Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2

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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.

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