shall we discuss the business that brought your noble self to such a wretched hovel?”

“I have been permitted to return to Uraniborg.”

“I presume I may offer my congratulations on that matter?”

“Regarding that…”

The Count adjusted not only his voice but also his entire posture.

“I wish to welcome your Blaze Flag Army heretic group to Uraniborg. I want to let all past grievances wash away and invite you as specialists in military technology. I promise sufficient compensation.”

Though he should have anticipated this, a silent wave of shock spread far beyond his expectations. Doctor Lee, who had accurately foreseen the turn of events, felt no particular pride in the fact itself.

“Count, you were supposed to be Lord Ariabert’s advisor. Have you fully reconciled yourself to that fact?”

“There is nothing to debate. My loyalty has always resided in Uraniborg with His Clanner Highness.”

“And what of our own safety? It would be the height of tragedy and absurdity if we were to make it to Uraniborg only to be arrested upon arrival and then face death by torture or execution.”

“I am a Tytanian. I would never resort to such despicable acts. I give you my word of honour.”

“Duchess Theresa Tytania is also a member of your important clan. Do you believe you can persuade her?”

Doctor Lee’s quiet question left Count Elman speechless.

“Her words and actions are governed by emotion. We are the ones who killed two of her sons. It is only natural that she hates us, but it would be problematic if that hatred manifested in actual harm.”

Doctor Lee’s argument was incredibly self-serving, yet at the same time, it was correct. Both Miranda and Mahdi nodded deeply in agreement.

They had not exactly agreed to proceed to Uraniborg, but it was only natural that they engage in a struggle over terms at the negotiating table. They could not afford to reduce their own options by rejecting the proposal outright. In Mahdi’s case especially, he harboured a financial grudge against Tytania. Even if the negotiations were to collapse, his true intention was likely to extort a significant sum before that happened.

Furthermore, Doctor Lee proceeded with another essential question.

“Above all else, what are the true intentions of His Clanner Highness Ajman?”

“I do not know.”

The clear-cut reply was simultaneously fraught with bitterness. The Count let out a heavy sigh, then took out a white silk handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead and neck.

“It is not merely that I do not know; no one else can know the will of His Clanner Highness. He is a truly unfathomable man, and the insight of an ordinary person is simply powerless against him.”

“I am in agreement on that point.”

With a solemn air, Doctor Lee expressed his academic agreement.

“I can certainly sense a tremendous energy of will, but its direction remains difficult to discern. It does not appear to be aimed simply at the maintenance of power, nor does he seem like a nihilist with a destructive bent. He is a man who never ceases to pique my academic interest.”

“To me, above all else, he is my liege. So, will you accept my proposal?”

“Personally, I am happy to accept. A scholar ought to be by the side of the finest subject of study. I would be most grateful if I could perform a living dissection of the mental world of Ajman Tytania.”

“Doctor, I do not believe myself to be such a narrow-minded man, but I must ask that you refrain from making remarks that are unnecessarily disrespectful toward His Clanner Highness.”

Count Elman made the request in a tone that made it clear he was suppressing his emotions.

“My apologies. I shall be more careful from now on.”

Doctor Lee’s honest reaction was something that should have been described as a tactical retreat. When subsequently pressed for a clear answer, he feigned deep thought.

“It is far too grave a matter for me to give an immediate response. I must ask for some time.”

After acting with such unnecessary deliberation, that was all Doctor Lee had to say.

III

Once Count Elman Tytania took his leave, the hideout of those rogues instantly reverted to a place of boisterous debate. At the time, this house bore the overly beautiful name of “Green Wind,” though the only remnant of that title was the green paint that had seeped into parts of the walls. Against those walls, the voices of the rogues, enjoying their freedom of speech, echoed in a chaotic scramble.

It was said that the proposal had originated from Count Elman himself, but it would become official once the Clanner granted his sanction. The rogues, who had hitherto been cast out and hunted as enemies of Tytania, would suddenly find the greatest power in the universe on their side. In Mahdi’s words, it was “a remarkably prosperous prospect”, but it was Seraphine who attempted to dismiss it outright as being “out of the question”.

“No matter how good the terms are, it is out of the question. Isn’t Tytania supposed to be our enemy!?”

“Which Tytania do you mean?”

The irony resided more in the fact itself than in the voice or the words. Looking down at the speechless Seraphine, Doctor Lee cleared his throat and resumed his lecture.

“Now that a concrete example has been presented before us, I believe the matter has become easier to understand. However, such situations could occur infinitely many times across the entire universe in the future. It is an unpleasant thought, but there is no denying the fact that the modern era itself is being led by Tytania.”

He took a breath and drank some water, an action that seemed quite characteristic of a professor.

“It is a strange paradox, but by splitting into the Clanner faction and the anti-Clanner faction—if that is how one ought to call them—Tytania’s overall influence has actually increased.”

A loud voice responded:

“In that case, there’s no need to interfere. We should just let the two sides fight to the bitter end while we enjoy the view from a safe distance. If all goes well, we could reap the rewards once both sides are utterly exhausted. It’s not my favourite way of doing things, though.”

Miranda was the one who made that proposal. Although her resentment towards Tytania, the force that had destroyed her husband’s vocal cords, ran deep, she possessed a pragmatic sense of strategy and did not allow herself to run wild with emotion.

“We shall have both sides present their terms. If they are in a position where they must make demands, we can drive the rewards as high as we please. Now is the time to make them pay their absolute maximum.”

Such was the tone of Mahdi’s voice, which was tinged with excitement. The grudge he held against Tytania was the sort that could be settled with a vast sum of money.

It was Amzekar who raised a doubt, casting a sidelong glance at him.

“Why did Count Elman throw such tempting bait before us? While sudden reversals of fortune are common enough, this feels somewhat extreme.”

“It is because the Clanner faction believes their chances of victory in actual combat are slim. They need talent capable of opposing Lord Ariabert. Given that, regardless of past history, there is no one else but Fan Hyulick.”

Desperate times called for desperate measures. That was Miranda’s opinion on the matter. She held Fan Hyulick’s ability to devise and command tactics in high regard. Amzekar shared this sentiment, though he presented a slightly different perspective.

“However, one could also look at it from the opposite side. If we were to occupy a central position within the Clanner army, it would certainly not be pleasant for those of the Tytania hereditary nobility. It might go as far as them attempting to exclude us or losing their will to fight, but there is even the possibility that they might defect to the anti-Clanner faction on the battlefield.”

“Are you suggesting that is Count Elman’s intention? I feel you might be overthinking it slightly.”

Miranda tilted her head slightly, and her husband, Captain Casimir, had a small nod while wearing a pensive expression.

“I wonder, Doctor.”

In response to the question, Doctor Lee took up the conversation:

“It seems necessary to consider why Count Elman came this far in the first place. Or rather, how he was able to do so. I suppose I’ll have to give that some thought.”

“They must have maintained a channel for contact all this time.”

“It is not our conditions but theirs. Ordinarily, it would not be surprising if Count Elman were under house arrest by the likes of Lord Ariabert. There must be a reason why he is able to move about so freely.”

A sense of unease settled over the rogues. The possibility of a surprise attack by Tytania crossed their minds. Once Count Elman had confirmed their presence in this house, perhaps armed soldiers would surround them and burst in.

That was indeed a concern, but Doctor Lee denied the possibility. He claimed it was not even a matter of that level.

“Both dukes are likely aware of Count Elman’s movements. Because there are too many uncertain variables, they are probably just letting him run free to see how he reacts. If necessary, they could simply turn us into stardust along with him.”

“In that case, why not just side with Lord Ariabert and his lot? It’s worth trying to negotiate. If Count Elman continues down this path, we could just catch him and hand him over to Lord Ariabert as a nice little gift.”

Mahdi made the suggestion, only to be met with a cold glare from Miranda.

“How easily you change your tune. Were you brainwashed during your time in Tytania?”

“I simply refuse to cling to useless things like empty notions of justice. Besides, I only dislike certain methods used by Tytania; I don’t hate Tytania itself.”

“There is no need to make excuses. Everyone is well aware that your conscience is held in a deposit account at a Tytania-affiliated bank.”

“Ah, and it has been accruing interest every single day, so by now, I ought to be a saint good enough to be called Saint Alan.”

“Is that so? I suppose if you wring out all the wicked parts of your soul, only the angelic parts will remain.”

“W-what? Are you looking for a fight?”

With a low growl, Mahdi quickly ducked behind Walenkov’s massive frame. Miranda stepped forward with a fearless smirk.

It was at this moment that Doctor Lee saved Mahdi from his predicament. He did not go so far as to say, “Those who want to cause a disturbance can stand in the corridor,” but he did restrain the Princess with a pacifying, “Now, now, Miranda,” adopting the air of a true pacifist.

“There is no point in fighting amongst ourselves here. We are, so to speak, the Jokers in the deck. Whoever acquires us might find us simply too much to handle. The real issue is how we are treated.”

Fan Hyulick responded bluntly:

“If it were me, I would burn the Joker. It would be much less trouble. If you possess such a thing, you are constantly anxious about when it might be snatched away, and if it were used against you to cause a defeat, the regret would be unbearable.”

“I only wish that no one would notice.”

Doctor Lee wore an expression akin to a professor who had discovered a mistake in his own grading. It was then that Salam Amzekar sought to speak. He did not go so far as to raise his hand, but through a sort of tacit understanding, it created the impression that he was delivering a research presentation to Doctor Lee.

Amzekar’s opinion was as follows:

In the first place, was this not all a grand theatrical performance staged by the entirety of Tytania? Since Lord Ariabert had suffered defeat in the undersea battle, the Tytania Clanner, Ajman, had abandoned the idea of subjugating Fan Hyulick’s faction through purely military means. Perhaps, disregarding the potential for clan division, he had instead devised a treacherous scheme to summon Fan Hyulick’s faction as mercenaries, lure them into the interior of Uraniborg, and massacre them all.

“Count Elman spoke at length about his honour as a nobleman and such, but the history of Tytania is a continuous series of power shifts. Even if others were to condemn us in unison, Tytania would feel no sting. It would be enough if Count Elman alone bore the infamy. What do you think of this idea?”

“It is certainly something Tytania might well do…”

Miranda crossed her thick, muscular arms and fell into thought. The reason Mahdi shifted uncomfortably, though he had been prepared to argue against her, was likely because he felt an undeniable persuasiveness in Amzekar’s words.

Then, Pagès voiced an even more dangerous possibility.

He suggested that there might be a plan in motion at Uraniborg to appease Lady Theresa, the mother of the late Lord Zarlisch. It was a strategy that sought to kill two birds with one stone: to satisfy her by avenging her sons and thereby persuade her to withdraw her claim to the dukedom.

Rather than answering that, Doctor Lee addressed another student:

“So, what shall we do, Mr Hyulick?”

“Simply standing by with our hands tied, watching the conflict between the Tytania factions, would be far too passive.”

“Then, shall we depart for Uraniborg?”

“Before that, we must figure out how we are going to leave this planet.”

“There is no need to worry about that. Count Elman will escort us. That should be well within the scope of his plan.”

At this juncture, it was the responsibility of the administrative authorities, not the scholars. It was what all the students felt Doctor Lee was implying.

“Even if we decide on that, what about the stance of the Bargash government? If we make a choice different from theirs, they will naturally attempt to obstruct us.”

Mahdi’s voice responded to Walenkov’s:

“As if those people had any right to complain. Not when they can’t even provide proper necessary expenses.”

That was certainly true; under the current dire financial circumstances, it would have been impossible for Mahdi, the treasurer, to line his own pockets.

“There is no need to concern ourselves with Bargash just yet. However, there are indeed far too many concerning matters regarding Tytania itself.”

“For instance, Doctor?”

“For instance, the recent internal conflict and division within the Tytania Clan seems a little too clear-cut in its pattern. Uraniborg, the stronghold of evil, and the two unfortunate dukes driven from it. Good versus evil. It is a sight that feels a bit too dramatic.”

“True enough.”

Fan Hyulick brought the faces of Ariabert and Jouslain to mind. “They had faces that appealed to the common people,” he thought, with a slight sense of inferiority.

“In that case, Lord Idris would be viewed, in terms of imagery, as an agent of evil.”

“The man himself might be feeling quite innocent excitement. Believing that the Clanner’s throne is finally within his reach.”

In reality, as long as both Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain remained alive, Idris was nothing more than the third candidate for the next Clanner. Since both dukes had been exiled at the same time, it was only natural that the flames of his ambition would roar into life. However, whether those flames could endure until the very end remained to be seen.

In the first place, it was Doctor Lee who had committed the crime of spreading malicious rumours of “treasonous intent by Lord Idris” throughout the frontier sectors. It was Balamy who had gathered these reports and presented them to Uraniborg. While the matter appeared to have been settled in a half-hearted manner, Ariabert and Jouslain would, of course, use those rumours to their advantage in both political and military manoeuvres.

“Ensure that everyone is prepared to depart by the time further word arrives from Count Elman.” With those words, Doctor Lee dismissed the group of students for the time being.

IV

Doctor Lee and Fan Hyulick continued their brainstorming on the second-floor balcony, amidst the humid sea breeze. Seraphine, who had brought over some iced tea, placed the glasses on the slightly tilted surface of the table and spoke with a hint of hesitation:

“Do you really intend to go to Uraniborg, Fan?”

“Well, I suppose so. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be able to visit a place like Uraniborg in my entire lifetime. There is, of course, the option of going merely for sightseeing.”

“Do you not think you might be killed?”

“That is a difficult question. If I were to be killed, my name would live on in posterity as the ultimate fool. It is possible that the opinions of Admiral Amzekar and Pagès are correct.”

Alternatively, an even more bitter trap might have been waiting in ambush. Lady Theresa, driven mad by revenge, could lead her private militia to raid the brigands, resulting in the total annihilation of both sides after a fierce battle. The incident would then be treated as a mere private feud, allowing Tytania to resolve both internal and external grievances in one fell swoop. Indeed, it would be quite characteristic of Tytania to execute something of that nature.

“Lord Idris’ psychological state is a key factor here,” pointed out Doctor Lee.

If Idris felt confident in defeating Ariabert through a direct confrontation between the fleets, he would have no need for Fan Hyulick. He would simply have him captured and executed immediately. Conversely, if Idris lacked confidence in victory, he might temporarily set aside his pride and agree to delegate command to Fan Hyulick to face Ariabert.

“What do you intend to do if Fan betrays us after being given command?”

Seraphine raised a doubt, but Doctor Lee dismissed it with a light wave of his hand.

“There is no such worry whatsoever. Even if Fan Hyulick were to suddenly turn his blade against us, the Tytania troops would not follow him. They are bound to the authority of Clanner Ajman.”

Fan Hyulick possessed no authority of his own. He merely possessed the capability of a military engineer; his leadership relied one hundred percent upon the authority of the Clanner. That was precisely why Clanner Ajman could remain at ease, even when granting Fan Hyulick military force as a mercenary captain.

In response to Doctor Lee’s explanation, Seraphine raised her objection once more.

“Of course the Tytania troops wouldn’t follow Fan. But the opponents they would be fighting are both Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain. If, on top of an already difficult fighting position, Fan were to instigate them to fight on behalf of both Dukes, the troops might become unsettled.”

“Hmm, I hadn’t considered that.”

Even Doctor Lee fell into thought, looking somewhat caught off guard. Eventually, he nodded, as if praising a bright student.

“Indeed, there are countless theoretical possibilities. Sera, your line of thinking is quite interesting. So, in such a scenario, what would be Fan Hyulick’s motive?”

“His motive?”

“The motive for Fan Hyulick to carry out such instigation. What profit would Hyulick gain from allowing both Dukes to emerge victorious?”

“It would mean the collapse of Clanner Ajman’s dictatorial rule.”

“And then, both dukes would establish a new regime. A reborn, fresh Tytania would take the place of the old Tytania to rule the cosmos. Goodness me…”

Doctor Lee spread his arms wide with deliberate flourish. Hyulick merely shrugged his shoulders.

“Tytania shall endure, indeed. In truth, Doctor, this is no laughing matter,” replied Doctor Lee, noting that he, of course, did not believe this was merely a struggle for power. “Furthermore, there is only one Clanner’s throne. It cannot be asserted that the friendly relations between the two dukes will last forever. If that is the case, will Tytania eventually find itself at war once more over that single seat?”

Doctor Lee and Fan Hyulick locked eyes. No clear conclusion emerged in either of their gazes.

Around this time, it appeared that Lord Idris had established absolute dominion within Uraniborg.

Above all, Clanner Ajman had not shown himself in public at all since the attempted assassination. Only Lord Idris conveyed “His Clanner Highness will” to those outside.

The medical team, consisting of eight doctors, fifteen nurses, six male orderlies, and two pharmacists, stayed within the Clanner’s residential quarters, and the Clanner’s wife and children also remained secluded within the estate, avoiding all public appearances. At the Council of Five Families, four seats remained empty, leaving Idris to sit there entirely alone. No one could fathom what he was thinking or what occupied his mind during the time he spent in that seat.

To the outside world, Idris had become almost the Clanner himself. Although he acted with the authority of Clanner Ajman behind him, his practical administrative ability in managing the massive machinery and vast personnel of Uraniborg showed no signs of collapse, and in that regard, he had earned surprisingly high praise. Consequently, opinions were split: some whispered, “Is His Clanner Highness truly well? Is it possible that Lord Idris is fabricating His Highness’ orders on his own?” while others contended, “Lord Idris is nothing more than a puppet of the Clanner; everything is done according to His Highness’ instructions, which is itself proof that His Highness remains well.” In either case, such voices remained small.

It was on the 1^st of May in that year that Idris made a broadcast to the entire universe. Clad in a grey military uniform, Idris read aloud the proclamation in the name of the Clanner, maintaining a composed manner even as his youthful cheeks were slightly flushed:

“This is a proclamation to Ariabert and Jouslain, currently on planet Bargash. Both individuals have already been stripped of the Tytania family name, their titles, and all other ranks and public offices. They have lost all rights of citizenship. Their current actions on the planet Bargash—claiming the name of the Tytania clan and exercising arbitrary military command—were unjust and illegal, and were such that His Clanner Highness Clanner Ajman and His Imperial Majesty Emperor Harsha VI of Vardana shall absolutely not grant any pardon. Both must immediately surrender themselves to the Tytania regular army and present themselves at Uraniborg to face trial by His Clanner Highness in person. Their safety shall be guaranteed until a verdict is rendered, and the charges levied against them are finalised. The deadline for their surrender is the 20^th of May at noon. Should they fail to present themselves by this deadline, they shall be declared guilty of treason, and every means necessary shall be employed to inflict a punishment befitting their crimes. If they possess any conscience or courage, let them surrender at once.”

The pronouncement continued, concluding with the threat that anyone who aided Ariabert and Jouslain would be deemed an enemy of Tytania, be they nation, organisation, or individual.

When the two dukes heard that declaration while in Bargash, they had already prepared their own proclamation.

“To strike down the conspirator at his side.”

That was the declaration of both dukes. The “conspirator at his side” referred specifically to Duke Idris Tytania. For the sake of their own peace of mind, as well as the morale of the Tytania troops, Ariabert and Jouslain narrowed their military target down to Idris alone.

According to the declaration of the two dukes, Idris had taken advantage of Ariabert’s absence to attempt to seize absolute authority over Uraniborg. He had plotted the assassination of Clanner Ajman, and when the attempt failed, he had cast the blame upon Jouslain. Furthermore, he had imprisoned the wounded Clanner and abused his authority to the utmost, acting with unparalleled tyranny, and was ultimately attempting to become a despot by massacring his own kin. The declaration stated that they must decisively strike him down and restore the honour of Tytania.

“Idris must be furious. We’ve painted him as such a villain.”

The content was so bellicose that Ariabert could only manage a wry smile.

“He is just as desperate to cast us as the villains. It is wretched, but such is the nature of war. Without the pretext of striking down evil, men cannot kill one another.”

“A battle between good and evil, then?”

“No, evil against evil, probably.”

With a bitter smile, Jouslain took the manifesto in his hand.

“I should like to be the lesser evil, at the very least, but we’ll have to see how it turns out…”

Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power

I

There was no way he could have known the name of a mere rat-thief like Alan Mahdi, yet there was a young man who posed that very same question to himself.

“How did things come to this?”

The young man’s name was Duke Idris Tytania. At twenty-five years of age, he served as the acting sovereign of Uraniborg. His equal competitors had either fallen or withdrawn in rapid succession, and his sole superior was currently hospitalised for medical treatment. He should have been a man of immense fortune, someone who had concentrated power upon himself without even having to exert the effort.

However, Idris was not as satisfied with the status quo, as those who slandered him might have believed. He was a monarch walking on thin ice. Should the Clanner rise from his sickbed and issue a single command, Idris would be forced to bow his head and relinquish his seat as the executor of power. Furthermore, if the rebel alliance of Ariabert and Jouslain were to achieve a military victory, Idris risked losing not only his power but also his very life.

Idris summoned the Tytania executives within Uraniborg and compelled them all to swear oaths of loyalty. Moreover, he ordered the executives stationed throughout the cosmos to submit written pledges of allegiance with equal rigour.

“We pledge our absolute loyalty to His Clanner Highness of Tytania and to His Grace Duke Idris, his appointed proxy.”

They spoke such words with reverence. They recorded them in writing. Yet, they were undoubtedly capable of turning against their lords with a sneer the moment Tytania’s rule slackened and the physical force required to punish infidelity waned. After all, it was Tytania itself that had, until this day, mocked such ceremonial loyalties and asserted that might alone was the principle of dominion. It was the pride of Tytania to never rely on the loyalty of the subjugated but to maintain her hegemony through strength alone. A Tytania that depended on the power of others possessed not even a milligram of reason for being.

Idris, for his part, had no desire to become the “first Tytania to rely on the strength of others”. Furthermore, this was a conflict within Tytania itself. He could not help but remain acutely aware of the reactions of Ariabert and Jouslain.

Idris ordered the entire Tytania army to assemble at Uraniborg. Furthermore, utilising his position as the Minister of Military Affairs of the Vardana Empire, he summoned their national forces as well. Although he knew he would be unable to deploy them for any major purpose, having them gathered in numbers would at least be useful for rear-guard security and logistics. He had no luxury of leaving them idle.

“I will not lose to someone like Ariabert. Was he not a man defeated by bandits twice? I shall crush him squarely and with dignity.”

He possessed that much pride and spirit; however, the problem was that no one else shared his convictions. “I do not believe Lord Idris can defeat Lord Ariabert,” he could hear the whispers. At least, that was how it seemed to Idris.

One might even say that this was Idris’ true enemy. An excessive sense of competition against others sometimes caused him to underestimate his opponents, preventing him from grasping the situation objectively. Subjectivity and emotion preceded observation and analysis.

Idris’ memory was somewhat confused as to what exactly occurred immediately after the battleship Austra, which Jouslain had boarded, departed from Uraniborg. While his impressions of each individual scene were vivid, their chronological order was incomplete. As Idris gazed through the transparent wall at the sight of Jouslain’s small fleet receding in a line of points of light, thinking to himself, “I wish he would just not come back,” a woman’s piercing scream stabbed at his ears.

“His Clanner Highness has been shot! Catch the criminal! It must be Jouslain!”

Idris acted on reflex. By the time he had turned around through the transparent wall, he was already holding the charged particle pistol from his waist in his right hand. Numerous figures clad in grey military uniforms swayed like a colourless wave, and shouts and screams ricocheted against his eardrums; at that moment, his senses alone could not discern what had occurred.

The screaming voice that had informed him of the situation belonged to Duchess Theresa Tytania. The Duchess, who continued to shout at a high volume, looked like a solitary opera singer. Lying on the floor beside her was Clanner Ajman. And there was the figure of a man, running away in an unnatural posture, while still pointing his gun at the Clanner. He, too, was clad in a grey military uniform…

The guards hesitated to fire. They feared that if they shot, they might inadvertently wound Tytania nobles. Watching their reaction, Idris let out a torrent of abuse:

“You useless wretches! Are you nothing but botched sculptures?!”

The fact that Idris was braver and more capable than the average man, yet lacked the respect of his soldiers, likely stemmed from such outbursts. He frequently lacked the most fundamental understanding of human interaction: that even those of low standing possessed emotions and self-respect. It was an old proverb that “nobles are ungrateful,” and it held true because he believed it was only natural for others to submit to and serve him, allowing him to remain indifferent even when he harmed or betrayed them.

Yet, at that moment, Idris acted more bravely than anyone else. He ran alone, pursuing the fleeing sniper. Several guards rushed forward from the front, striking down at the sniper with their rifle barrels. They had intended to make an arrest while keeping him alive, but instead, they were caught in the sniper’s frantic gunfire, and two men fell to the floor.

Idris caught up to him there and called for his surrender. The sniper’s muzzle began to aim directly at the centre of Idris’ chest. A fraction of a second before that could happen, Idris pulled the trigger, piercing the sniper’s face just below his right eye with a beam. The beam created a one-centimetre exit wound at the back of the sniper’s head, and blood formed a thin bridge through the air.

“Die, die, die!”

Repeated shots and rapid fire made the collapsed sniper’s body convulse. Each time a beam struck, muscles and tendons twitched reflexively, causing the sniper to lurch about. The fabric of the military uniform tore, skin burst, and scattering blood traced geometric patterns upon the floor.

“Your Grace, the terrorist is already dead. More importantly, His Clanner Highness’ wellbeing!…”

Idris finally regained his composure as a middle-aged officer with a black moustache caught him from behind. He cast the gun aside, ordered a doctor to be summoned, and rushed to the Clanner’s side.

Lying supine on the floor, Clanner Ajman was pressing a large, thick-palmed hand against his right abdomen, but he had not lost consciousness. His eyes remained bright and piercing, staring up at the far, high, domed ceiling.

“Your Clanner Highness, stay with us!”

“… Is that you, Lord Idris? What became of the culprit?”

“Do not worry. I shot him dead.”

“You killed him?”

“It was the justice he deserved.”

“I see. That is true enough. However, the dead cannot speak.”

Even the pain of his wound could not strip the irony from the Clanner’s tone. Stunned by the Clanner’s brief words, Idris looked towards where the man he had shot lay fallen. Doctors rushed to the scene, followed by a swarm of nurses and medics.

Leaving the Clanner in their care, Idris walked towards the sniper. The soldiers parted to clear a path. Looking down at the still-young sniper’s face, which was half-soaked in blood, Idris delivered a kick fuelled by rage and hatred. A dull thud brought a memory rushing back to Idris. It was the sound of the words Lady Theresa had screamed.

Glaring across the crowd of officers and soldiers, he roared:

“Do not let Lord Jouslain leave! He must question him regarding the circumstances. Bring him back!”

At that moment, Idris, of course, had not issued the order solely out of a pure judicial necessity for investigation. He was well aware of the political implications of summoning Jouslain to Uraniborg at such a critical juncture. However, in this situation, no matter who stood in Idris’ position, there would have been no other way to issue such an order.

“I did not go out of my way to set a trap for Jouslain. If anything, he was the one who caused this trouble. If he had nothing to hide, he should have quietly complied with the summons and returned. The fact that he did not mean he is guilty.”

Even now, he continued to think this way, though Idris was not entirely certain that Jouslain was the primary culprit behind the attempted assassination of the Clanner.

The fact that drugs were found within the body of the dissected sniper proved the existence of a conspiracy behind the scenes. Although it could no longer be confirmed, there was also an extremely high possibility that mind control had been employed.

Regarding the identity of the sniper, Captain Goldwin of the Military Police, acting under Idris’ orders, conducted a swift investigation. The sniper’s name was E. White, a first-class seaman. Since he was single and originally from the Vardana home-world, suspicions arose that he might have been an extremist loyalist to the Vardana Court. However, he had come from a very ordinary family background, and it appeared that the threads of any underlying plot did not, at the very least, lead towards the Vardana Court.

However, Idris committed that single clause to memory, viewing it as a weapon to pressure the Emperor of Vardana, Harsha VI. Idris’ attitude towards Harsha VI had always been consistently disrespectful and unfriendly, but on this occasion, it was even more severe. He forbade the Imperial family from leaving the court and tightened surveillance until the truth of the incident was uncovered and the court’s lack of involvement was proven.

“Damn that Idris, damn that Idris!”

Like a performer in a classical drama, Harsha VI cursed the young duke. For all his power, what else could he have done but curse?

However, amidst his cursing, Ariabert and Jouslain, far away on the planet Bargash, issued a declaration condemning Idris’ tyranny and calling for the unification of anti-Idris forces. Contained within it was a passage criticising Idris, stating that he “lacked etiquette towards the Vardana court and failed to know his place as a subject”. Harsha VI, who always relied on the efforts of others, felt immensely gratified by this.

II

As for Idris, who had been branded a “conspirator at the side” by both dukes, he could not simply surrender himself to fury. His attempt to first deal with matters within his own clan might have been an action that demonstrated the very essence of his way of thinking.

He summoned Lady Theresa, the mother of the late Zarlisch, to his office. It was, in truth, an interrogation.

“Duchess, I have summoned you because there is something I wish to ask. Though, you may already suspect the nature of this meeting.”

“Well, I wonder what it could be.”

The Duchess’ eyes moved restlessly, unable to settle.

“I ask that you do not play the fool. Duchess, the other day you said that this was Jouslain’s doing. On what grounds did you make such a claim?”

“Oh my, how strange.”

Lady Theresa deliberately caused the heavy flesh of her throat to quiver.

“What do you mean, ‘strange’?”

“It’s just that, Lord Idris, it sounded as though you were defending Jouslain.”

“I merely wish to remain impartial, Duchess.”

“Oh, is that so? And here I thought you would be delighted.”

“Why on earth should I rejoice in His Clanner Highness’ misfortune? Please, do not try to evade the question. Madam, is it not possible that you yourself dispatched the assassins to harm His Clanner Highness, all in an attempt to frame Lord Jouslain?”

Idris intended to shock the Duchess into a state of psychological vulnerability, forcing her to confess everything. However, the effect of such a potent accusation was too powerful. Duchess Theresa let out a piercing shriek and recoiled, falling to the floor along with her chair. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and tiny white bubbles froth at the corners of her mouth.

From that point on, Duchess Theresa Tytania suffered recurrent bouts of hysteria and was confined to a special hospital room. To prepare for the surges of her violent outbursts, all the luxurious furnishings had their corners rounded and smoothed, thick padding was embedded into the walls, and even meals that could only be described as exquisite were served on paper tableware. Two female doctors and six sturdy nurses were stationed in her room.

Once the measures had been completed, Idris felt a sense of mental relief. Although he had failed to extract any vital information, these precautions ensured that Duchess Theresa would be treated as an incompetent, thereby preventing the nightmare for the whole of Tytania that she would hold a seat on the Council of the Five Families. If this was indeed the conclusion, it was such a pathetic end that the late Zarlisch would undoubtedly have let out a roar of fury.

Having taken a moment to catch his breath, Idris set about dealing with a certain matter involving a woman. The subject was Countess Theodora Tytania, as several whispered reports had reached him claiming that she had been instigating Lady Theresa’s political ambitions.

When Theodora entered the office after being summoned, Idris did not even offer her a chair. He directed all the venom in his being towards her through his eyes and his words:

“I am impressed that you did not flee.”

“And why should I have fled, Lord Idris, confidant to His Clanner Highness?”

“Do not play coy, you vixen!”

Idris hurled abuse at her. As if striking them like a drawn blade. Theodora maintained her outward composure, casting a chilling gaze at Idris before settling into the armchair in front of the desk. Idris did not go so far as to ask, “Who said you could sit?”, and proceeded immediately to the judgement.

Although they had been acquainted in the bedchamber prior to the Clanner’s injury, Idris had cast aside even the slightest hint of false sweetness to fulfil his duty as an inquisitor. He presented various reports, decrying Theodora’s crime of visiting Theresa and instigating her to seek a seat at the Council of the Five Families.

“If I may ask, how exactly does that constitute a crime?” replied Theodora, a thin smile gracing her lips. “I was not suggesting that we should oust anyone. I was merely proposing that a single candidate be seated in a vacant position. That the choice happens to be Lady Theresa was simply a political decision, and I do not believe it is something that should be treated as a crime.”

“How dare you speak so brazenly?” asked Idris while grounding his teeth. “Your so-called political decision was nothing more than an attempt to place Lady Theresa in that seat so that you may pull her strings from behind the scenes and seize actual power. You would do well to remember your place.”

Despite Idris’ fierce condemnation, Theodora remained composed, meeting the Acting Clanner’s gaze head-on.

“Even if that were true, that would be a matter between Lady Theresa and myself. Furthermore, once one becomes a member of the Five Dukes, it is only natural to have staff and advisors. What harm is there in me fulfilling that role as a friend to Lady Theresa?”

“A friend would be appalled to hear that. I wonder which dictionary defines one-sidedly exploiting and manipulating someone as friendship?”

“I have no reason to take a sermon on friendship from someone like you. You don’t have a single friend to your name!”

If Theodora’s goal had been to wound Idris, she had certainly achieved it. Though the colour on Idris’ face, which had briefly turned the shade of fluorescent paper, had returned in less than two seconds, his suppressed passion bled into his voice, causing his shout for the guards to fail to quite reach a full yodel. Even the six sturdy soldiers who entered the room at his command could not hide their look of bewilderment.

“Guards! Place this woman under house arrest. Forbid her from leaving, and check every visitor. Censor all telephone calls and mail, and submit a report at the appointed time every day.”

Idris spat those words out as he stared at Theodora’s face, which looked as though it had been coated in white paint.

“Do not be seduced by that vixen. Unless I give the order myself, you are never to release this woman from house arrest.”

“As you wish. And until when shall this arrangement remain in place?”

“Until I say so.”

Idris waved his left hand from low to high, signalling her to depart. Theodora rose with a posture that could have been described as elegant, but her internal mutterings failed to reach Idris.

“Hmph, coward! Go ahead and let the weight of power you cannot even carry crush you all by yourself. I shall look forward to seeing how things stand in a hundred days…”

As Theodora was escorted out by the guards, Idris turned to the closed door and muttered “vixen” once more, giving voice to his bitter resentment.

“Good heavens, I don’t have a single reliable ally. Must I truly do everything alone…?”

The monopoly on power was, at the same time, a confirmation of isolation. It seemed the previous system of governance, maintained by the five families, had possessed certain advantages. Idris absolutely refused to admit that the leadership of both Ariabert in foreign expeditions and Jouslain in domestic affairs had been exceptional.

Now that the figure had dropped from plus two, past zero, to minus two, this change in numerical value translated directly into an increased burden of responsibility weighing upon Idris’ shoulders. While Idris was managing the challenges well enough on his own, that was only because war had not yet broken out between the two Tytania factions; it was clear that once full-scale combat commenced, Idris’ already saturated capacity for handling affairs would collapse.

“I cannot leave this place, even for half a day. If someone were to launch a coup in support of His Clanner Highness during the interval that I am away from Uraniborg, the consequences would be catastrophic.”

No one possessed enough power within Uraniborg to launch a coup. Even though he knew this, he could not sweep his anxieties away. Idris ceased his return to the Vardana court in his capacity as Minister of Military Affairs. While he had not abdicated his position as Minister, he had instead appointed a subordinate to act in his stead, while he himself remained at Uraniborg.

In this manner, His Imperial Majesty Harsha VI of the Vardana Empire came to enjoy an unexpected blessing. Idris had vanished from the court. Although the Undersecretary of Military Affairs acting as his deputy was a subordinate of Idris and undoubtedly served as a watchdog over the Emperor, Idris had been more than merely a symbol of Tytania used to pressure Harsha VI. He was personally hated by the Emperor. Thus, this development filled His Imperial Majesty with sheer delight.

It was not only these veiled examples; Idris was also facing outright condemnation.

“Think of it carefully. Who stands to gain from the Clanner’s injury and period of convalescence? Who is the one who has managed to seize dictatorial power within Uraniborg? It is the consensus of all eyes, the verdict of all people: it is Idris. The mastermind behind this incident, this catastrophe, is none other than Idris. What we seek is to strip Idris of his unjust position and power, and we harbour not a single thought of rebellion against His Clanner Highness. We are the true loyalists of His Clanner Highness, and it is Idris who is the treacherous official. Let all of Tytania unite to strike down the traitor, Idris!”

When Idris was informed that this was part of the declaration made by Ariabert, Jouslain, and the two dukes, he let out a roar of fury.

“They are no longer dukes, but mere criminals! Are the regular forces of Tytania to obey a commander of criminals? Do they have no concept of righteousness?!”

Reports suggested that the soldiers of the Bargash expeditionary force showed no sign of deserting the command of Ariabert and the others. That news unsettled Idris.

An officer named Captain Marshall spoke. He was the middle-aged officer with a black moustache who had caught Idris from behind during the attempted assassination of the Clanner.

“Your Grace the Duke, what is required is simply to convince the world that His Highness Clanner Ajman is safe and well and that His Highness’ full trust remains with you.”

“And exactly how do you propose I do that?”

“It is a highly fearsome suggestion, but I propose that His Clanner Highness stand before the communication screen and express your trust in Your Grace Idris with your own voice. If you do so, the soldiers of the expeditionary force will cast aside their doubts and restore their loyalty to Uraniborg.”

“So you are saying that no matter what I say myself, the troops simply will not believe me?”

“Your Grace, that is…”

“No, I understand. I spoke unnecessarily; forget it. I shall keep your opinion in mind, Captain. Furthermore, I want you to continue to speak your mind whenever you notice something.”

Even Idris occasionally felt grateful for the counsel of his subordinates. However, as long as he could not even draw the Clanner from his sickbed, even the best of strategies remained impossible to implement.

The only saving grace, it seemed, was that the wife and children of Clanner Ajman made no attempt to restrain Idris. They devoted themselves solely to nursing Ajman, and they seldom ever interacted with Idris.

As a tradition of Tytania, the wives and children of the Clanner and the four dukes did not participate in, nor were they permitted to participate in, the core of the administration. In ancient dynasties, there were instances where a Queen Mother was forced to commit suicide upon the birth of a male heir to prevent the Empress and her kin from privatising state power. While Tytania did not go quite that far, it had always strongly excluded the interference of in-laws, as a principle of governance that held lineage as supreme, or perhaps because of that principle.

In any case, Idris had to select those who would assist him in his immediate circle. And he had to do so urgently.

III

It was on the 10^th of May that Idris summoned his younger brother, Baron Radmoth, to his office once again. For Idris, there simply was no other blood relation to rely upon besides Radmoth.

Zelpha, the youngest brother, respected his eldest brother, but as he was only thirteen years old, Idris could not yet rely on him as a confidant regardless of his future potential. No matter how much dissatisfaction he felt, Idris had no choice but to continue supporting Radmoth.

Zarlisch, who had once been Idris’ rival, had also been troubled by his brother Arses’ lack of talent; however, in this instance, the fact that Ariabert and Jouslain were not burdened by such unworthy brothers was itself a source of irritation for Idris. He felt that they, too, ought to have someone dragging them down!

Idris had prepared about a dozen positions for Radmoth, but he had carefully removed any posts that might grant him excessive actual power. Instead, he chose positions that were not important but were necessary for ceremonial purposes. Radmoth appeared to have noted his brother’s consideration, though he did not outwardly express his gratitude.

Idris cast a bitter look at his brother, who had rejected every position offered to him.

“Radmoth, who do you think would be satisfied with granting you authority? Firstly, you are far too young. Why can you not wait modestly until you are at least twenty?”

“I became the Imperial Guard Commander of the Vardana Empire at seventeen.”

That insolent remark caused Idris to erupt.

“Was that due to your military achievements?! Was it not I who placed you in that position? All you have done is cause unnecessary strife and bring shame upon my face. Do you understand that?!”

“You seem quite desperate to hold that favour over me, Brother, but was it not also for your own convenience?”

“Convenience?”

“I suppose I am nothing more than a tool for you to expand your influence. I know that you despise me. And promoting me is merely a means for you to eventually become Clanner. Must I be blamed so harshly simply because things did not unfold according to your selfishness?”

Idris saw the torches of fury burning in Radmoth’s eyes. A strange chill raced up and down his spine, leaving him at the mercy of his brother’s long-winded tirade.

“I believe I am doing what is best for you in my own way. The very reason you are able to hold actual power in place of the Clanner now is, fundamentally…”

Radmoth suddenly fell silent. It was as if an unseen hand had been placed over his mouth.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It is better not to ask, Brother. If you do, it will only compromise your position.”

“… What are you saying?”

Idris pierced his brother’s face with a fierce gaze once more, yet he realised that a sudden, unprecedented wave of anxiety was rising within him. What on earth was the boy implying with such suggestive words?

Idris observed his brother’s expression anew. Radmoth’s face was dull. It was reminiscent of some kind of reptile. Yet, that very dullness served as armour, concealing Radmoth’s true thoughts. Just as Idris, unable to endure the ominous silence for even a moment longer, prepared to interrogate his brother again, the intercom emitted a low chime. It was unclear which of the brothers had been saved. A message had come from the Clanner’s physician, stating that an injured noble was requesting the presence of Lord Idris.

Idris sent his brother away without having achieved any results and rushed to the Clanner’s sickroom in a state of dread. After receiving instructions from the physician, he attended to the wounded man privately. Without wasting any time on greetings, the Clanner posed a question while remaining reclined in his bed.

“Lord Idris, what has the situation become since then?”

It was a question he had expected, or rather, one that was entirely natural, yet it was one that Idris found truly difficult to answer. He did not lie, but he found himself compelled to embellish the truth.

“In Uraniborg, loyalty to Your Clanner Highness remains entirely unshaken, regardless of rank. In the face of Ariabert and Jouslain, who seek to exploit Your Highness’ misfortune for their own private gain, the people have renewed their vows to burn with righteous indignation and surely punish them…”

A low voice ruthlessly cut through his hollow eloquence.

“Lord Idris.”

“Y-yes.”

“What is the situation outside Uraniborg?”

He could not deceive the Clanner. Even now, Idris realised that. Looking back, the four dukes had always lived under the heavy pressure and sense of subjugation imposed by Clanner Ajman, even as they held him in awe. Furthermore, what the four had previously shared was now a burden that Idris alone had to bear. This realisation required a grim resolve rather than any sense of exaltation.

“Lords Ariabert and Jouslain show no sign of reflection or remorse. On the contrary, it appears they are inciting their subordinate armies and calling upon rebels in various regions to openly raise their banners against Your Clanner Highness.”

His expressionless eyes gazed up at the ceiling. Clanner Ajman remained motionless, like a statue. Idris endured his own voice and the silence that followed, and just as he was on the verge of being unable to bear it any longer, the Clanner finally spoke, his gaze still fixed upon the ceiling:

“Ariabert and Jouslain. Those two… I had intended to grant them both my expectations and my authority.”

“Those two are rebels, Your Highness!”

Facing the wounded Clanner, Idris raised his tone, even while being aware that he was acting somewhat undignified.

“Those two have falsely accused me of placing Your Clanner Highness under house arrest and exercising tyranny. Such base lies are utterly unforgivable.”

“If only that were the truth.”

“Huh…?”

“If you truly possessed such ambition, that single throne would have surely naturally fallen into your hands.”

The Clanner waved his hand faintly toward Idris, who had lost his voice. It was a signal to depart.

As Idris left the infirmary, he stumbled slightly. The waiting physician’s brow twitched at the sight of him looking as though he were intoxicated, but the man wisely avoided making any comment, silently watching the young duke’s retreating figure.

IV

Under the laws of the clan, Ariabert and Jouslain were no longer dukes. They had been stripped of all public offices and positions, reduced to mere commoners. However, the soldiers and officers of the Tytania forces deployed on the planet Bargash continued to call them dukes just as they had before, and both men accepted the title without shame.

“Do not worry, Lord Jouslain. While I cannot grant you wealth, the Kingdom of Elbing shall bestow the titles upon you. The same goes for Lord Ariabert.”

Princess Lydia spoke with such certainty that the two dukes offered their thanks with utmost gravity.

By the end of April, Ariabert had completed his hospitalisation and appeared before the troops, where he was met with great cheers. He visited Jouslain’s quarters to offer his greetings upon his discharge.

“Please, Lord Jouslain, take care of your health and safety as well,” he said while shaking hands. “I cannot fight the Clanner with my own authority alone. I shall have to rely on your popularity and political prowess, Lord Jouslain.”

“The opponent we must fight is not the Clanner, but Idris.”

“Fair enough. It would be unwise to let the soldiers overhear that. I shall keep it in mind. However, it seems that very resolve is exactly what is needed against my own person.”

Ariabert had already delivered a sermon to the entire Tytania army stationed in Bargash. He had issued a severe criticism of Idris’ tyranny, stating that Idris was holding the Clanner under house arrest while he was hospitalised, and that they could not condone such lawlessness, thus resolving to take the daring step of admonishing him.

He declared that the enemy was not the Clanner, but rather Lord Idris himself. Only four percent of the entire army had desired to secede from the command of Ariabert and Jouslain. Had there been confirmation that Clanner Ajman was still alive and well, that figure would likely have increased twentyfold. However, in reality, the theory of the Clanner’s survival was only ever spoken of by Idris himself, so ultimately, it all came down to whether or not they chose to trust him.

“Is it not the case that His Clanner Highness has either already passed away or is in critical condition?”

Rumours to that effect were circulating through the army. Furthermore, when comparing the personal popularity of Idris alone with that of Ariabert and Jouslain, the latter were overwhelmingly superior. It could only be attributed to Idris’ lack of virtue, yet the narrative that he had attempted to oust the two dukes because his thirst for becoming the next Clanner throne had made him too ambitious was a concept the soldiers found easy to accept.

While they did not go so far as to actively hate Idris, the vision of a future where Idris ruled Tytania as a despot after the passing of the two dukes was not a pleasant prospect for them. If they were to be subject to Tytania’s rule regardless, weren’t the two dukes far preferable to Lord Idris?!

Amidst such movements among the troops, a few deserters proceeded with preparations to leave Bargash. Although this was done with the official sanction of both dukes, on the 15^th of May, Count Elman, acting as their representative, visited Jouslain to offer his farewell.

After receiving the formal greetings, Jouslain enquired calmly.

“So, Count Elman, did the negotiations with Fan Hyulick and the others go well?”

“I suspected you might already know.”

A flicker of an expression, something less than a bitter smile, crossed Count Elman’s face, but he immediately veiled his true thoughts behind a veil of etiquette. Maintaining the demeanour of an exemplary middle-aged gentleman, he addressed Jouslain:

“As a nobleman of Tytania, I have nothing to be ashamed of, neither towards myself nor others. However, if you find the existence of these knaves to be so objectionable…”

Count Elman proposed the terrifying suggestion of attacking them after putting them together in a single ship. It was, however, something that Doctor Lee and the others had already pointed out as a possibility.

“I see. So this is the Tytanian way. Nonetheless, I shall decline.”

Jouslain dismissed Count Elman’s proposal with a light laugh.

“I shall ask you to convey my regards to Fan Hyulick and his men. Tell them I pray for their safe entry into Uraniborg.”

Jouslain’s generosity, which was beyond what could be described by a single word like gentlemanly, seemed to have provoked Count Elman’s suspicion. The Count persistently searched Jouslain’s expression with eyes narrowed in a seemingly mild manner, but he gained nothing from the effort.

Balamy escorted Count Elman to the Central Spaceport on Jouslain’s behalf. At that time, he had hoped to catch a glimpse of Fan Hyulick’s party, but as that did not come to pass, he returned to the quarters feeling dissatisfied. He completed his report to Jouslain, who was pacing the courtyard lost in thought. It was an early summer afternoon, and under the light of the stars, the greenery was lush, and the very vitality of the plants seemed to emanate a fragrance.

“I feel hesitant to ask such an unprepared question at this late stage, but…”

Balamy plucked up his courage and asked:

“Do you truly intend to fight His Clanner Highness?”

He regretted it immediately after the words left his mouth. He dreaded being thought of as cowardly or indecisive. To express it as accurately as possible, Balamy had simply wanted to hear words of reassurance from Jouslain.

“Lord Balamy, both you and I were born in Uraniborg. In that place, even the mere thought of such things was terrifying. Perhaps it is only because we are now hundreds of light-years away that we are able to contemplate them.”

Jouslain gave a short laugh as he looked back at Balamy.

“I hold no personal grudge against His Clanner Highness. I believe that is precisely why we are able to fight. Both Lord Ariabert and I.”

Balamy felt a flush of shame, thinking how foolish it had been to question his will to fight at such a late stage.

“Not only Count Elman, but even Fan Hyulick’s entire faction managed to escape this planet safely. I am sure you allowed this for a reason, but if you would be so kind, please tell me why.”

“Indeed. If we were to merely employ the traditional methods of the Tytania, there would be no meaning in fighting, nor in victory. I believe it is better that we present a stance that suggests, at least to those outside of Tytania, that some degree of reform can be expected.”

A draft of air swept through, a sudden gust of wind dishevelling Jouslain’s and Balamy’s hair.

“In truth, this is nothing more than a private conflict within Tytania. Or rather, all wars are nothing more than private conflicts, yet even so, they can sometimes possess a certain historical value. By challenging the traditional methods and values of the Tytania this time, only then will this battle acquire a public significance.”

Even if that, too, may be nothing more than an illusion, it can appeal to the frustration lurking beneath the surface of the minds of the majority of citizens, who, while passive, are content with the status quo.

“If outsiders see it that way, our war could gain a great deal of sympathy. There is no need for them to become active allies. Allies are something that increases in number as long as one wins.”

As Jouslain spoke the final part of that sentence, his expression remained indifferent.

Unlike Idris, who remained sequestered within Uraniborg, Jouslain had travelled to various parts of space to handle matters regarding diplomacy, trade, and security. He knew that the passive supporters of Tytania desired some degree of reform and absolute safety. As long as he did not force them to “fight alongside us at the risk of their lives,” they would refrain from harbouring any ill will towards Jouslain and his companions.

“And what of actual combat?”

“Ariabert will win. In a grand, open field battle, there is no one who can defeat him.”

“Yes, I believe so too, but…”

Balamy reserved his full endorsement.

It was a fact that Ariabert had twice allowed Fan Hyulick to make a name for himself. There was every possibility that the latter might use his irregular troops to drive Ariabert to defeat a third time.

“Even so, he cannot annihilate us in a single battle. And it is rather the aftermath that concerns me. Whether Idris can remain at peace while Fan Hyulick and his men accumulate further military exploits is the real question.”

A harsh light dwelled in Jouslain’s eyes. He was a gentleman, but he was also a Tytania nobleman.

There were perfectly sound political reasons why he had turned a blind eye to the escape of Count Elman and Fan Hyulick from Bargash. Jouslain had foreseen that they would enter Uraniborg and become major sources of instability, both militarily and politically. This was not mere expectation, but a prediction. To increase the accuracy of his predictions, Jouslain intended to employ various means in the future.

“Lord Jouslain, they were outlaws from the very beginning. Is there not a risk that they might plot from within to seize Uraniborg?”

“I could not care less what happens inside Uraniborg!”

It was a fierce tone, and for a moment, Balamy caught his breath. He had glimpsed a fragment of the emotions Jouslain had been harbouring for a long time.

“Having left Uraniborg, I realised it anew. That place is neither a castle nor a palace; it is a prison. When you are inside, you are severed from the universe, and you fall into the illusion that the conflicts and conspiracies of one’s own kin reflect the entirety of the human world. Those involved believe it to be the centre of the universe, but it is not. An isolated place of exile, this is the true nature of Uraniborg.”

Jouslain gazed at the small fountain in the modest garden as if it were Uraniborg itself.

“Idris is but a single prisoner left behind in his place of exile. It is only because he remained that we were able to escape.”

“If that is the case, then it seems you shall end up fighting your benefactor.”

It was likely the difference in their evaluations of Uraniborg that prompted such a remark from Balamy. As he had stated previously, Balamy believed Uraniborg to be the source of all authority and power. Perhaps he had harboured an unconscious desire to drive a wedge between himself and Jouslain’s differing perspective.

“Indeed, in the end, I too am a Tytania. Rather than accepting infamy and being killed only to evoke tears of pity from posterity, I choose to defend my rights in the real world. There is no meaning in becoming the protagonist of an epic poem. I shall fight alongside Ariabert and emerge victorious.”

Balamy stared silently at Jouslain’s profile as he spoke in such a detached manner. For no scientific reason, his breathing felt laboured.

“And so, I shall force the retirement of His Clanner Highness Ajman, exile Idris, dismantle Uraniborg, and serve as an aide to Ariabert, the new Clanner. Then, while he and I are still well, we shall peacefully downsize Tytania. It is my desire that Tytania’s future vision be to prosper modestly, as nothing more than an ordinary noble house.”

It was the first time Jouslain had spoken so clearly about his vision. Balamy felt overwhelmed. Although it differed greatly from his own ambitions and designs, hearing it voiced by Jouslain, it felt as though it had already become something nearly established.

Balamy was suddenly seized by a powerful impulse. He could not help but phrase as a question a secret he had once heard during his father’s lifetime. A few seconds of inner conflict passed. He finally succumbed to the impulse.

“Your Grace, do you intend to entrust the Clanner’s throne to Lord Ariabert because you are brothers of the same blood? Please forgive me for such an insolent question.”

“Did you hear this from your father?”

“Y-yes.”

“That was indeed an insolent question, Lord Balamy.”

There was no noticeable change in Jouslain’s voice or expression, yet Balamy could not help but straighten his posture, both in mind and body. With a detached manner, Jouslain cast the heavy truth upon him:

“Ariabert and I are cousins. But at the same time, we are brothers.”

“…?”

“To sum it up, Ariabert’s mother is my mother’s sister. And Ariabert’s father is also my father. On our mothers’ side, we are cousins, but on our fathers’ side, we are brothers. This is the exact truth, Lord Balamy.”

“Then…”

Balamy was rendered speechless. Jouslain’s father had been intimate with two sisters at the same time. Furthermore, these sisters were married to different men. Balamy knew that Ariabert and Jouslain shared a birth month. This meant they had been conceived at almost the same time.

“This is what Tytania is. For the primary objective of ensuring the continuity of blood, even basic human ethics are ignored. I believe that Uraniborg is the symbol of that distorted value system.”

Jouslain fell silent. Possessing no words to utter, Balamy stood on the verge of being frozen in an unbearable silence. It was the lively voice of a young girl that rescued him from those intangible shackles.

“Lord Jouslain, Bal, come and have lunch with us. You can’t fight or study on an empty stomach.”

Watching Princess Lydia running through the green garden, Jouslain smiled at Balamy.

“That Princess is always right. If you sit there brooding with a serious face while hungry, you’ll never reach a proper conclusion. Shall we, at the very least, follow the advice of a sage?”

Jouslain waved in response to the Princess, and a moment later, Balamy followed suit. It was the day before the deadline that Idris Tytania had given to Ariabert and Jouslain, on 19 May, SY 447.

Translator's Notes and References

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