Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9

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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 His equal competitors had either fallen or withdrawn in rapid succession, and his sole superior was currently hospitalised for medical treatment.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.

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