Tytania:Volume 4

Main characters of the Gale 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.
• Theodora Tytania… Countess.
• Elman Tytania (43 years old)… Diplomat. Count.
• Radmoth Tytania (18 years old)… Idris’ younger brother. Baron.
• Zelpha Tytania (13 years old)… Idris’ younger brother. Baronet.
• Francia… Jouslain’s lady-in-waiting.
• Edna Fredericks… Captain of the Austra. Captain.
• Lydia (11 years old)… Princess of the Kingdom of Elbing. Jouslain’s ward.
• Harsha VI (36 years old)… Emperor of the Vardana Empire. Official ruler.
• Aisha (32 years old)… Empress of the Vardana Empire.

☆ Anti-Tytania Faction

• Fan Hyulick (29 years old)… Former commander of the Euria City Fleet. Tytania’s arch-enemy.
• Lee Shanchen (28 years old)… Commonly known as Doctor Lee. Mastermind of the anti-Tytania faction.
• 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.
• Alan Mahdi (23 years old)… Former lieutenant of the Vardana Imperial Army. Currently on the run.
• Seraphine Coopers… Female soldier of the anti-Tytania faction.

Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest

I

In any era and in any region, it seemed that authority and power were symbolised by massive structures. There always existed a backlash against such things, and aphorisms were born from them. For instance, during the year SY 447, the following ironical remark was whispered:

“Let those who hate Tytania live in Uraniborg. There, they shall be spared from seeing the objects that symbolise the might of Tytania.”

It was not particularly a unique maxim. Some even claimed it had existed since the era of the pyramids. In any event, the stronghold of the Tytania Clan, known as Uraniborg, was currently appearing before the eyes of Fan Hyulick, Doctor Lee, Miranda, and her husband. Though “before their eyes” was a stretch, as it was a thousand kilometres away. Set against the backdrop of a universe resembling silver sand scattered across a dark cloth, the home planet of the Vardana Empire looked down below—if one could call it that through mere sensation—like a jade gemstone.

“Is that Uraniborg?”

Everyone thought the same thing, though none spoke it aloud. There was no need for words, nor did anyone seem capable of producing any clever remark.

“A mere bauble floating in space.”

That was how the second Landless Clanner, Nuri Tytania, had once disparagingly described his own castle; one wondered how he would have reacted had someone else called it such.

A disc-shaped artificial stratum measuring fifty-two and a half kilometres in diameter. A transparent canopy spanning twelve layers. Fourteen military satellites circled the perimeter of this colossal celestial city. It had been approaching two centuries since its construction, yet its management and maintenance had, of course, never been neglected, and no armed force had ever successfully challenged it.

Hyulick let out a sigh, keeping both hands thrust deep in his pockets, and lightly tapped his forehead against the viewing window. Doctor Lee, who stood to his left, spoke up.

“It is just like the Great Wall of ancient times. It is almost impossible to capture through purely military attacks from the outside. The only option would be to exploit internal corruption and division to slip inside the ring of military satellites.”

“Corruption and division, huh?…”

Hyulick let out an airless mutter. At present, the Tytania Clan appeared to be fractured. There was the Landless Clanner Ajman, the head of the clan, and Idris, acting in his stead. Against them, both Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain had raised their banners in rebellion, expressing their intent to resist through military force.

Thus, the universe lost its axis of fundamental order. Somewhere, something had gone wrong, for the Blaze Flag Army, which until yesterday had been hunted as a public enemy of the Tytania, found itself being invited to Uraniborg, the very heart of the Tytania.

It was Count Elman Tytania who had, to some extent, unravelled this confusion and brought things to the current state of affairs. Until now, he had been regarded as more or less harmless and useless within his clan, but he was beginning to attract attention as the individual capable of establishing diplomatic and manipulative channels between the “Blaze Flag Army Heretic Group” and Tytania.

The spacecraft Honest Old Man Junior, carrying the heretics of the Blaze Flag Army, entered the ring-shaped barrier formed by fourteen military satellites. Communication waves leapt between it and Uraniborg, and the shabby-looking spacecraft travelled halfway around Uraniborg towards the spaceport.

“I wonder how we must look to the people living their daily lives inside Uraniborg,” remarked Miranda. Seraphine Coopers responded, lightly tugging on her own white earlobe. “The people living beneath those lights won’t even notice a ship like this.”

“Hahaha, you might be right.”

“It looks like they’re going to let us in through the main entrance.”

Alan Mahdi stroked his chin and frowned. His palm felt rough. He hadn’t expected to be welcomed by beautiful women clutching bouquets, but he thought to himself that he really should have tidied himself up.

The docking proceeded smoothly and concluded without any issues. As far as the crew of the Honest Old Man Junior could tell, both the facilities and the control systems were perfect.

“Well, I suppose it’s passable.”

As Miranda offered her pretentious assessment, wry smiles flickered around her. Along the way here, they had been repeatedly reminded of just how much of “country bumpkins” they were.

That, without a doubt, was typical Tytania “hospitality”. With that thought, the group stepped off the mobile lift and onto the artificial earth of Uraniborg. A moment later, they realised they were surrounded by dozens of men clad in Tytania military uniforms, weapons at the ready.

The sudden turn of events was blatant. Just as Doctor Lee coldly scanned the cluster of gun barrels and was about to say something, a woman’s scream erupted from among the men.

“I am the mother of Zarlisch and Arses! I am Duchess Theresa Tytania!”

The voice was excessively high-pitched, slicing through the air like a poisoned dagger. It was an unpleasant sound, but for Hyulick and the others, it presented a far greater problem. To her, Hyulick and his companions were the enemies of her sons and the targets of her hatred.

“That is a death sentence proclamation.”

Doctor Lee nodded, crossing his arms. It seemed the sarcasm he had been about to utter had vanished into another dimension.

“Do not presume that death will come easily to you.”

Poison oozed through the cracks of her elegant phrasing. Even her opulent dress could not conceal her excess weight or the distorted lines of her body, and her exposed face resembled that of a predator. She took a step towards her sworn enemy, raising a hand with lengthened claws. At that moment, something stood between her and her foe. A holographic image displayed the face of a young Tytania noble.

“Duchess.”

The young noble’s voice carried the weight of an active volcano in the dead of winter. Snow and ice cold-pressed the crater shut, yet should the lava burst forth, the searing heat would surely consume everything.

“What a wretched deed you have committed. Have you no shame? Do you truly wish for it to be said that Tytania ambushed its guests?”

Doctor Lee, who had been waiting for the opportune moment, bowed and addressed the image on the screen, ignoring Lady Theresa as she gasped for breath in vain.

“I presume I am addressing His Grace the Duke Idris Tytania. We of the Blaze Flag Army take the liberty of lodging a formal protest to the legitimate leadership of Tytania.”

Idris directed a sharpened gaze towards Doctor Lee. He had reacted to the adjective “legitimate”.

Receiving Idris’ silent, piercing stare, Doctor Lee continued:

“We have come here to Uraniborg at the request of Count Elman Tytania. We did so of our own free will. We shall not presume to claim that we are guests. However, our safety has been guaranteed by His Lordship the Count…”

The individual whose name had been called spoke up, struggling to suppress their agitation and tension:

“T-that is correct, Duke. Once a guarantee has been made in the name of Tytania, their lives are, upon my honour…”

“Count Elman, there is no need for you to interject. I understand very well.”

Theresa’s voice overlapped with Idris’. It was a voice that seemed to loom over, crush, and shatter, as if to trample the very fragments into the dust.

“Their personal safety!? I shall not permit such a thing, I will not! I will never let this rogue live after he caused the death of my precious, my precious Arses. He shall regret ever being born… even if he wails and begs for mercy…”

Theresa stepped forward, foam gathering at the corners of her mouth.

“Duchess!”

Idris’ voice struck a second time, like a searing, formless spear, piercing the heart of Duchess Theresa Tytania. Beneath her weathered skin, the muscles of the Duchess’ face surged and twitched. Showing no sign of caring, Idris declared:

“Duchess, to move troops at your own whim without even the permission of His Clanner Highness is utterly outrageous. I suggest you consider the possibility that you may be charged with treason.”

The Duchess gasped. Her full bosom heaved deeply. Soon after, her voice erupted, more turbulent and undulating than her chest:

“Treason? M-me? Treason?! To whom do you speak, Idris? I am the mother of Zarlisch. I am Tytania within Tytania!”

“I am well aware.”

“Then observe proper etiquette. Restrain your tongue.”

“I am restraining it. However, even that has its limits. As a noble of the highest rank within Tytania, you must set an example for those of lower station.”

Idris swiftly shifted his gaze to look upon the middle-aged nobleman, who stood there looking disgruntled.

“Count Elman, please escort our guests to their respective guest rooms. And…”

II

Idris’ voice took on a chilling tone.

“Escort the Duchess back to her original room. Do so with due respect, and ensure there are no oversights.”

Duchess Theresa Tytania had been moved from her original residence to a special suite. It was a room attended by a dozen people, including doctors, nurses, and guards. It was equipped with cameras, microphones, and reinforced double doors. A suite meant for her alone.

How, then, did she manage to leave that room? Furthermore, she had not gone alone but had emerged leading a platoon of armed soldiers. On top of that, how had she possibly learned that Fan Hyulick, the man responsible for the deaths of her two sons, had arrived at Uraniborg?

An unpleasant swirl of suspicion gathered in Idris’ mind. As the representative of Clanner Ajman and one of the former Four Dukes, he held full authority over Uraniborg. At least, that was how he presented himself to others. Yet, out of Idris’ knowledge, an unsightly disturbance had occurred. A flash of fury streaked across Idris’ handsome, youthful face.

What he actually did, however, was merely to gaze at Count Elman Tytania’s face in silence. After taking a single deep breath, Count Elman introduced the officers of the Blaze Flag Army who stood to his left and right. First was Fan Hyulick.

It was this carrot-haired youth before his eyes who had defeated Ariabert on two separate occasions. Even knowing this fact, it was somewhat difficult for Idris to accept.

Tytania placed great importance on dignity. It was said that this had originally arisen from the necessity to intimidate and subdue various nations, including those who harboured resentment. However, as the years passed and its effectiveness grew, it became an inherent trait, so much so that for Idris’ generation, it was almost indistinguishable from instinct.

“To have been defeated by someone so lacking in dignity… Ariabert truly lacked competence. He possesses the bearing of someone who will, at best, remain a mere field officer.”

Though he thought this spitefully, Idris, as expected, did not cross the line and went no further in disparaging Hyulick. Had Hyulick possessed a dignified appearance, it would have been just as irritating. The monster known as self-esteem was always a selfish thing.

As for Fan Hyulick, he found himself inadvertently admiring Idris’ youthful beauty.

“It seems Duke Idris tries to be a fair leader, at least when he has the necessity and the leisure. Though I cannot say for sure what will happen after he becomes Clanner.”

While Doctor Lee thought this, Hyulick himself mused:

“Even if he doesn’t become the Lord of Tytania, he could certainly make a living on his face alone. There is no need to overexert himself against the likes of Ariabert and Jouslain. One-on-one might be different, but in a two-on-one, his chances of winning are slim.”

Those were his thoughts. Since he could not make a living on his looks alone, his thought was roughly eighty percent mere resentment.

Doctor Lee was almost correct, but as he was not a god, he could not be one hundred percent right. While Idris had felt the need to conduct himself as a fair leader, the truth was that he simply had no such luxury. In order to concentrate the power of Tytania solely within himself, he had to subjugate the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain; yet, at the same time, he could not leave Uraniborg if he were to secure the person of the Clanner, Ajman.

Even setting aside the fact that he had forgotten past events and had taken the Blaze Flag Army in as mercenaries, one had to wonder if their loyalties could be fully trusted when the decisive battle finally arrived. If the pirates were to stir up an insurrection within Uraniborg, it would be an unbearable catastrophe.

“… Idris! Idris! Release me at once! Have you no shame? Learn some decency…!”

The screams of Duchess Theresa Tytania as she was being carried away brought Idris back to reality. Beneath his mask of composure, Idris suppressed a wry smile. An unbearable situation had already begun to unfold. If the pirates forgot their place, he decided, he would simply have to punish them.

It was a room of ridiculous luxury. As a commoner by birth, regardless of his lineage, Fan Hyulick could think of no other word than “luxurious” to describe it. In truth, the room consisted of three sections: a living area, a bedroom, and a bathroom, and each was far more spacious than the crew’s mess on the Honest Old Man Junior.

He sat at the marble table, yet he found it impossible to settle himself. Peering into the bedroom, he saw a bed nearly three metres in both width and length, complete with a canopy. It was made of dark purple silk embroidered with gold thread, and its style was apparently Persian. To be fair, Hyulick had no idea whether Persia was the name of a planet or a person. For the time being, he simply sprawled out on the bed.

“A bed this huge doesn’t exactly look like the kind I could sleep in.”

“There are things we can use it for besides sleeping, you know.”

Since she had said it so lightly, Hyulick found himself nodding before hurriedly sitting up. Someone had entered his room without permission.

“Seraphine, how did you…”

The young woman wearing a sun visor replied:

“It means we are officially recognised by mighty Tytania. Quite an honour, isn’t it?”

“… So, you’re saying we’re sharing a room?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I’ll just sleep on the sofa in the living room.”

“T-that’s the wrong way around. I’ll be the one sleeping on the sofa.”

Seraphine seemed to let out a little chuckle.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter. Since Tytania went to such trouble to be considerate, why not just be magnanimous? It’s not like they think we’re saints, anyway.”

Seraphine tossed her bag onto the floor and leapt onto the bed with great energy. Her entire body bounced. Her smiling face looked even more childish than expected, and as Hyulick gave a wry smile, a half-length bust of a figure appeared in midair, accompanied by a perfectly businesslike voice.

“Do you have a moment, Fan?”

“There’s no such thing as having or not having a moment. They’re doing whatever they please with interceptions, eavesdropping, and hidden cameras anyway.”

When Hyulick responded with such carelessness, Doctor Lee shook his head without changing his expression.

“My view differs somewhat. In that regard, Tytania possesses a certain magnanimity. They likely have no intention of inciting unnecessary resentment by spying on the privacy of people like us. Firstly, it would be beneath their dignity. Tytania is not so cheap.”

Clutching a massive feathered pillow, Seraphine burst into laughter. Hyulick ran a hand through his hair.

“So, what is this all about, Doctor?”

A minute later, the three of them were actually face-to-face in the living room. Doctor Lee explained that the guards standing in the corridor merely had pistols hanging from their waists, then he crossed his legs on the sofa.

“Well, we owe our lives to Duke Idris.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“In any case, he is our lifesaver.”

“A lifesaver, huh?”

Hyulick cast a quick glance at Seraphine. Seraphine sat with both knees raised, fingers interlaced, and arms wrapped around them.

“So, what you’re saying is, we owe Lord Idris a debt of gratitude.”

“Does that not sit well with you, Fan?”

“I’m grateful, certainly. If that hologram had appeared even three seconds late, there would be no disputing it. We would have been well and truly done for.”

At that, Seraphine interjected:

“I wonder if it was all a piece of theatre from the very beginning.”

“You think Duke Idris was in league with that terrifying woman?”

While the pirates conversed, Duke Idris Tytania was listening to several reports from Count Elman in his office, but his mind was half elsewhere. He had recently received what seemed like a divine revelation, and it had set him thinking.

“There were hostages, after all. What were they for… surely to be used in a situation such as this? Since I have summoned these pirates, I shall let them do what is fitting for them.”

Idris raised a hand, silencing Count Elman as he attempted to continue speaking.

“You have gone to great trouble, Count. By the way, there was a certain country that Jouslain seemed strangely preoccupied with. Do you remember which one?”

“Are you referring to the Kingdom of Elbing?”

“That is correct.”

“However, the princess of that land, Princess Lydia if I recall correctly, is already in Duke Jouslain’s custody.”

“I have no intention of laying hands on such a young girl. But as long as the Kingdom of Elbing itself remains part of Jouslain’s sphere of influence, I cannot simply leave it be.”

Count Elman cast a bewildered look at Idris. Idris curled the right corner of his mouth into a slight smirk and spoke, his voice laden with much deeper meaning:

“I am looking forward to seeing them demonstrate their loyalty and their ability to command troops.”

After a week of their stay in Uraniborg, which had begun to resemble that of tourists, the executives of the Blaze Flag Army were summoned to Idris’ office.

III

“I order you to… No, I request of you to depart from Uraniborg immediately at the head of a mobile fleet and attack the Kingdom of Elbing.”

There was no dramatic reaction to Idris’ overbearing words. While Fan Hyulick was certainly taken by surprise, he was not shaken. Being an outsider to Tytania, he had no way of knowing the relationship between Jouslain and Princess Lydia. Consequently, he did not understand what Idris’ “request” meant strategically.

“The Elbing army shall be disbanded, and no maintenance of military force shall be permitted. As for the King of Elbing… well, what was his name again? I had no need to remember, so I do not, but he shall be forced to abdicate immediately. Elbing shall be granted only the freedom to choose between becoming a republic or a full protectorate.”

At that moment, Idris held a psychological advantage over both Fan Hyulick and Doctor Lee. Idris knew things that the Blaze Flag Army did not. Doctor Lee’s cunning and insight were also predicated upon having information.

“Back then, it displeased me to see that fellow Jouslain siding with the Kingdom of Elbing. However, looking back now, he had exposed an unexpected weakness. There is nothing better to exploit.”

Idris was able to fully savour the psychological state of self-satisfaction. However, he maintained a cold, detached expression throughout. Meanwhile, Hyulick and his companions were made to understand in an instant that they had reached a point where refusal was no longer an option.

There was, however, a lingering doubt. The Kingdom of Elbing was not a strategic cosmic stronghold like Bargash or Ementhal. Neither Hyulick nor Doctor Lee could fathom why someone would launch an attack against a mere backwater, impoverished planet like Elbing.

“Might we ask the reason for this attack?”

“That is none of your concern,” declared coldly Idris.

His intent was to remind them of their station; there was no need to reveal the true purpose behind the assault on Elbing.

“I shall leave the command of the fleet entirely in your hands. Your merits shall be justly rewarded. That alone should suffice.”

“What if…”

“What if?”

“What if the Kingdom of Elbing offers to surrender without a fight? Should we accept it?”

“No!”

Idris’ voice sounded as though he were almost relishing his own ruthlessness. Fan Hyulick realised that he had underestimated Idris, and he felt a rapid swell of anxiety rising within him. Was this man trying to involve them in some terrible atrocity? But just what kind of atrocity could it be?

“Whether Elbing chooses to surrender or to resist, no consideration is owed to their movements. Whatever they propose, ignore it and attack them.”

Doctor Lee, who had been observing Idris with more composure than Hyulick, spoke up:

“Are you suggesting we turn the entire planet of Elbing into a scorched wasteland?”

“If you are able to do so, yes.”

An eerie light shone in Idris’ eyes. Miranda began to move her large, yet well-proportioned body. Just before she could do anything, Doctor Lee stopped her indirectly with a voice that was far too calm:

“If that is your command, we shall comply.”

Doctor Lee once again rephrased Idris’ choice of the word “request” back into “command”.

“That will suffice. However, there is one more thing.”

Idris’ tone and expression did not change.

“I shall place my brother Radmoth by your side as a military supervisor.”

When Idris made that statement, the executives of the Blaze Flag Army tensed, thinking, “Here it comes.” The name Radmoth Tytania carried the omen of danger.

“Of course, this is not because I do not trust you as allies.”

Even if he trusted no one listening, Idris felt the need to say so.

“My brother is inexperienced and lacks both prudence and experience.”

That much was a fact.

“Therefore, I wish to have him accompany you on your campaign, to gain experience in actual combat, and to learn the true meaning of battle and command. It is a necessary step for my brother’s future, as well as for Tytania.”

“I understand the intent of your request. However, Your Grace Idris, why entrust this to us rather than doing it yourself?”

“With family, one inevitably becomes too lenient. With the senior officers of the old Tytania, hesitation would always come first. That would not benefit my brother. I want him to, well, undergo his training, so to speak, under your command.”

Idris seemed to be enjoying the mental image of how much Radmoth’s brutish fangs would perplex Hyulick.

“What say you? Will the gentlemen of the Blaze Flag Army accept my proposal?”

His words and actions were polite, yet beneath them lay something that struck terror into the hearts of men. Was this what it meant to be the true nobility among the Tytania aristocracy? Although it was only a superficial sensation, Fan Hyulick felt as though he had brushed against a core of absolute zero.

It was Doctor Lee who responded to Idris:

“I consider it the height of honour to have Your Ducal Grace’s trust.”

“Then, do I have your word?”

“We humbly accept your request.”

“Very well. It appears this has been a mutually beneficial discussion.”

As Idris looked satisfied, Doctor Lee continued:

“However, I do have one small request of my own.”

“And what might that be?”

“Would it be possible for me to be granted an audience with His Highness, the Landless Clanner Ajman?”

Idris knitted his well-shaped brows slightly. He had no intention of allowing Hyulick and the others to meet directly with the Clanner. He simply needed to choose his words carefully:

“His Highness is currently indisposed.”

“When might he be available?”

“That will be at His Highness’ own discretion. For the time being, I, Idris, was asked to handle all matters as His Highness’ proxy.”

“I understand.”

Doctor Lee withdrew quite readily. A glint of suspicion flashed in Idris’ eyes, but he, too, found dragging out the conversation to be a nuisance.

“The fleet’s organisation has already been completed, but I expect you and your men will need to make preparations as well. Set your departure for three days from now, and until then, have your rest.”

Upon leaving Idris’ room, Fan Hyulick and Doctor Lee looked at one another. An argument immediately broke out:

“What does Lord Idris stand to gain by bullying a small, backwater kingdom like Elbing?”

“Most likely nothing.”

“In that case…”

“Rather than a gain for Duke Idris, it is a loss for both Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain. This is how you should think of it. If Elbing were to be attacked, it would cause trouble for Duke Ariabert’s group.”

“Why would it cause trouble?”

“There are things even I do not understand.”

Normally, such a remark would be an expression of humility, but for some reason, it sounded boastful, likely due to Doctor Lee’s particular brand of “personal virtue”.

The colour remained flushed in Miranda’s face, and she showed no sign of retreating for a while. It was certain that she was enraged by Idris’ heartless order, but since Doctor Lee had engaged with it, she was now preoccupied with wondering what the tactician was planning.

The tactician exchanged hushed words with Hyulick and Seraphine. Then they continued from where they had left off:

“Even if Duke Idris is allied with Duchess Theresa Tytania, do they truly share such deep interests? To put it another way, what benefit would Duchess Theresa Tytania gain by playing along with Duke Idris’ drama?”

“… I can’t quite think of anything at the moment.”

“For the time being, I am in the same position.”

Doctor Lee shifted his gaze to look at Miranda. Miranda gave a shrug of her sturdy shoulders, let out a silent laugh, and turned back to Hyulick.

“Let’s set that matter aside for now. There is a more pressing and headache-inducing problem facing us immediately.”

“Are you referring to Baron Radmoth?”

“I am,” she curtly replied.

Alan Mahdi lowered his voice:

“It might be tolerable if he were merely monitoring us, but it is obvious he will try to meddle in our operations.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You don’t mind?”

Hyulick glared at him, but Doctor Lee responded with total composure:

“If we lose, we can always blame the Baron.”

“Do you intend to lose!?”

“Even if I intended to win, there is no guarantee that I will.”

“…”

“Or do you possess enough confidence to claim victory even if the opponent were Duke Ariabert? It is true that you have achieved two consecutive wins, but your good fortune is bound to run out soon enough.”

Hyulick groaned. Even so, this was undoubtedly a mild observation by Doctor Lee’s standards. Hyulick was well aware that both of his victories left room for the accusation that they were “cheap shots”. He repeatedly ran his fingers through his carrot-coloured hair. The guard standing along the corridor wall knitted his brows.

Fan Hyulick possessed a flaw that could prove fatal for a commander. Only two or three people in the entire universe were aware of it.

The flaw, which he himself was finally beginning to realise, was that he “never fought under a position of strength”.

Having defeated Duke Ariabert Tytania on two separate occasions, everyone had been dazzled by his brilliance, leading people to regard him as the greatest tactician in the universe. Rather than feeling full of confidence, Hyulick felt nothing but bewilderment and distress. At a glance, this might have made him appear to be a man of great humility, but that was certainly not the case; he simply loathed the idea of being crushed by the weight of such immense responsibility. He merely wished to live a leisurely, mundane life while enjoying his favourite omelettes. Even as an egoist, he was not a man of particularly great magnanimity.

IV

It was a situation that only served to highlight the Creator’s irony—or rather, his malice. Although the soldiers and officers of Tytania understood the meaning behind the invasion of the Kingdom of Elbing, those in positions of command, such as Hyulick and his gang, were kept in the dark. The troops of Uraniborg had no obligation to kindly reveal the truth to the Blaze Flag Army. Had they attempted to do so, Idris would undoubtedly have noticed, and they would have been executed for violating military discipline.

“I wonder if Count Elman might tell us,” thought Hyulick, but Count Elman had met with them only once and was not well-versed in the internal affairs of Uraniborg.

“I have no idea whether such military action is permissible or not. If Lord Idris were a slightly more approachable man, I would like to ask him. But as for this matter, I must ask that you do not rely on me. My apologies.”

That final remark seemed to demonstrate Count Elman’s cunning. While Hyulick and the others felt dissatisfied, it was an undeniable fact that Count Elman’s rank was lower than Idris’ and that he held no authority regarding military mobilisation, so there was no benefit in blaming him. Since his promise to “guarantee safety until we reach Uraniborg” was being upheld, they felt they had no right to demand more or to protest loudly.

“If you happen to learn anything, we would be grateful if you could inform us within the bounds of what your position as Count allows.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

Count Elman parted ways with the group with great skill. By avoiding any firm commitments and ensuring no binding words were taken, he was effectively securing his own safety. The members of the Blaze Flag Army were well aware of this, and they saw no need to go out of their way to sever the thread of his life simply because they were dissatisfied.

“It seems we shall need to consider this a little further,” said Doctor Lee. “Lord Idris has made a grand announcement regarding the dispatch of troops to the Kingdom of Elbing. That is the problem.”

His “students” leaned in to listen.

“Since it has been announced so publicly, the matter now falls within the realm of political strategy. Had it been conducted in secret, it would be for the time being a purely military objective, but…”

The Doctor traced the trajectory of his own thoughts.

“Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain will come rushing to the rescue of the Kingdom of Elbing. It is because of that certainty that Duke Idris issued such orders to us. If that happens, well, what shall we do?”

“We could deploy even more troops to pincer the Ariabert-Jouslain army…”

“Now, should we perform a pincer movement, or merely use them as a decoy and discard them?”

As Doctor Lee interlaced his fingers behind his head, one of his “students” leaned forward:

“Let’s run away.”

At Alan Mahdi’s blunt suggestion, Miranda, the former princess, responded coldly:

“Where to?”

“Anywhere! Anywhere beyond the reach of Uraniborg.”

“I ask again. Where to?”

Mahdi could not answer Miranda’s follow-up question. Miranda gave Mahdi’s shoulder a firm pat before turning her gaze towards the Doctor.

“I doubt escaping would be that simple, Doctor, but you don’t intend to just leave things as they are, do you? I’ll tell you this much: I hold no grudge against Elf… no, was it Elbing? I hold no grudge against that nation.”

Even Miranda, who had traversed the fringes of the universe piloting the battle-hardened veteran ship, the Honest Old Man, could not clearly recall the name of the Kingdom of Elbing. It was a fact that everyone struggled to grasp: how such a small nation could possibly serve as leverage for intimidating Duke Jouslain or Duke Ariabert.

“Even the smallest of nations has a million or two million people living in it. To attack them indiscriminately is to become a mass murderer. Hyulick, are you really alright with that?”

As the man obsessed by omelettes remained silent, the graduate of the Demon Academy answered in his stead:

“Miranda, as I have told you before, Fan Hyulick is a genius.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“Well, listen to me, Miranda. He is a genius, but unfortunately, he is not the type to shape the situation. He is, so to speak, the type to react to it. It is quite a problem.”

Doctor Lee scratched behind his left ear with a fingertip, making his lofty remarks in a self-important tone.

“This man cannot manifest his genius unless he is driven into a corner. He has defeated the Tytanian forces on three separate occasions, but that was only because his opponents were Duke Ariabert and Duke Zarlisch. If Hyulick were to suffer a defeat, I suspect it would be at the hands of an unexpectedly mediocre commander.”

When Doctor Lee fell silent, the stillness filled the room like heavy, damp sand. Miranda broke the silence with a hint of anxiety in her voice:

“I wish you would be a little more direct. I think your assessment is accurate, Doctor, but we are already in a desperate situation. Isn’t it about time Hyulick provided us with some wisdom?”

“No, we are not there yet. We are indeed surrounded, but as Mahdi said, the possibility of escape is not yet zero. Hyulick must be driven even further into a corner.”

“Just how much further do I have to be cornered!?” shouted Hyulick.

No matter how tight the security was, there was always a chance for scraps of conversation from the Tytania soldiers to slip into one’s ears. However, at the present moment, there was nothing to make the members of the Blaze Flag Army feel optimistic.

… What are we fighting for?

It’s obvious: we are fighting for Tytania.

But our commander is Fan Hyulick!

And furthermore, our enemies are both Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain.

It doesn’t make sense.

It’s as if our enemies and allies have been inverted…

The emotions overflowing within the hearts of the soldiers rained down upon Hyulick and Doctor Lee like silent stones. They had been prepared for this, but that did not make the impact any less painful. It was as though Hyulick and the others could sense even the pain that lay in the future.

“What would happen if Ariabert or Jouslain called for the Tytania soldiers to surrender on the battlefield? Wouldn’t the muzzles of their heatguns all turn to surround us at once?”

This time, Mahdi’s voice was more than merely gloomy.

Hyulick let out a sigh.

“There is no reason for the Tytania soldiers to risk their lives for us. I feel as though I, too, might die on the battlefield, struck down by artillery from behind.”

“There is no need to be quite so pessimistic.”

Doctor Lee replied coldly, though he fully intended to reassure his comrades.

“There is absolutely no reason for the Tytanian soldiers to stake their lives for us. Not a single milligram. Zero.”

“Thank you ever so much for that.”

“However, they will not hesitate to endure any hardship or difficult battle for the sake of Tytania’s Clanner. That is how they have been trained, and their families’ livelihoods are guaranteed after their deaths. They are not a mere rabble. The only major problem this time is that they are not being led by Lord Zarlisch or Lord Ariabert. Should the right catalyst occur, there is a possibility their muzzles could be turned towards us.”

“If that happens, shall we simply force them into hand-to-hand combat?”

“If these are your orders, Commander…”

“Phew. I’m counting on you, Doctor. I am well aware this is a terrible joke.”

The Doctor cast a pale gaze towards Hyulick.

“Our total strength stands at two hundred and twenty-nine, while the Tytania side has approximately fifty thousand. What does the calculation look like for hand-to-hand combat?”

“I understand, I know, sorry Doctor. I won’t say anything unnecessary again. Please, let me hear your thoughts.”

“That matters little, but I do not understand why this so-called Kingdom of Elbing has been targeted. That is what I find disagreeable.”

The Doctor’s finger moved across the screen of the handheld terminal.

“The Kingdom of Elbing possesses no significant military strength. At least not as far as I am aware. They have neither battleships nor aircraft carriers. They did purchase three medium cruisers from Tytania about ten years ago, but those represent the extent of their arsenal.”

“The latest models?”

“At that point, they are already second-hand. Furthermore, the loan payments were made in instalments.”

“Haaa,” exhaled Hyulick. The universe was vast. There were nations far more dreary than his own.

“And there is one more ‘moreover’.”

“There’s still more?”

“The loan itself went temporarily delinquent.”

“How tragic.”

Mahdi’s voice held a note of genuine sincerity, but his expression suddenly shifted. As if something had suddenly occurred to him, his voice rose.

“Hey, don’t tell me the Kingdom of Elbing was targeted because of those missed loan payments. That would be going too far.”

Doctor Lee gave a slight shrug.

“It is not admirable to think only in terms of yourself. Tytania is not that unscrupulous. In fact, if such a reputation were to be spread, it would affect their prestige.”

“Prestige, eh? That is a concept I have no connection to.”

“Life is easier without it. Regardless, the reason the Kingdom of Elbing is being targeted is something else entirely. It is not as if Duke Idris just pulled a random card.”

“What kind of card?”

“A joker, of course.”

The Doctor’s reply was devoid of even a hint of a smile.

V

For the four days leading up to the “subjugation” of the Kingdom of Elbing, the members of the Blaze Flag Army spent their days in a state of unrest.

Doctor Lee endeavoured to learn the state of the Kingdom of Elbing’s finances. Had he succeeded, he might have reached the truth in one fell swoop, but whether it was people or machines, the Tytania’s guard was too tight, and the Doctor’s efforts proved fruitless.

Hyulick had been escaping into a slovenly state of alcoholism.

Was this not a massive trap devised by Tytania?

The needles of suspicion repeatedly pricked at Hyulick’s brain cells; no matter what fine vintage he rolled across his tongue, it felt like nothing more than cheap swill.

Was it not a plan to lull the Anti-Tytania Faction into a false sense of security by feigning internal conflict? Yet, he could not fathom any reason for such a move.

Doubt stripped away its mantle of common sense and donned the garish, colourful costume of delusion, flitting erratically around the edges of Hyulick’s mind.

“In such a state, even if I were to make you the finest omelette, I doubt you would even be able to taste it.”

Seraphine Coopers spoke to him with sternness, but Hyulick merely slumped there, rubbing his stomach.

“Stop talking about omelettes and steaks. It makes my stomach acid boil.”

“I’m appalled. At this rate, eggs will start cracking in your dreams and wine will start flowing from your ears. What do you intend to do once the Tytania matter is settled?”

“I’ll open an omelette shop and live a humble life in some corner of the universe.”

“What a small-minded man.”

“Exactly. It’s not as if you didn’t know.”

Perhaps the reason she pushed away the glass, which was not yet empty, was that she felt at least a bit ashamed as she spoke.

The majority of all mankind never leave their home planet from birth until death. Much less would they be granted even a one-in-ten-thousand chance to lay eyes upon Uraniborg. Hyulick, too, was meant to have spent his life merely interacting with Tytania’s branch offices at most.

And yet, look at him now.

Seraphine’s palm began to stroke Hyulick’s back, albeit somewhat awkwardly. As she did, Hyulick found himself recalling the face of a girl he had once met, only to part ways with her against his will. If only he had acted differently back then…

The possibilities were endless. The thought brought on a headache. Before he knew it, his glass was empty. Hyulick rested both arms on the table and buried his face upon them.

Well, let it be. Or rather, it couldn’t be helped. No matter how large the scale became, it was merely an internal conflict within the Tytania Clan. The victor would go on to hold the clan’s true power and continue to dominate most of the universe. It was none of his concern.

Even on the journey to the Kingdom of Elbing, there was no certain way to predict what might happen next.

Idris Tytania had succeeded in mystifying the members of the Blaze Flag Army, but he had no leisure to enjoy it. The administrative tasks that required processing and the issues that required decisions were devouring his time like insects. For instance, they were as the follows:

“A voter turnout of 65.9%, is it?”

“It was approximately 2% higher than my prediction. I believe we may call this a success.”

“A success? It means that thirty-four out of every hundred people find even the simple act of pressing a voting button at home to be a burden. What is the point of granting voting rights to such people?”

Idris thought that it might be more efficient to dispatch talented administrators trained in Tytania and rotate them periodically.

“The political system is a matter of each planet’s autonomous choice. This has been the policy since the time of the first His Highness Neville, and I believe it holds its own significance.”

“Hm?”

“It is about making the inhabitants aware of two points: that they are sovereign in political matters and that they possess the freedom to implement that sovereignty through their own will.”

“Both are nothing more than illusions,” scoffed Idris.

“That is correct. However, whether they be illusions or fantasies, as long as they serve the interests of Tytania, I believe there is value in continuing democratic governance within certain states, however circuitous the path may be.”

“I see.”

Idris nodded and dismissed Donald Farah, but he was not truly convinced. On the contrary, he felt a surge of irritation as he perceived the emptiness within Farah’s highly plausible words. Farah was no statesman; he was nothing more than an election technician. That was precisely why he could serve as a mere cog in the machinery of an institution beneficial to Tytania.

That same Farah was currently stationed on the planet Bargash, where he ought to have been serving as Jouslain’s political aide. It was not that Idris cared about the movements of such a man, but had he been at Uraniborg, Idris could have burdened him with various trivial tasks. There were also those at Uraniborg who served only to increase Idris’ burdens. His younger brother Radmoth was one such person.

“Brother.”

“What is it this time?”

“If that Fan Hyulick ever tries to harm Tytania, I’ll kill him. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Obviously not,” is what Idris did not reply, his cold gaze tinged with a trace of suspicion.

“This guy intends to kill Hyulick without hesitation and then seize command of the fleet for himself, doesn’t he?”

Though it was an appointment he had made himself, every time he looked at his brother’s face, he felt the seeds of anxiety beginning to grow.

“Your mission is strictly to monitor and restrain. You are only to watch and ensure that Hyulick and his faction do not act as they please. I will be the one to make the decision. Do not overstep your bounds.”

“Even if Hyulick shows overt signs of rebellion? He is not someone to be underestimated, is he? What will you do if he strikes first?”

Idris’ handsome mouth twisted subtly.

“Even if Hyulick turns his spear against us, every soldier is Tytania’s elite. Who would ever obey his orders?”

“Do you believe the soldiers will not follow Hyulick?”

“That is exactly what I am saying!”

When Idris spoke, his voice rising in intensity, he was met with an unexpected response.

“Then, in that event, whose orders are the soldiers to follow?”

“… What?”

“No need to glare at me, brother. I am merely raising a natural question as a military inspector.”

Instead of changing his expression, Idris shifted his posture, leaning his elbows on the desk to look down at his younger brother.

“Radmoth, you have become strangely pedantic.”

“I am not being pedantic. I am merely asking for the facts. Even if Hyulick does not betray us, he could still fall in battle. In that case, I suppose I would be the one to take command of the entire fleet.”

“You needn’t trouble yourself with such thoughts!”

At last, Idris bellowed. As he stood up from the desk, his gaze tilted slightly upwards. His brother had grown taller than him.

As his anger receded, a sense of helplessness overcame Idris. He wanted Radmoth to be a loyal and capable aide to his brother. Was it too much to ask for such a thing? Could he not, at least occasionally, do something worthy of praise?

“Every single one of them… every single one of them.”

Idris repeated the same words only to himself. To speak them aloud would be nothing more than to sow the seeds of trouble.

“I shall issue orders when necessary. Rather than preparing for contingencies, strive to ensure such situations never arise. Do that, and you shall be rewarded for your merit.”

With those words, Idris dismissed his brother.

Idris was exhausted, but he refused to admit it. Consequently, in the presence of others, he behaved with even greater purpose as the leader of Tytania. He was powerful, severe, and elegant.

That effort only served to exhaust Idris further. He was on the verge of falling into a vicious cycle. Had there been anyone perceptive enough to notice and point it out, Idris would likely have lost his reason.

He sat in a daze for several dozen seconds, but once he regained his senses, he clicked his tongue sharply and struck the desk hard with both hands.

He had to succeed his late father’s will and rule human society as the Clanner of Tytania. It had been his destiny since before he was born, and he had never once questioned his own life or his objectives. In that process, it was only natural that he should eliminate his enemies and rivals.

Zarlisch had already vanished. Only Ariabert and Jouslain remained. If they continued to stay, it would be Idris who would have to disappear. To Idris, the word “coexistence” existed only within the pages of a dictionary.

Chapter 2 – The Nobel “Rebel”

I

“Tytania hereby declares full-scale war against the Kingdom of Elbing.”

When Idris’ declaration was broadcast to the entire universe, it did not, strictly speaking, cause a wave of upheaval throughout human society. After the initial shock, some people simply accepted it, thinking, “Ah, so that is how it is?” However, this was only true for a portion of the inhabitants of Uraniborg; everyone else, from the leaders of the planetary governments to the common people, was left speechless.

“What? How could Tytania declare war on the Kingdom of Elbing of all places? It is like an elephant picking a fight with an ant.”

“It must mean that the Kingdom of Elbing was aligned with the Duke Jouslain faction.”

“Yet, surely that would not concern Elbing alone.”

Naturally, something far greater than mere agitation struck the Kingdom of Elbing. They had been breathing a sigh of relief, believing “our nation is now secure” after receiving favour from Duke Jouslain, a member of the unparalleled Tytania’s highest leadership, only to be struck directly by a political and military bolt of lightning. Screams erupted throughout the panic.

“What on earth was the Ministry of Foreign Affairs doing!? If Princess Lydia became favoured by Duke Jouslain, doesn’t it mean that she draw Duke Idris’ hostility in equal measure? Isn’t the net result just zero? No, now that it has come to this, the result is a negative. Why did they not create more options for us?”

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs, of course, offered a rebuttal:

“Why are you complaining only now? When the Princess came under the protection of Duke Jouslain, did the entire government not rejoice? We all said that Elbing was finally secure.”

“Even so, was the failure to prepare alternatives not the negligence of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs? We should have established friendly relations with Duke Idris as well.”

“That is easier said than done. Besides, with what budget are we to fund such ventures? Has it even existed!?”

As the conversation turned to matters of finance, both men fell silent, doing nothing more than sighing in concern for Princess Lydia’s grandfather, the King, who lay upon his sickbed.

Neutrality.

At that time, it undoubtedly must have been the most significant proposition within the Milky Way galaxy.

In the fields of politics, military, and economics, human society was divided into two: “Tytania” and “the rest”. Within “the rest” were everything from radical anti-Tytania factions to weak organisations that only engaged based on common sense when necessary, otherwise remaining almost entirely disconnected.

In any case, the one fact that had been clearly recognised was that “Tytania stands united, while the rest doesn’t”. However, now, the glass known as the “order of the universe” had been overturned. Tytania had split apart.

Tytania, which had been inviolable and impregnable.

Now, Tytania had divided into two factions, and the sun they worshipped above their heads had become two. Those of higher rank were so shaken they felt like crying out, “My God!”, but that very God had transformed into “Janus”, leaving them powerless to do anything by human strength.

As for the common folk, some enjoyed irresponsible gossip as mere accompaniment to their drink, taking it all quite lightly, while others clutched their heads, worrying about their future businesses. For the vast majority, whether optimistically or pessimistically, they could not escape the excitement.

Among the scattered remnants of humanity throughout space, there was likely no one whose connection to Tytania was non-existent. There were those directly subordinated to them and those in open rebellion, of course, but the list was far too long to count; it included “people whose acquaintances’ acquaintances belonged to Tytania’s subordinate organisations”, “people dining in restaurants owned by a chain that was a subsidiary of a subsidiary of a subsidiary of Tytania”, “those reshaping deserts under Tytania’s planetary development projects”, and even the “devoted fans of music programmes produced by Tytania”.

Driven by varying degrees of anxiety and curiosity, they could not help but engage in conversation with anyone they knew.

“Either way, isn’t Tytania going to win? We might as well let them carry on as they please.”

“And then, once it’s all over, are we to be condemned as mere opportunists? I wouldn’t be happy about that.”

“Well then, are you in any position to judge who will emerge victorious?”

“Hmph. And I suppose someone like you is capable of making such a judgement?”

“There is no way I could. If I were capable of such a thing, I would have become something like a Tytania merchant fleet captain by now.”

At that moment, the tavern door swung open, and as a soldier clad in a Tytania uniform appeared, the flood of rumours was instantly dammed. The Tytania soldier scanned the interior of the tavern with an unfriendly gaze, occasionally making overbearing remarks such as, “Sounds like an interesting tale; let me hear it too,” but in truth, it was they who were more famished for information. A clever soldier would slip into the tavern in civilian clothes and casually lend an ear to the gossip.

“Regardless of anything else, the difference in military strength between Uraniborg and the Ariabert-Jouslain Alliance is vast. Ten to one—no, perhaps even more. Even if they win a fleet battle or two, the AJ Alliance will lose in the end.”

“There is another way to look at it.”

“What is it?”

“Do you wish to hear it?”

“Stop being so dramatic.”

“The point is, no matter which side we choose in this next battle, it won’t constitute any real resistance against Tytania. ‘History is written by Tytania.’ We can decide when the time comes. Don’t you agree?”

“Even if victory becomes apparent…”

“Then you simply side with them. Tytania only cares about maintaining its dominion over the universe; they aren’t looking to destroy everything. They won’t bother paying attention to every little movement made by insignificant small fry like us.”

“I see. However, if that were the case, I wonder why the most insignificant small fry, the Kingdom of Elbing, was targeted.”

The heated conversations of the people drifted through the far reaches of space, showing no sign of dying down.

Why had the Kingdom of Elbing been targeted?

There were those who knew the exact reason, as well as or even more than Idris did. These were kin who resided on planet Bargash, and they were not allies of Idris, but now his sworn enemies.

Duke Ariabert Tytania.

Duke Jouslain Tytania.

Viscount Balamy Tytania.

Though the third of these was not even within Idris’ consideration. He hardly even bothered to remember him, and even if he did, it would only have been in connection to his feud with Radmoth. He believed that the man was of a sort that would perish alongside Jouslain should the latter fall, and even if he managed to escape, he was not worth pursuing in earnest.

Of course, Balamy could not afford to ignore Idris. This had become especially true since Idris had declared war on Elbing.

Balamy grit his teeth. His previous prediction regarding Princess Lydia had proved utterly mistaken. Idris had no intention of letting go the Kingdom of Elbing. No matter how insignificant it might be. Furthermore, now that it had become clear that the kingdom could serve as a powerful weapon against Ariabert and Jouslain, there was no reason for him to hesitate in using it.

“He will surely be loathed.”

Balamy could not help but sigh.

Would Ariabert and Jouslain submit unconditionally to Idris in order to avoid an attack on the Kingdom of Elbing? Such an option was impossible. Regardless of whatever justification they might have, Ariabert and Jouslain will turn their backs on the Kingdom of Elbing. It would mean abandoning the motherland that Princess Lydia loved so dearly. And Balamy would have no choice but to follow the two dukes. It was this sense of helplessness that drove Balamy to make such an emotional and futile outburst.

“Lord Idris is a coward!”

Jouslain’s reaction was calm:

“I do not believe that Idris is a coward.”

“Lord Jouslain…!”

“If I were Idris, I would likely do the same. I would destroy the Kingdom of Elbing as an example while simultaneously advertising our own ruthlessness in failing to save Elbing. It would be killing two birds with one stone.”

Ariabert also interjected with composure:

“Lord Balamy, this is not a battle for justice. This is carnivores preying upon one another.”

“Is there… no other way?”

“There might be, but I cannot commit suicide alongside Elbing. More importantly, Lord Balamy, can you truly leave Princess Lydia to her fate?”

This was an instruction to leave, as the two dukes intended to confer privately. Suppressing his anxiety and frustration, Balamy withdrew.

“Lord Ariabert, I shall leave all matters of troop deployment to you.”

“There is a problem we must discuss before that. You’ve already said this to Lord Balamy, but could you bring yourself to cast aside the Kingdom of Elbing?”

Ariabert levelled this blunt, unadorned question at Jouslain.

“That’s…”

Jouslain hesitated. His mind was not merely racing with emotion but with political calculation. He could not yet fully predict how the smaller nations would react if he stood by and watched the pitiful destruction of the Kingdom of Elbing.

“Lord Jouslain, I had hoped to see you rendered speechless by a question once, just once, before your death. I did not expect it to come about in this manner.”

Ariabert laughed. Knowing that there was such composure in that laughter, Jouslain felt a sense of relief. Knowing that an ally more reliable than himself existed was infinitely reassuring before the coming battle.

“Now then, I wonder how long we can keep this hidden from Princess Lydia.”

“It is not something that can be kept hidden indefinitely. I have even considered informing her ourselves, but… no, let us leave her be. I would prefer to let events take their course.”

“If that is what you say, Lord Jouslain, then let us do so. To be honest, I would rather focus on the battle than dwell on such matters.”

Jouslain nodded and lightly tapped the surface of the desk with the back of his hand.

“Then do that. I find even commanding ten ships to be difficult. I shall leave all operational command to you, Lord Ariabert, or rather, I am entrusting it to you.”

“If you entrust it to me, I cannot refuse.”

Ariabert responded earnestly, uncrossing his arms and straightening his posture.

“Then I shall take up the task. We shall move the troops towards the direction of the Kingdom of Elbing as soon as possible.”

“Towards Elbing?”

“That is the crucial part. It is quite dull not to be able to take by surprise a clever opponent. Instead, we shall move our troops towards Elbing, then change course midway to strike the expeditionary fleet of Uraniborg directly from their flank and rear.”

Ariabert’s expression was filled with quiet confidence.

“Furthermore, if we win that battle, the prestige of Uraniborg will suffer a significant blow. We can unsettle the opportunists, and as for Idris, we shall leave him foaming at the mouth.”

He intended to utilise the Uraniborg side’s invasion of Elbing as part of the AJ Alliance’s operational manoeuvres. Ariabert had convinced Jouslain that he was not merely a battlefield commander but an exceptional strategist.

A tactical victory as a political triumph. It was a concept Jouslain had not considered. While he had always recognised Ariabert’s military talent, Jouslain realised that he had grown even further.

Of course, at that time, the two dukes did not yet know who the commander of the Uraniborg expeditionary fleet was.

II

“So, how much military force do you intend to mobilise?” asked Jouslain.

It was a natural question for someone tasked with supporting Ariabert’s operations from the rear.

“Twenty thousand ships.”

Jouslain momentarily doubted his own ears at Ariabert’s instant reply. Twenty thousand ships represented their entire available force.

“You intend to mobilise all twenty thousand at once?”

“That is correct.”

“Is there no need to keep any reserve forces?”

Ariabert’s brow twitched slightly. Jouslain’s question seemed to have caught him by surprise.

“I do not wish to disperse my forces. Besides, that is quite uncharacteristic of you, Lord Jouslain.”

His tone remained calm, yet his gaze seemed to sharpen slightly.

“We have no reserves. Once we are defeated, those who are currently holding their breath and watching the situation will move all at once to join the side of Uraniborg. We may be left with nothing more than the choice of whether to be evaporated amidst the flash of light under the banner of ‘Suppressing the Rebels’, or to blow our own brains out with our rifles.”

“So, we have no reserves, then?”

“Do you not agree, Lord Jouslain?”

“I suppose I do…”

Jouslain was overwhelmed. Within his mind, he had written and erased, drawn and torn up countless plans, but he had never imagined committing his entire available force to the very first engagement. Both sides had even considered seeking a political resolution through a stalemate, but that thought had vanished before Ariabert’s decision as a warrior.

“It is my duty to begin the battle; it is yours, Lord Jouslain, to end it. I am sorry, but it cannot be the other way around.”

Ruminating on Ariabert’s words, Jouslain returned to his private chambers. From behind a large vase, Francia rose to her feet. It looked as though a modest, cream-coloured rose had straightened its stem.

“Lord Jouslain, would you like some tea?”

Jouslain nodded, then, quite suddenly, asked:

“Francia, what do you think of Lord Idris?”

“I dislike Lord Idris.”

“Why?”

“Because, Lord Jouslain, he is your enemy.”

Francia answered without a moment’s hesitation, gazing directly into the face of the master she served. Jouslain met her gaze head-on. There was no need to flinch, and indeed he did not, yet Jouslain was seized by a strange sensation. The word “daunting” was perhaps the only way to describe the feeling.

Francia was a modest girl, and she had no enemies. At least, none that were visible. If, by some chance, Francia did have an enemy, would Jouslain be able to hate such a person? Should he even hate them?

“Lord Jouslain, how much cream would you like?”

“Plenty.”

“As you wish.”

“Ah, wait a moment.”

As Francia, who had begun to depart, paused and turned back, Jouslain gave a light cough. He himself could not fathom his own intention.

“Francia, how many years has it been since we first met?”

“It has been fifteen years, my lord.”

Jouslain was somewhat surprised. If it had been fifteen years, he must have been twelve at the time, yet even then, he had already begun to feel a sense of weariness toward court ceremonies and various parties. For a member of the Tytania nobility, particularly the heir to a ducal house, socialising was an essential duty. Even so, it was only two or three years ago that he had chosen Francia as his lady-in-waiting. If it truly had been fifteen years, wouldn’t Francia have been just a small child?

“Now, now, Francia, surely you must be mistaken.”

“No, with all due respect, I have not forgotten. It was fifteen years ago that we first met.”

In truth, Jouslain did not clearly remember the first time he met Francia. He only recalled that, from among the several young girls provided to serve as his attendant, he had simply picked the one who appeared to be the quietest. She had been a beautiful girl, but she had not been significantly more outstanding than the other candidates. Even so, she had been carefully selected during the candidacy stage.

“I suppose I was arrogant,” thought Jouslain to himself. He had held absolute power over not only Francia but her family as well. Or rather, he had held them at his very fingertips. If Francia’s presence had ever become burdensome, he could have simply sent her back to her family home. Yet, Francia had never given him cause for dissatisfaction.

“Was there something specific that makes you remember?”

“It was quite an unseemly incident, Lord Jouslain, and I am truly ashamed about it. I was quite clumsy; I had wandered deep into the garden during a party where our families had gathered and was lost and crying when you found me and kindly escorted me back to my parents.”

Unless a major catastrophe occurred, there was no reason to remember the trivial happenings of a party. His life was far too busy for such things.

Yet, for Francia, it must have felt like a monumental event. Looking at Francia’s cheeks, which were now flushed a cherry-blossom pink—having apparently perceived that clumsy childhood mishap as something destined—Jouslain was on the verge of a wry smile, though that smile did not last long. It certainly was not impossible to call it fate. Had Jouslain not chosen Francia as his lady-in-waiting, she would not be here now.

What would become of Francia if Jouslain perished alongside Ariabert? What would happen to her?

The relationship between himself and Francia was not one of equals. Jouslain reflected upon this fact even now. Though he had hardly given it a thought before. It was partly because Jouslain possessed little interest in his own private life, but perhaps it had been allowed because of Francia’s selfless devotion.

Jouslain felt unsettled. It was enough to disconcert him that such sentiments had invaded his thoughts just as the conflict with Idris’ faction was on the verge of breaking into open warfare. As Francia brought the hot tea and cream and set them quietly upon the tea table, Jouslain spoke:

“Francia.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have no need of you for a while. Go and rest in your room.”

“… As you wish. Please call for me should you require anything.”

With a bow, Francia withdrew. Her modest, obedient manner instilled in Jouslain a sense of déjà vu. After a moment of thought, he felt a sudden gloom. It was the back of his mother, just as he had seen it when he was very small.

III

Some called it “The Longest Week”, while others referred to it as “The Shortest Seven Days”. The days and nights passed, as if each individual were struggling in vain within a flow of time different from all others.

Planet Bargash was gripped by a strange sort of vitality. Although it sat under the occupation of the Tytania forces, which possessed over twenty thousand vessels, the two Tytania nobles who were meant to hold the highest authority were, officially, individuals without rank or office. The Bargash military was also clearly present, yet they showed no signs of defiance against the Tytania forces. While the government remained diplomatically silent, it continued to carry out the minutiae of domestic routine. As for the citizens, they were utterly excited. Unable to focus on their work, they allowed rumours to blossom into full bloom. Tytania did not commit the folly of over-regulating speech.

“Rumours is what is driving the situation.”

It was said that a high-ranking officer of the Blaze Flag Army had made that ironic observation, though it was not certain.

“Soon, a great fleet of fifty thousand ships will descend upon Bargash from Uraniborg.”

“No, it will be one hundred thousand.”

“I reckon it will be one hundred and fifty thousand ships.”

The numbers were being bid up, much like an auction. If the attacking force had been merely twenty or thirty thousand, it would have been a discouraging prospect.

Of course, there were those who were gripped by terror, imagining a day when an unprecedented, massive army would launch an indiscriminate assault. Those people were the rational ones; the more resourceful among them had already devised plans to flee to other planets or to digitise and move their entire fortunes abroad. Yet, such digitised assets would merely be swallowed by the Tytania financial network, and as no place of absolute safety could be found, it could be said that many people, driven by a sort of desperation, had sought refuge in drink, romance, and gossip. After all, the “enemy” was so gargantuan that it was difficult to truly grasp the reality of it.

“But if Tytania were to disappear, I wonder what would become of us.”

Whether they were nobles or commoners, wealthy or poor, not a single living soul had ever experienced a “universe without the rule of Tytania.” An unknown era might be arriving, and regarding that possibility, it was impossible to suppress a sense of profound unease.

“Better the devil you know than the god you don’t.”

It was exactly as the proverb went.

As for Ariabert and Jouslain, who were considered the rulers of Bargash, it could be said that people were bewildered as to how to respond to them. They could not judge whether they were allies, enemies, or merely troublesome guests bringing the enemy along with them.

Ariabert and Jouslain brushed off the declaration issued by Idris with chilling indifference.

“There is no need to go through the trouble of providing a negative response.”

Seeing Ariabert nod, Jouslain gave the order to his subordinates:

“Ignore them.”

And so, as a day passed and then a second, no response came from Bargash. For Idris, the situation was becoming increasingly unpleasant with every passing moment.

Since Jouslain and Ariabert were in agreement, it was futile for Balamy to raise any objection. While he had never imagined they would succumb to Idris’ threats and surrender unconditionally, Balamy could not discern how they intended to handle the matter.

“Total silence, huh?…”

Upon reflection, there was no obligation to respond, whether Idris chose to provoke or threaten. Ignoring or disregarding him was the best way to wound Idris’ pride, and it served as a psychological tactic as well. However, the deadline set by Idris was drawing closer, silent and inexorable.

On the second day, Balamy tried questioning Jouslain.

“Will you not meet with Princess Lydia?”

“… I will not.”

“And why is that?”

“I have no face to show her.”

Having said only that, Jouslain returned his gaze to the three-dimensional star chart he had been studying and sank into a state of deep contemplation. Balamy exited the room in silence.

Internally, Balamy was incensed. He was unsure how things were being handled at Uraniborg, but Jouslain was supposed to be Princess Lydia’s protector. Furthermore, the Kingdom of Elbing itself was Jouslain’s responsibility. Or rather, it had been his responsibility until his position was stripped away. While ignoring Idris’ threats was one thing, if the result was leaving the Kingdom of Elbing in ruins, what kind of impact would that have on future political and military strategies? Balamy desperately wanted to know the thoughts of both dukes, particularly Jouslain’s, but it did not seem as though they would tell him.

Balamy searched for Princess Lydia. He soon spotted her sitting in her favourite window seat within her favourite observation room. She sat perfectly still, wearing her other favourite small, feathered hat.

As he prepared to call out to her, Princess Lydia spoke first, her back still turned to him:

“Is that you, Bal?”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Do not come any closer.”

Balamy could not hide his astonishment. Usually, it was Princess Lydia who would cling to him, to the point of exasperation.

“I am making an unpleasant face right now, and I do not want you to see it, Bal.”

So that was the reason?

“I believe that Lord Jouslain and Lord Ariabert will surely save my country. But even though I believe this, a part of my heart thinks it is impossible. That must be why I am making such an unpleasant face.”

“How do you imagine they might save it?”

“I do not know. I am still only a child.”

Though she was but a child, her voice carried a profound gravity.

“I want to become an adult quickly. If I did, I would be able to do something for myself. As I am now, I can only watch.”

Balamy managed to respond:

“That is true. You can watch. Make you not let a single thing escape your sight.”

Balamy thought to himself for a moment. Perhaps it wasn’t that Jouslain and Ariabert had chosen the Kingdom of Elbing, but rather that they had chosen Princess Lydia over the Kingdom of Elbing? If that were the case, it was heartless, yet only natural, for they had chosen that which held the greater value…

Having thought this, Balamy found himself wondering why he had even thought such a thing.

Beyond the transparent wall, countless constellations glittered. Before them, a young girl stood with her back turned. Gazing upon both while bathed in the pale light, Balamy stood frozen in a somewhat indecisive position. He could not decide whether it would be better to leave the place in silence or not.

A streak of meteoric light flowed across one corner of the transparent wall, from the upper right to the lower left. Several cheers erupted within the interior of the observation dome. The people behind those voices were blameless, yet to Balamy, it felt somewhat shameful.

A cold-blooded ambitious man who justified his ends by any means necessary. That was the kind of person Balamy had desired to be, and during his late father’s lifetime, and when purging the high officials of the Vardana Empire, he had demonstrated behaviour close to that. However, what was the case now? He found himself shamelessly subservient to Ariabert and Jouslain, his attention captured by the lamentations of a girl no more than ten years of age.

Balamy was not so foolish as to deny that this was reality, yet facing the unpleasantness of it was still difficult.

At last, Balamy spoke:

“Princess, what if you were to ask Dukes Jouslain and Ariabert to save the Kingdom of Elbing?”

“I cannot ask them.”

The reply came instantly.

“I know how many impossible requests I have already made them accept. Do you truly think that on top of all that I could ask them to save the Kingdom of Elbing?”

She must have thought on it deeply, even with a child’s heart. Her words were clear, but her voice trembled, and in the end, it seemed as though tears began to well up. Balamy stood frozen, flustered and tormented by regret. It was a young, soft female voice that saved him:

“Lord Balamy, I shall attend to the Princess…”

“Lady Francia.”

He had not realised when she had arrived, but that did not matter. Never before had Balamy held Jouslain’s lover in such high regard. Upon spotting Francia, Princess Lydia rushed towards her, embracing her like a younger sister would.

With a bow, Balamy departed from the scene.

Even amidst such circumstances, information was flying wildly across the cosmos, a mixture of truth and falsehood. As Ariabert and Jouslain failed to issue any official response even after several days, an irritated Idris made the following announcement, intending it as a second strike:

“The commander is Rear-Admiral Fan Hyulick.”

When that was announced, Ariabert and Jouslain exchanged glances and gave a bitter smile as if in agreement. So, that was his move? To conquer a mere place like the Kingdom of Elbing, neither elites nor a massive army were required. They had assumed the selection of the commander would be made haphazardly, but upon reflection, it was exactly the kind of thing Idris would do.

“One point for Idris,” commented Ariabert. “Even if the Kingdom of Elbing is destroyed, he avoids staining his own hands. Conversely, Fan Hyulick’s reputation will plummet. The anti-Tytania forces, who had been elevating him as a hero, will surely be disappointed.”

“And at the same time, one point against Idris,” replied Jouslain. “Even if he was chosen as commander, Fan Hyulick will likely lack enthusiasm for operational duties. Furthermore, it is unthinkable that the Tytania troops would willingly follow an outsider, Fan Hyulick of all people.”

“A net-zero then?”

“Well…”

Idris’ gain was political, while his loss was military. Had Idris prioritised political manoeuvring, deciding to turn a blind eye to the military disadvantage?

On the surface, Idris’ intention could be settled with a single word: “cowardly”. But was that all there was to it? In the first place, just how seriously did Idris intend to force the unconditional surrender of Ariabert and Jouslain?

IV

Some days later, Ariabert took an action that won the favour of the citizens of Bargash. As he was leaving the hotel that served as his headquarters, he encountered a beautiful young woman with whom he was already acquainted.

“Edna.”

“Captain Edna Fredericks, reporting for duty, Your Ducal Grace Ariabert Tytania.”

Her expression and her voice remained entirely unchanged. Ariabert made a face that fell just short of a wry smile.

“I still haven’t figured out what kind of attitude or conversation is appropriate in situations like this.”

“Some people never know until the day they die.”

“I certainly hope I don’t end up like that… May I speak with you for a moment?”

Edna seemed to hesitate. Ariabert sensed it by the slight pause that preceded her reply.

“… Please do.”

“I am glad you are not turning me down.”

“However, my break time is not very long…”

“I understand. Let us find somewhere to sit.”

The two of them made their way to a nearby open-air café. They ordered black coffee and a café au lait.

“Are the preparations for departure complete?”

“At the very least, my ship can depart within the hour. However, the Austra arrived here strictly as His Grace Jouslain’s flagship. In what capacity will the next departure take place?”

The man thought to himself that this was not a conversation between a man and a woman.

“There are no changes… No, actually there is one. The flagship shall be the Golden Sheep. The Austra will serve as Jouslain’s vessel.”

Their order was brought to the table. The young waitress’ hands trembled slightly. She likely recognised Ariabert’s face.

“Your duty is to protect Lord Jouslain. That is all.”

After handing the bill and a tip to the waitress with a magnanimous air, Ariabert’s tone grew more forceful.

“The future of Tytania exists only because he is here. Therefore, as a precaution, he and I shall travel on separate ships.”

He picked up his coffee cup and elegantly took a sip.

“Planetarica beans? They are passable. Now then, becoming Tytania’s Clanner was synonymous with establishing a unified rule over the universe… until now.”

“Will it be different from now on?”

“It seems Lord Jouslain believes it will be. That Tytania is sufficient as one of the powerful forces that will form human society in space.”

Ariabert gazed intently at Edna.

“What do you think, Edna?”

“… I am a soldier. Political judgements exceed my authority and station.”

“I am well aware of your ascetic loyalty to the uniform. Although, by the laws of Uraniborg, I am no longer your superior…”

After giving a slight shake of his head, Ariabert picked up his cup once more.

“Thank you for joining me. Perhaps you will meet me next time when I am in civilian clothes.”

“… If time permits.”

“I hope it will be for as long as possible.”

For a mere moment, Edna’s lips seemed to part in a faint smile. After she saluted and departed, Ariabert sat before his coffee for a while.

“The one controlling the situation is none of the three dukes, but Clanner Ajman. Just whose side is he on, anyway? And when exactly does he intend to appear before the public?”

He could hear the voices of the guests at the surrounding tables. That was exactly right, Ariabert murmured to himself. As long as the Clanner remained well, that was certainly true. However, at a time when it appeared that Tytania had undergone a Great Schism, he wondered what significance there was in his deliberate decision to remain out of the public eye.

“Hey, look, this is…”

A panicked voice rose, and the area around the table fell silent. It seemed a group of footmen had spotted Ariabert in his plain clothes. Ariabert turned his gaze towards them and gave a slight raise of his coffee cup.

The Tytania nobles, who lived amongst the clouds, were met with a mixture of bewilderment and admiration at his casual gesture. A middle-aged man, who had raised his own cup towards him, shouted almost half-heartedly, his face flushed with excitement.

“Please, you must win, Your Grace!”

Idris was once again overcome by a sense of unease. It had gone well enough to use the Kingdom of Elbing as bait and drive Ariabert and Jouslain into a corner, but once the waves of temporary victory and satisfaction had receded, doubt had crept in.

“Was that truly the right move? Have I overlooked something critical?”

He slumped back in his chair, legs stretched out across the desk, lost in thought.

The root of Idris’ psychological instability was, quite simply, his lack of absolute confidence in facing both Ariabert and Jouslain at once. While a one-on-one duel was one thing, a two-on-one fight made a complete victory uncertain. It was precisely because Idris was well aware of this that he required the powerful support of Clanner Ajman. Yet, the Clanner remained confined to his hospital room, playing the part of a sphinx. Even when Idris pressed the attending physician and the nurses, they merely replied, “By order of His Clanner Highness, we cannot disclose anything,” leaving him with no further recourse. In this one respect, Idris shared the same doubt as his two adversaries.

“Lord Idris, you truly are soft-hearted.”

A woman’s voice spoke suddenly.

“Watch your words, Theodora. I am in no mood for such levity right now.”

However, Idris did not reprimand Countess Theodora Tytania for entering the room without permission. She had only just been released from house arrest a few days prior.

“Well, nevermind, but what exactly do you mean by soft-hearted?”

“You are simply letting slip through your fingers a precious opportunity to eliminate a source of anxiety. It is true that I lost my way with my words. And for that, I offer my deepest apologies. However, I must say that your approach, Lord Idris, is far too soft.”

The heel of Idris’ boot struck the desk. Theodora continued, appearing outwardly composed:

“When those wandering pirates who call themselves the Blaze Flag Army first arrived at Uraniborg, you received them with great courtesy, did you not?”

“Are you suggesting that instead of summoning the Blaze Flag Army, I should have simply slaughtered them?”

In truth, Idris had also considered that very point. To him, the Blaze Flag Army was nothing more than a group of criminals whom he could never truly trust, either in spirit or in mind. However, he had welcomed them after calculating that they possessed certain utility.

“How shortsighted. Doing so might allow you to avoid trouble in the future, perhaps. But if you invite them as guests in name only, only to cause them harm, it will bring disgrace upon the honour of Tytania. If you are unable to grasp even something of that magnitude, then you ought to renounce the honourable name of Tytania.”

Theodora remained perfectly composed.

“It appears that Duchess Theresa does not seem to understand that. Would you say the same to her?”

Regarding Duchess Theresa—that is, the mother of the late Zarlisch and his brother—interfering without the Clanner’s permission was frowned upon, and because of that, Idris became even more displeased, and it provoked unexpected suspicions.

“Theodora.”

“What is it?”

“Was it not you who incited that foolish mother of Zarlisch?”

He did not possess absolute certainty about it. Consequently, Idris’ choice of words was subtle; he did not say, “It must be you,” nor did he say, “It is you,” but rather phrased it as a confirmation rather than an accusation. Theodora noticed this before Idris himself did.

She laughed without making a sound.

“My, how outrageous! Are you suggesting that I was the one who instigated such a foolish act?”

“Hmph. It is exactly the sort of thing you would do.”

Duchess Theresa Tytania had lost her eldest son, Zarlisch, and her second son, Arses, at the hands of the Blaze Flag Army. Therefore, Idris had believed it was only natural that she would seek vengeance for her sons, but…

“I should not have restrained the Duchess back then.”

“Are you suggesting it would have been better to let her kill Fan Hyulick and his group?”

“Yes. Had that happened, Lord Idris, you could have eliminated a public enemy of Tytania without ever staining your own hands. Am I wrong?”

“And then Duchess Theresa would have achieved the glorious feat of avenging her foolish sons.”

“And she would have passed away in satisfaction, I presume.”

“……!”

“The vengeance against Fan Hyulick remains a purely personal matter for Lord Zarlisch’s family. As you stated yourself a moment ago, Lord Idris, if guests were to be murdered, it would bring shame upon the prestige of Tytania. The Duchess would have to bear the responsibility for such an outcome.”

“You mean, kill her?”

“Requesting that she take her own life with dignity. To serve as the true proof of her blue blood. Surely, the Duchess would not stoop to such unsightly behaviour.”

“I should hope so.”

Responding with a voice laced with sarcasm, Idris gestured for Theodora to leave the room.

V

“Let those two meet in Bargash. You can be certain they’ll be plotting something.”

Once, Idris had cried out exactly such words. His malice-filled prophecy had proven true. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that his malice was what had ultimately forged the bond between Ariabert and Jouslain. Idris did not wish to admit his own blunder, yet he could not shake the bitter feeling that disposing of the two of them one by one might have been the best course of action and that perhaps he should have waited for the opportunity with more patience.

It was then that a new guest arrived.

“Brother Idris.”

“Zelpha? Well, come and sit.”

Idris’ expression softened. It was a rare thing for this young nobleman, who usually kept his features sharp and guarded to ensure no weakness showed in either offence or defence, to show such a gentle impression to another. For Ariabert or Jouslain, such a sight would have been difficult to even imagine.

“Though we both reside in Uraniborg, we have not had an opportunity to meet for some time.”

“That is because you have been so busy, Brother. I have longed to see you, but I have endured my patience. I hope I am not causing you an inconvenience today?”

Idris’ youngest brother gazed upon his eldest brother with heartfelt devotion.

Idris let out a sigh. It appeared to be a sigh that released his true feelings.

“Zelpha, if only you and Radmoth had been born in the reverse order. I would have had a most dependable lieutenant.”

“I am sorry.”

“No, you are blameless.”

Idris gave a wry smile.

“It was my wording that was at fault. Forgive me.”

Inwardly, Idris cursed Radmoth. “If only just once he could try saying something as charming as Zelpha.”

“It is a pity that I cannot be of use to you presently, but Brother Idris, when you become Clanner, I shall serve you with utmost loyalty as your foremost subject. I hope that day comes as soon as possible.”

Idris’ expression, which had begun to soften, changed abruptly. Almost unconsciously beginning to glance around the room, Idris rebuked his adorable younger brother.

“Zelpha! Mind your words. To speak of ascending to the Clanner throne is an act of high treason. Have you forgotten your propriety and your loyalty?!”

Zelpha’s complexion changed instantly, and his body went rigid. A sense of awe toward the Clanner was ingrained in the very spirit of the Tytania nobility. From the time they were children. Furthermore, if anyone were to overhear talk that undermined the Clanner’s prestige or speculated on his life or succession, there was no telling what manner of calamity might descend upon them.

“Brother, I…”

“No, I spoke too harshly as well. There is no need to be afraid. But mark my words: be extremely careful with your language, and ensure you do not invite any unnecessary misunderstandings.”

“Yes, I shall take great care.”

“Very well. You may go now.”

Idris embraced the shoulder of his youngest brother, who looked as though he might burst into tears at any moment, offering him as much kindness as he could muster before seeing him out of the room. At that same moment, a new visitor appeared. It was a communications officer, his expression taut with tension.

“I bring urgent news. According to reports from the Bargash region, both Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain…”

“They are no longer dukes.”

“I… excuse me…”

“They are traitors. Refer to them as such.”

“Very well. Regarding the traitors Ariabert and Jouslain…”

“Have they offered to surrender?”

“No, quite the opposite. They have set out from the planet Bargash, leading a fleet.”

“What?”

Idris’ voice rose involuntarily. The deadline he had set for them had not yet arrived.

“It appears to be their entire force, or at least most of it. The total number of vessels is approximately twenty thousand. There seem to be almost no deserters.”

Idris furrowed his well-shaped brows.

With what intention had Ariabert and Jouslain moved three days ahead of the deadline Idris had provided? And they had done so with their entire strength. Were they mad, mobilising twenty thousand ships merely to save the Kingdom of Elbing? No, wait, assuming they were sane…

The heel of Idris’ boot struck the floor.

“I am going to the Combat Command Centre right away. Prepare the three-dimensional star charts.”

“Understood!”

“And we shall simulate their future course. Gather the necessary personnel and materials.”

As its name suggested, the Combat Command Centre was intended to be the most vital location during the military engagements of Uraniborg. Conversely, as long as Uraniborg was not under direct attack from external enemies, it remained a useless relic. Although it had undergone maintenance for over a century, it had never actually been put to use. Idris had decided to open the doors to that room, which had long been known as the “unopened chamber”. Having received his first reactions from Ariabert and Jouslain, Idris was invigorated to the point of near-exhilaration, for better or worse.

Though he was not particularly favoured by Ariabert or Jouslain, Idris was a possessor of the kind of ambition befitting a duke of Tytania.

Both Ariabert and Jouslain appeared to be posturing as brave dissenters, but that was only possible because they were far removed from Uraniborg. For Idris, who had managed Uraniborg alone while always feeling the Clanner’s gaze upon his back, this was an opportunity to show them what he was truly capable of.

If Clanner Ajman were to appear and declare, “I support Lord Idris,” the chaos and disorder currently tossing the universe about would, in an instant, vanish. If that could not be hoped for, Idris would have no choice but to tilt the situation in his favour through his own strength. Once he had made his decision, even a slight lack of confidence was of no consequence.

Twenty thousand vessels had gathered in orbit around the moon of the planet Bargash. From the night hemisphere, they appeared as a cluster of light that overwhelmed the very stars in the sky, and people watched, breathless, captivated by their dangerous beauty.

“Idris gave us a deadline of one week…”

“You intended to make your move before that from the very beginning, did you not, Lord Ariabert?”

“That is correct. Why should I blindly obey Idris’ orders?”

The conversation between the two took place via the communication screen connecting the Golden Sheep and the Austra.

“In that case, Lord Ariabert, I shall be serving under your command from this moment forth. I am no great man, but I look forward to working with you.”

“Well then, I shall leave the fleet’s movements and combat to you.”

“By the way, what is our destination? As it stands, there is no longer any necessity to head for the Kingdom of Elbing. Even the Uraniborg fleet, which should have been bound for Elbing, will likely not depart as originally intended at this late stage.”

Ariabert responded to Jouslain’s question with a smile.

“We are heading for Uraniborg.”

“Hum, I see.”

It was a light remark, yet Jouslain caught his breath.

“Lord Jouslain, if we are to strike directly, it will be at Uraniborg rather than the Elbing expeditionary fleet.”

“Was that your intention from the very beginning?”

“Indeed.”

“I could never have imagined it. I clearly lack the qualities required to be a military leader.”

“I am telling you to leave such trivial matters to me. All you need to do, Lord Jouslain, is take your time considering how to make Idris capitulate. Now, I shall take my leave.”

“Understood.”

Jouslain adjusted his seat slightly and turned his gaze to another screen. He could hear the sharp, commanding voice of Captain Edna Fredericks. It appeared that the Austra was also cautiously changing its position. The entire army, which had been in a spherical formation, was transitioning into a wedge formation.

“Bal, I heard that Lord Jouslain and Lord Ariabert will manage somehow.”

“I’m impressed by your keen insight.”

From a nearby seat, the conversation between Princess Lydia and Balamy drifted over. The girl’s voice bounced with joy, and the young man’s voice seemed almost drawn in by in.

Jouslain looked towards the seat on the opposite side. Wearing pearlescent overalls that seemed to accentuate her elegant curves, Jouslain’s lover returned his gaze with a soft look, without saying a word.

Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance

I

It was common knowledge that Fan Hyulick was no saint, and he was thoroughly dissatisfied with the situation he found himself in. Neither the flavour of the omelette nor the fates of those involved with Tytania seemed to be going according to his wishes. To make matters worse, Doctor Lee added fuel to the fire while gazing at his disgruntled expression:

“It seems you have become quite popular in Bargash.”

“Stop teasing me.”

Hyulick groaned, yet what Doctor Lee said was true. He felt he was being mocked because the tone of the media on the planet Bargash had become excessively celebratory.

“… If both Reformist dukes emerge victorious, there is a possibility that the highest leadership of the Tytania Clan will relocate to Bargash. As a command centre on the front lines of frontier sector development, they would likely plan a dramatic expansion of the human habitable zone. The future of humanity always lies in the frontier. Bargash, as the ‘Neo Uraniborg’, holds an extremely bright future…”

Hyulick let out a gloomy laugh.

“I had no idea there were people thinking even that far ahead. Quite a grand vision, isn’t it? Though I felt that, until just a few days ago, we were being treated like a plague that had brought nothing but misfortune to the Tytania.”

Doctor Lee gave a shrug, with a movement that could almost be described as elegant.

“Since Bargash managed to avoid becoming the target of the entire Tytania military, those people there must be dancing with joy. As for the media being irresponsibly running wild, that is a thousand-year-old tradition. One cannot live if they fret over every little thing.”

Doctor Lee was in high spirits. It was because he had discovered a new research theme: “The Evolution of Media Discourse Leading to the Destruction of Tytania”. Nothing in all creation escaped his academic curiosity—or, as Miranda would put it, his cat-like curiosity. Even regarding the recent orders to attack Elbing, Doctor Lee appeared to maintain a thoroughly positive stance:

“I have seen enough of Uraniborg. It holds no use for us. Since they say they will let us leave, I shall depart with my head held high. Otherwise, if a single mistake were made…”

Doctor Lee curled the right corner of his lip into a smirk.

“Detention or imprisonment—such treatments are in the realm of possibilities. The situation changes not just by the day, but by the hour. And accordingly, Duke Idris’ intentions will change as well.”

“So you’re saying we should escape before he changes his mind.”

“Precisely. Once we have left Uraniborg, we can manage the rest.”

“Do you have any specific plans?”

“Tactics and strategies are your responsibility. I shall, of course, provide assistance.”

In this context, “assistance” meant “observation”.

“I can’t just whip up a strategy on a whim like that.”

“Well, you are rather skilled at devising ingenious schemes to exploit an opponent’s openings or carelessness.”

“That makes me sound like nothing more than a petty crook.”

“Petty crooks cannot defeat the likes of Duke Zarlisch or Duke Ariabert. Your emergence is a significant factor in the shifting tides of history, so you may remain confident.”

Even so, he did not feel as though he were being praised. The reason Fan Hyulick cursed what he might call his destiny was due to the bizarre fact that, having been forced into battles he did not even want to fight, the more he won, the more he found himself cornered.

While he possessed a rebellious spirit that refused to let himself be swept away by fate, he was nonetheless gripped by a sense of resignation, for he could not help but think of the hundreds of thousands of people who had met an untimely, unwanted death because of him. Though he had no awareness of having committed a single murder as a crime, Hyulick did not possess the personality of a “hero of chaos” who could simply cast everything aside and enjoy life with complete abandon.

“How half-hearted.”

It was a cliché expression, but ultimately, Hyulick himself—or perhaps the person who understood him best—was the one who knew this to be true. Even if it was far from perfect.

That day, at breakfast, Hyulick burst into the dining room with a distinctly unheroic air. While he was not quite in his pyjamas, his carrot-coloured hair remained as dishevelled as when he had first woken, and his shirt buttons remained undone.

“What is the matter, Hyulick?”

“D-Doctor, the entire surroundings are covered in Tytania vessels!”

“They are our allies.”

“?… Ah, right. That’s correct.”

Hyulick slumped into one of the chairs and ran a hand vigorously through his hair. From the seat beside him, Seraphine Coopers frowned, yet she poured hot coffee into his cup.

Walenkov and Pagès entered the room together, their shoulders standing about ten centimetres apart in height.

“I must say, it feels wonderful. No matter if I look front, back, left, right, up, or down, all I see are Tytania vessels.”

Hyulick took the cup in his hands.

“If push comes to shove, it will be a storm of heat rays and titanium rounds from six directions.”

“Let us all become stars together in that event, then.”

Walenkov gripped a fork in his large hand and swept two fried eggs and three slices of thick-cut ham from his plate in a single mouthful. Hyulick drank half of his coffee before stabbing and stirring his egg with a fork, displaying a complete lack of appetite. Seraphine watched him, her eyes seemingly saying, “Are those not the same eggs?”

It was not merely the Tytania military that was “besieging” the Honest Old Man Junior. It was also the remnants of Zarlisch’s former fleet.

For Fan Hyulick, it was impossible to remain composed. To the soldiers and officers of the former Zarlisch fleet, Hyulick was the enemy who had taken their late master’s life. It would not have been surprising if they had turned their guns upon him in an act of vengeance. Even if it did not come to that…

“Will they even obey my orders?”

Hyulick’s suspicion was not entirely unfounded. Even before his death, Zarlisch had been a legendary ruthless general, one who had led his subordinates from the very front of the entire army.

“There are two types of soldiers. Those who submit to Duke Ariabert and those who are devoted to Duke Zarlisch.”

Such was their reputation. The type of soldier who was utterly devoted to Zarlisch was typically brave, refused to retreat even when the tide of battle turned against them, and preferred head-on clashes. They were a mirror of the supreme commander’s own character. Would such men simply obey Hyulick’s orders without question?

“Well, it is rare for everything to go exactly according to plan,” remarked Doctor Lee. “Even so, a plan must be drawn. If only to confirm the fact that things are not going as intended.”

While assigning Zarlisch’s former subordinates to Hyulick’s fleet was one thing, it was the presence of Baron Radmoth Tytania that caused his cheeks to puff out even further with indignation. Regarding this appointment, Miranda, Mahdi, and the others were in complete agreement:

“This it is pure harassment.”

By making such a definitive statement, Hyulick felt as though he had been forced to eat the second-worst omelette in the world.

From the looks of him, Radmoth, who appeared to be a miniature reproduction of the late Zarlisch, did not seem at all like an eighteen-year-old. Not only was his physique larger than Hyulick’s, but his manner lacked any trace of youthful innocence. When he boarded the ship, Doctor Lee had asked:

“Military Supervisor, shall we prepare a seat for on the bridge for you?”

“Naturally.”

Radmoth replied curtly and arrogantly, scanning the bridge as if looking at something filthy.

“What a stingy ship.”

Miranda, having had her beloved spacecraft insulted, took a large, indignant step forward, but her left arm was restrained by her husband, Captain Casimir, and her right arm by Doctor Lee. Doctor Lee quickly whispered in a low voice:

“Let it go. It won’t be for long.”

“I wish we could just sail straight past this ship. Even so, Doctor…”

“What is it?”

“Do you intend to use that young master who’s all brawn and no brains as a hostage, should the need arise?”

“Ho, so that was the plan?”

Speaking with feigned indifference, Doctor Lee had arranged a seat unnecessarily luxurious for the “young master who’s all brawn and no brains”.

“Now then, Hyulick, what will you do if our allies, as you fear, fail to move according to plan?”

“We would have no choice but to demand they obey our orders.”

“By the time such an order is issued, it will have already turned into a catastrophe.”

After handing his “student” a failing grade, Doctor Lee shared his thoughts in a voice low enough so that Radmoth could not overhear:

“I believe it was Duke Jouslain’s scheme, and I suspect he chose haste deliberately. He likely abandoned the idea of making thorough preparations altogether.”

“Why would he do such a thing?”

“To sow confusion.”

Doctor Lee explained to everyone present.

“The more time he allows, the more the various parties, both within and outside Tytania, will deliberate and attempt to reach decisions that favour themselves. Duke Jouslain does not intend to let that happen. He intends to conclude this matter before everyone has fallen into disarray and become unable to act.”

Doctor Lee flicked his gaze briefly. Seated in a position of honour beyond his line of sight, Baron Radmoth Tytania sat slumped in his seat.

Ariabert asked Jouslain:

“Lord Jouslain, if you were to offer advice to Idris as a friend, what would you say?”

“Well, I would first suggest dealing with those closest at hand: exiling or imprisoning his brother, Radmoth, and Countess Theodora.”

While such an ironic exchange was being traded in a sea of stars dozens of light-years away, the actual person of interest they were talking about was sitting with his arms folded, looking every bit the pariah; however, he only changed his expression and posture when Seraphine Coopers brought him coffee. To put it romantically, it was as if his primal instincts had been stirred, as he cast a gaze upon Seraphine reminiscent of an ancient slave trader appraising his wares.

When his large hand reached out indiscreetly, Seraphine deftly evaded the predatory touch with a casual movement and promptly stepped back. For the first time since Radmoth’s ship had arrived, Hyulick felt a sense of amusement.

Doctor Lee lightly patted Hyulick on the shoulder and delivered a dull piece of news to his underachieving pupil:

“There is no way to know for certain what the situation is with Clanner Ajman, but it is possible that the Clanner may soon find himself with no part to play.”

II

Every route monitoring system raised an alarm amongst the controllers.

“Ariabert and Jouslain’s fleets have changed course!”

Having departed from Bargash and appearing to head towards the Tyron Sector, the combined fleets of Ariabert and Jouslain continued their sub-light travel, their trajectory tracing a gentle curve from their original straight line. The aerospace computers were forced into full operation to predict their future course.

“It looks as though we won’t have the luxury of bothering with Elbing after all.”

Hyulick felt, rather, a sense of relief. If Ariabert and Jouslain performed such a sudden course correction that they struck Uraniborg directly, Hyulick would then be obligated to respond by moving to relieve Uraniborg. It provided him with a righteous cause. He would be able to avoid attacking the weak Kingdom of Elbing.

“So, what are we going to do now?” asked Seraphine Coopers.

Hyulick replied, appearing to be in high spirits for the first time in a long while:

“All fleets, halt forward progress. Await new orders from Uraniborg.”

One single mistake, and they might be forced into battle against the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain with their current strength of two thousand ships. While the possibility of such an unreasonable order being issued existed, for Hyulick, that would have been far preferable to attacking Elbing. Though his conscience had worn considerably thin through an accumulation of subjective hardships, he believed that, rather than launching an indiscriminate attack on a poor, weak nation, losing to Ariabert on a third attempt would be the more righteous path to take.

Even so, he wondered what would become of them from here on out.

If Ariabert and Jouslain continued to accumulate victories, there was a high possibility that those weighing the pros and cons would increasingly side with them. Hyulick felt a slight shiver at the decision made by Ariabert and Jouslain to cast that eventuality aside and settle the matter with the shortest and fastest means possible. Few individuals could withstand the psychological pressure of being presented with the choice between “victory or death”. They had absolutely no intention of spending the rest of their lives under the rule of Idris should they suffer defeat.

As for Idris, how was he faring?

Duke Idris Tytania was unaware that Fan Hyulick’s party was currently engaged in sabotage within a sector three days away from Uraniborg. In truth, he had far greater concerns.

When Idris first entered the combat command room, he surveyed the vast, dome-shaped interior and took his seat at the central command station, overworking his brain to the point of a splitting headache.

The total military strength of Tytania was said to be one hundred thousand vessels, with twenty thousand of those under the command of Ariabert and Jouslain. Even so, while eighty thousand should have been counted under Idris, twenty thousand were undergoing maintenance, repairs, or rest, and another twenty thousand were assigned to patrol and guard duties across various sectors of the vast cosmos; thus, the strength Idris could freely deploy at that moment was approximately forty thousand. This was double that of the enemy.

However, for Idris, who desired nothing less than a complete victory, he could not help but feel it was still insufficient. If the military of the lesser nations joined the enemy, or if a portion of his allies defected, the force ratio would quickly dwindle to something like thirty thousand against thirty thousand. Provided they possessed their military satellites and massive arrays of fortress cannons, Uraniborg should still hold the advantage in combat power, and yet…

“If they are able to advance this far, Tytania is already finished.”

That was the general consensus. Therefore, when Idris ordered the operators to activate the three-dimensional simulator, it was with a fleet battle in mind.

“First, try a U-shaped depth formation.”

“Understood!”

The operators’ fingers danced across their consoles, and in response, points of light within the three-dimensional simulator moved and transformed. A group of blue points of light, arranged in a U-shape, partially encircled a thick, arrow-shaped cluster of red light. The red points represented the enemy, while the blue points represented the allies.

The operators’ gazes were subtly directed toward the supreme commander. Realising this, Idris knew he had to say something appropriate.

“If the base of the U-shape is too thin, there is a risk that the centre could be breached, splitting our forces to the left and right.”

“Understood. Even so, it would still be entirely possible to execute a pincer attack from both flanks.”

Idris nodded, crossing his arms lightly.

“Next, the layered deep defence.”

At his command, the operator responded:

“To crudely put it, it’s like ‘peeling an onion’, but I believe this formation would be advantageous for wearing down the enemy.”

“I am aware of that much.”

“Yes, I beg your pardon.

The operator’s voice stiffened. Sensing this, Idris felt a small sense of satisfaction. He could feel the awe the operator held for him.

Within the three-dimensional simulator, the clusters of blue light points transformed more dramatically and extensively than before. The thin, plate-like formations were layered one after another, front to back, with intervals between them. Once the cluster of red enemy light points breached one line, they would face the next. Once that was broken, a third plate-like formation awaited them. With each breakthrough, the red light points would steadily diminish.

Idris’ eyes shone, as if this were a live combat engagement against Ariabert and Jouslain.

“Shall we go with this?…” muttering Idris to himself, bitter look entering his eyes.

He had realised that his tactics were on the verge of becoming passive without even a single blow being struck.

“There is also the strategy of separating and converging, but…”

Of course, it would be ideal if it worked, but if the timing of each fleet’s arrival were even slightly off, it would result in the folly of piecemeal engagement. The arriving fleets could be defeated one after another, potentially leading to the disgrace of total annihilation.

Idris leaned one elbow on the desk and rested his chin on the back of his hand, lost in thought.

The three-dimensional simulator was reproducing the final phase of the battle. In this stage, Idris’ forces consisted of forty thousand undamaged ships. In comparison, Ariabert and Jouslain should have suffered a certain amount of loss. Perhaps around fifteen thousand ships. While the first step towards victory was to assemble more troops than the enemy, at this particular stage, Idris already held the upper hand.

A thought flashed through his mind, and he spun his command seat around to glare at the group of generals stationed behind him.

“What if…”

There was a note of schadenfreude in Idris’ voice.

“What if Fan Hyulick were to intercept his course with some two thousand ships? I wonder if that bastard Ariabert could remain so composed.”

One of his admirals questioned him:

“And what would the Kingdom of Elbing do in such an event?”

“Ah, I had forgotten.”

It was an honest reaction.

“Leave them be. We shall crush them at a later date. Provided I even remember them, that is.”

Originally, his intent to attack and annihilate the Kingdom of Elbing had been to confound Jouslain and disrupt his strategic deployment. It was an operation involving a mere two thousand ships. Now that such a need had vanished, there was no necessity to strike the Kingdom of Elbing. Furthermore, with the situation having changed so drastically, it would have been a waste to leave even a force of two thousand ships merely as a garrison.

Idris himself would never admit it, but an undeniable truth existed. Compared to Idris, Ariabert possessed far more extensive combat experience. Furthermore, there was the skilled Jouslain. While his experience in field command was not much different from Idris’, one could never predict what kind of schemes he might devise to assist Ariabert. In Idris’ eyes, his tactics were nothing short of “cunning”.

If only Zarlisch were still around, thought Idris for the first time. If only he could have utilised that man’s destructive power and leadership—but Zarlisch had never been a man to follow Idris blindly. Had Idris not been prepared to take a subordinate position, an alliance with Zarlisch would likely never have been possible.

In any case, Zarlisch was already dead, and it was impossible to alter the past. If anything, Idris found his own momentary weakness of thought infuriating. Gazing at the three-dimensional simulator, he posed several questions:

“If the rebels move into this area, won’t the shortest route connecting Kafir and Tyron be blocked?”

“If they were to occupy the area for an extended period, that might be the case; however, if they are merely passing through, we estimated that the impact on logistics and travel would remain within a negligible range.”

“There are armies in both Kafir and Tyron. They aren’t strong or large. But can we at least demand of them that they halt the rebels’ advance?”

“I fear they will only come if they are promised a reward.”

“I’ll give them whatever they want.”

Idris spat the words out with contempt.

III

“Even so, there is something I cannot comprehend. There should have been some two thousand patrol and guard vessels stationed along the routes the rebels have traversed thus far. Why, then, is there no word of any engagement? Why did they not fight?”

“Two thousand vessels against twenty thousand?”

Since Idris remained silent, one of the officers spoke up hesitantly.

“If we are ordered to fight under such conditions, we shall lose all two thousand vessels and over a hundred thousand men.”

“Are you saying victory is impossible?”

“It… it is difficult to say.”

“Victory is not required.”

“…………?”

“Instead, inflict equivalent losses upon the rebels. Destroy two thousand vessels and kill over a hundred thousand soldiers.”

A wave of agitation swept across the faces of the officers. Idris’ words were nothing short of brutal. He was demanding they fight Ariabert and the others on the premise of their own total annihilation.

“If we can buy even a small amount of time through such a means, we will be able to deploy forty thousand undamaged ships to the front of Uraniborg.”

Idris stood up.

“Uraniborg is an inviolable sanctuary. If we hold out here, with our accumulated supplies, we can maintain our position for five years. If we seize the opportunity to await reinforcements from the various star systems and strike the rebel forces in coordination with both internal and external forces, then victory should be certain. What is it that you all fear?”

Idris’ impassioned speech possessed a certain level of persuasiveness. Certainly, considering the current military strength, it was clear that Idris’ side held the advantage, whether the conflict turned into a short-term decisive battle or a long-term war of attrition.

“However, if we are capable of mobilising at least forty thousand ships, I question the wisdom of entrenching ourselves within Uraniborg without engaging in a single battle.”

“If we possess twice the enemy’s forces yet avoid fleet combat, what will the various national governments think of us?”

Such unspoken voices flew through the air, yet not a single soul possessed the experience of commanding a fleet of forty thousand vessels. Furthermore, with Ariabert as their opponent, no one dared to strongly advocate for a decisive fleet battle.

A single officer’s question broke the silence that lasted for several seconds.

“What shall we do regarding the Emperor of Vardana? He may harbour ill intentions and take advantage of this opportunity.”

“The Emperor?”

Idris, who had only just remembered Harsha VI, gave a derisive snort.

“Leave him be. We have no business with him, and he can do nothing… Still, I wonder, what sort of foolishness is that incompetent ruler even contemplating?”

“I apologise, but we have yet to grasp any specific details.”

“Then, once you have grasped something concrete, report to me again. Until then, there is neither a need nor a worth in responding.”

As he spoke with such chilling detachment, Idris realised that he did not particularly hate Harsha VI. It was Ariabert and Jouslain whom he hated; Harsha VI was not even worth the energy expenditure of his hatred. His heart was so transparently shallow that it was almost pitiable.

The Emperor of Vardana, Harsha VI, was being beset by intermittent fits of euphoria.

The vast majority of his life and mental activity had been consumed by his hatred for Tytania. Now, that very Tytania had splintered and descended into armed conflict.

A sense of passivity, as though his self-control was returning, whispered to Harsha VI’s nerves: Do not rejoice so openly in front of others; it is dangerous. Harsha VI attempted to obey that voice, yet he could not suppress a trembling murmur:

“Tytania… Tytania…”

Duke Zarlisch had already met an untimely end. Harsha VI had secretly raised a toast to that fact, but now it was the turn of the remaining three dukes. He hoped they would not form any alliances. They might as well fight one another to the death. The other two were preferable to Idris, but in the end, Tytania was Tytania.

Thus, when Empress Aisha appeared to check on his mood, the Emperor, while fiddling with a black pearl from planet Igipten, posed a question with haste:

“Regarding the recent events, how about I issue an imperial decree?”

“What do you mean, ‘how about’…?”

“Tytania has split. She has divided into two factions and fallen into internal conflict. I shall issue a decree to one of them, guaranteeing their legitimacy. The other shall be branded a rebel army. I believe this would have a significant political impact.”

The Empress instinctively glanced to her left and right, letting out a silent sigh deep within her chest. It was not that she was passionately in love with her husband, but they had shared a connection for six years, and she felt a sense of responsibility befitting her station.

She whispered, taking care not to wound his feelings:

“What will you do if the one to whom you issue your imperial decree is defeated? I fear that the victor’s wrath will be directed at Your Majesty himself. Should such a thing occur, the imperial lineage of Vardana will be placed in peril. I implore you, Your Majesty, please exercise restraint.”

“M-mmm…”

Harsha VI groaned. Naturally, he had no desire to die, but had she pointed that out more directly, he undoubtedly would have erupted in anger. Empress Aisha understood her husband’s character well and had chosen her words of persuasion with great skill.

“I never wish to lay eyes up at Uraniborg again. To think that a mere subject would look down upon me, their sovereign!”

“However, Your Majesty, should the unthinkable happen and Uraniborg were to drift from its orbit and fall to the surface, the planet Vardana itself would be annihilated.”

A crater nearly one hundred kilometres in diameter would be carved into the earth, and violent storms would whip up trillions of tonnes of dust and debris, obscuring the light of the star. The surface temperature would drop by seven or eight degrees Celsius, and that darkness would persist for twenty years.

“I implore you, do not act in haste. Whether Tytania splits or collapses, Your Majesty’s duty is to ensure that the Imperial Lineage of Vardana continues safely. Prudence should be your first priority.”

At the wise Empress’ counsel, Harsha VI nodded repeatedly, once, twice, and then a third time.

Idris’ anxiety and suspicion regarding the true intentions of Clanner Ajman, who had failed to show himself, had not entirely vanished. However, since Ariabert and Jouslain had departed for planet Bargash, the weight of those concerns had clearly diminished within him. As the moment for a direct confrontation with a formidable foe approached, the necessity of preparing for actual combat had suddenly eclipsed his preoccupation with the Clanner’s true motives. If he were to be caught in the middle of wondering, “What are the Clanner’s true intentions?” only to be struck by Ariabert’s cannon fire, Idris’ name would surely become a synonym for “fool”.

Furthermore, the evidence that Idris clearly descended from the main line of the Tytania bloodline lay in his very defiance at this critical hour.

“If they refuse to appear no matter how much I request it, then let them do as they please. I shall simply do as I see fit. Since they have issued no instructions and shown no right of veto, they have no right to complain about whatever I may do. On the contrary, I shall achieve great feats in the Clanner’s absence and seize actual power. And once I have it, I shall never let it go.”

Thus, Idris ultimately ended up validating the criticisms levelled against him by Ariabert and Jouslain. Using the Clanner’s “absence” as his justification, he began to wield dictatorial power.

There were no visible changes to the daily routines of life or business within Uraniborg. The lowest-ranking Tytania employees were preoccupied with organising data, whispering slanders about their superiors in cheap taverns. The baker fretted over the mixing ratio of Canarisa wheat and Barta barley. Schoolchildren glared at one another, debating whether to reveal their test scores. It was a life that felt like a 3D rendering of “Pax Tytaniana”.

As one ascended the social strata, the superficial calm began to peel away like thin plating. The heads of the countless departments and divisions, while wary of informants and eavesdroppers, could not help but converse with those they deemed trustworthy. They simply could not endure carrying their anxieties alone.

“Could it be that he is truly ill? Or perhaps…”

“What is it? Out with it.”

“Or perhaps… maybe he has already passed away, and Duke Idris is keeping the mourning a secret…”

“You idiot, don’t say such reckless things!”

“You were the one who told me to say it!”

They were on the verge of a scuffle, but at the sight of the Tytania guardsmen’s uniforms, everyone hurriedly sat back down in their chairs, tilting their mugs to hide their faces.

They still enjoyed a carefree status. If every minor offence were met with a purge, society would cease to function. Regardless of who emerged victorious, tax collection and various public services had to be carried out without fail. The people referred to as “petty officials” were, it seemed, indispensable in any era and any nation.

IV

“Are you saying we shall not attack, even though they are passing right before our eyes!?”

“The enemy has twenty thousand ships. We have only five hundred as well as twelve large-calibre guns in the fortress. If we engage, we will be annihilated in less than thirty minutes.”

The commander froze at his command seat. It took ten seconds before he finally managed to squeeze out a word:

“However, if we simply stand by and watch without lifting a finger, we shall face severe punishment from Uraniborg at a later date.”

“With all due respect, I doubt there will be a later date.”

“You wretch, watch your tongue!”

Countless points of light passed orderly before the arguing superior and subordinate. Such a sight could be seen anywhere within the military outposts that Tytania had established across the countless star sectors. The stationed soldiers were, of course, loyal to the pinnacle of Tytania, Uraniborg, yet they were not so fanatical as to challenge a massive army while knowing they were destined for total annihilation.

This was precisely the meaning behind the concentration of troop numbers.

Even if some nation or armed group attempted to attack Ariabert or Jouslain for the sake of glory, they would find it impossible to lay a finger on them in the face of such a massive force of twenty thousand vessels. In the first place, they were neither united nor coordinated, making any proper military operation impossible. Jouslain could easily imagine the commanders of those various armies gathering around a thousand ships, approaching only to watch in stunned silence as the endless line of vessels drifted past.

It was possible that they might even reach Uraniborg without engaging in a single battle along the way. Whenever such a possibility began to bud in Jouslain’s mind, he reprimanded himself, imagining the sting of a slap to his own cheeks and forehead.

However, he was not the only one considering that possibility.

“Ariabert, Jouslain, the advance speed of both dukes is far greater than anticipated. If we do not execute a full-scale interception manoeuvre somewhere, they will be upon Uraniborg before long.”

“However, if we do that, there is a possibility they might seize control of our rear. With Uraniborg ahead and our assembled fleet of some thirty thousand ships behind us… if we are pincered from both sides, it is the end. Would both dukes really take such a risk?”

That was the state of the officers of Uraniborg, speaking amongst themselves in hushed tones.

“This is more the type of deployment used by the late Duke Zarlisch, but there is a strategy to force a melee within the range of Uraniborg’s bombardment. Would we be able to fire our main guns into the midst of such a chaotic fray, with friend and foe all intermingled?”

“Even under normal circumstances we wouldn’t be able to fire…”

The voices grew even lower.

“If it were Duke Idris, he might just do it.”

“Indeed.”

Perhaps as a result of his outward efforts, Idris was often perceived as a man who would use any means necessary to achieve his goals. Consequently, individuals such as Emperor Harsha VI of Vardana had lost their peace of mind, fearing assassination.

Just as Jouslain’s thoughts began to lean towards a somewhat optimistic direction, there was another who was leaning towards the opposite. This was, of course, Duke Idris Tytania, who had been made acutely aware of the low morale amongst his allies.

In a fit of rage, Idris swept his hand across the command table. Documents danced through the air, the intercom was slammed against the floor, and even coffee cups and saucers went flying. Rising from his command seat, Idris had become a mere embodiment of fury.

“The lack of fighting spirit amongst you gentlemen makes it impossible to avoid my disappointment. I am not asking you to launch certain-defeat attacks with mere squads of a hundred ships. However, what are you thinking by continuously avoiding combat and allowing the enemy to approach?!”

The assembly responded to the young duke with silence. Idris, his eyes smouldering like molten lava, glared down at them.

“Inflict damage upon those rebels, even if only a little, even if only a fraction, to let them know exactly where the will of Uraniborg lies. Such is the spirit that those in the Tytania high command ought naturally to possess! For what purpose have you eaten the wages of Tytania until this day?”

There was no reply.

“Does no one have any objections? Then, I shall take it that there is no disagreement with my orders.”

The officers exchanged glances. Since their youth, they had been conditioned, both mentally and physically, to obey the Clanner and Dukes of Tytania. Yet, they were also professional soldiers, and at least at the tactical level, they possessed more knowledge and experience than Idris.

“If the forces stationed across these fifteen fortresses were to be gathered, how many ships would that be?”

From amongst the officers exchanging glances, one replied with a heavy breath:

“Approximately four thousand six hundred ships.”

“Approximately? Fine, that is enough. Gather those four thousand six hundred ships at a single location immediately. The location is here.”

Idris did not so much press a button as slam his finger down upon it. The Bianville System.

“We shall lie in wait for the rebels here and challenge them to battle.”

Idris’ calculation was to force Ariabert and Jouslain’s forces to bleed. He intended to launch repeated attacks with a fleet of four to five thousand ships, denying them rest and forcing them to waste manpower, food, and ammunition, thereby diminishing their total strength even by a small margin. Naturally, the forces at Uraniborg would also suffer considerable damage, but he was prepared for that.

On the other hand, the forty thousand ships under Idris’ control, both inside and outside Uraniborg, were to be kept intact and preserved. This was for the final battle. He would encircle Ariabert and Jouslain within the sector visible from Uraniborg and annihilate them literally. Idris’ blood boiled, driving away all reason.

“… What should we do of it?”

A voice struck his auditory organs, so jarring that Idris felt an impulse to snap back, and he jolted out of his reverie. Having missed the initial whisper, he seemed to have been addressed loudly this time. If he were to reply with a mere “What?”, his momentary lapse in focus would be discovered, so Idris endeavoured to feign as calm a tone as possible.

“What are your thoughts?”

“Well…”

“You may speak freely.”

“Well, even with a force of nearly five thousand vessels assembled, I believe we must look to Your Grace Idris’ explicit instructions as to whom shall be appointed to the role of supreme commander. After all, as the commanders of each fleet are of equal rank, I would wish for the selection to be made under Your Grace’s authority…”

Idris barely managed to suppress a click of his tongue. Was he truly expected to handpick even the commanders of minor forces numbering a mere hundred or a thousand ships? He wanted to tell them to just do it themselves, but it was Idris’ own ancestors who had instilled such excessive awe of the five Tytania families throughout the entire army.

“If there is no significant difference in ability, let’s go by seniority. Who is the eldest?”

“Commodore J. L. Fokine, but…”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

Of course, Idris did not voice those words; at most, he merely gave a haughty nod.

“Then Commodore Fokine shall suffice. Should the need arise for personnel reasons, I shall permit his promotion to Rear-admiral.”

“But… are you certain, your Grace?”

“About what?”

The generals exchanged glances once more before one of them answered with newfound boldness.

“Commodore Fokine was once recognised for his merits by Duke Ariabert who promoted him from captain…”

Idris had suppressed his outburst on several occasions just before it escaped him. It was true that he had heard irresponsible rumours claiming that the combat-orientated generals of the Tytania army were split into three factions: the Ariabert faction, the Zarlisch faction, and the neutral faction.

For a few moments, Idris remained silent, but then he was struck by a sudden revelation. He brought his hand to his lips with a sardonic smile.

“Very well then. Let us replace Commodore Fokine with another man. I have found a suitable candidate.”

“As Your Grace commands… and who might that person be?”

“Fan Hyulick.”

“……!”

A wave of astonishment surged, filling the vast room. Had the words Idris had spoken previously been nothing more than a flight of fancy? After gauging the reactions of those present, Idris continued.

“I have already granted that individual two thousand ships. Once they rendezvous with our allies, the fleet will number six thousand six hundred. Furthermore, if I grant them the authority to conscript forces from each star system along the way, it shall reach nearly ten thousand. It promises to be an interesting contest.”

“B-but…”

“Are you questioning why I would choose someone who was Tytania’s public enemy until only a few days ago? Your concerns are reasonable, but if you were going to raise this point now, why did you not say so at the very beginning?”

Mocked in such a manner, the generals could do nothing but stand there in silence.

“The rebels are likely aiming for a decisive battle by committing their entire force at once. If Fan Hyulick’s ten thousand ships were to intercept them, it would significantly disrupt their strategy. It matters not if we suffer losses. Uraniborg can meet the rebels with forty thousand ships entirely unscathed. Whether Fan Hyulick lives or dies is of no consequence, for he is, after all, no loyal subject of the old Tytania.”

As far as ideas went, it was indeed a mere whim. However, the fact that Idris had been able to formulate it into a strategy within such a short time and overwhelm the elder generals was a testament to his extraordinary genius.

“If there are no objections, arrange for this to be carried out immediately.”

The generals pressed their right fists to their left shoulders in a Tytania-style salute, then withdrew, looking utterly dejected.

“Useless lot,” muttered Idris under his breath as he sat back down in his command seat.

Though they were the “rebel army”—formerly the Bargash Expeditionary Force, now commanded by Ariabert and Jouslain—not a single vessel had defected or dropped out from the twenty thousand ships in the fleet. For Idris, this was a significant miscalculation.

The reason was that the trust and devotion the soldiers held for Ariabert and Jouslain far outweighed what they felt for him. It was not something he could assert and leave it at that.

The war was inherently lacking in legitimacy. From the perspective of the Tytania soldiers, it could be said that the three dukes were merely engaged in private warfare during the absence of the Clanner. However, this private war was the largest in the universe, and the outcome would determine the next hegemon. Since maintaining neutrality was nearly impossible, the final victory would depend on which side could garner more allies. The best way to increase one’s allies was to demonstrate victory in actual combat.

“I expect you to make yourself useful, Hyulick.”

Idris’ military career was the polar opposite of Fan Hyulick’s. He had never fought an enemy under disadvantageous circumstances. Ariabert was much the same, but Hyulick had been participating in actual combat since the age of twenty-five, accumulating experience through battles involving tens and then hundreds of ships, honing both the eye for seizing victory and the skill to achieve results efficiently. Why not put him to good use for Idris’ sake? After all, he had been feeding him in exchange for nothing this whole time.

V

Ariabert’s flagship, the Golden Sheep, and Jouslain’s vessel, the Austra, were sailing alongside each other near the very centre of the massive spindle formation. The cruising speed of the twenty thousand ships was as fast as possible for a force of such scale.

Ariabert and Jouslain had neither the need nor the obligation to wait for Idris’ forces to be fully assembled. It was a viable option to strike a decisive military blow while Idris was still unprepared to respond and the other nations stood by as mere spectators. The victorious side would leave the other nations with no choice but to accept a state of “friendly submission”, and a new order would be established in the blink of an eye.

There was another strategy: to wait and allow their forces to be reinforced over time, but such a course of action risked granting the enemy time to strengthen themselves as well. Furthermore, there was a danger that the scales of victory, which were currently balanced on a precarious equilibrium, might tip unilaterally due to some unforeseen accident; thus, a protracted war was undesirable.

Even if Idris’ forces numbered eighty thousand ships, was there anyone to command them? It could be none other than Lord Idris, or perhaps the Clanner himself. Furthermore, if it were true that the Clanner lay bedridden with illness, it would be impossible for Lord Idris to leave Uraniborg.

If that were the case, someone would be needed to act as commander in his stead, with his full confidence. Jouslain reckoned that, at this moment, Fan Hyulick was the only one capable of achieving such a feat. However, it would not be without conditions.

To what extent would Fan Hyulick truly be an ally to Idris?

The doubts harboured by Ariabert and Jouslain were, in truth, Fan Hyulick’s own doubts as well.

“I wonder if there is any actual benefit for him to siding with Idris.”

“Wasn’t he appointed commander of the Elbing Expeditionary Force by his direct command?”

Naturally, Jouslain and the others had no way of knowing of this conversation with Doctor Lee, but they found it utterly inconceivable that Idris had won the devotion of Fan Hyulick. Depending on Hyulick’s ambition and fortune, he might be able to turn against Idris.

Suddenly, an alarm rang out. The frigate leading the vanguard of the fleet had discovered a cluster of light points that did not belong to their allies. There were approximately one thousand ship silhouettes. Their relative velocity was not high. A transmission was immediately sent from the frigate.

“A message to your fleet. Declare your intentions within five minutes. Surrender? Negotiation? Neutrality? Or shall combat commence?”

In response to this stern inquiry, the reply came extremely quickly.

“If I had to name it, I’d say it’s a surrender.”

“If you had to name it?”

“Ariabert, Jouslain, I wish to side with both Dukes. I am Rear-Admiral Moss Dryden. I would be honoured if His Grace Ariabert still remembers me.”

As he heard this, Ariabert searched his memory. On two previous occasions, he had fought with Rear-Admiral Dryden under his command and had ample opportunity to recognise his considerable competence.

About fifteen minutes later, Dryden’s fleet was leading the entire armada, charging through the sea of stars. Having a defector take the vanguard of the entire army served as a tangible manifestation of their pledge that they would never betray them.

Watching this unexpected turn of events, Jouslain reflected. There was no turning back now. If they fought and lost, there was only death. Alternatively, there was the possibility of being imprisoned for life, but should such a fate befall them, Jouslain had no intention of enduring it.

Whether his opponent was Idris or Clanner Ajman, this battle—which had been unimaginable even a year ago—would demand every ounce of Jouslain’s vitality. As this feeling intensified with each passing day, Jouslain was secretly astonished. What was even more startling, however, was the emergence of an entirely new, deeply personal thought:

“What will become of Francia after I am dead?”

Jouslain believed that Francia had no obligation to follow him into death. He had already deposited enough money into her account to ensure she could live the rest of her life without hardship. All that remained was for her to decide her own path for her later years. He had believed this and thus had not thought further upon it. Yet, this newly born thought was rapidly growing.

“… No, this is no time to be thinking such things.”

As Jouslain shook his head, a bright voice rang out, announcing the arrival of a young guest. Princess Lydia’s favourite hat swayed with vigour.

Because her homeland had escaped its immediate crisis, the princess of the Kingdom of Elbing was overjoyed. She threw her arms around Ariabert and Jouslain in turn to express her gratitude, and once she had calmed down slightly, she swore upon her honour to bestow as much reward as possible upon the two of them as saviours of her nation. In truth, at that moment, while Ariabert found the sight endearing, what came to his mind was a cheap gold-plated medal, while Jouslain pictured a mountain of Elbing potatoes.

“Lord Jouslain, may I interrupt you?”

“Please, Princess. My door is always open for you.”

Jouslain offered the princess a seat on the sofa and stepped away from his desk. He deliberately ignored the sight of Francia, who had followed the princess in.

“So, how may I be of service?”

“Well, there is something that has been weighing on my mind…”

“Ah, please forgive my carelessness.”

He could not allow Princess Lydia or Francia to be taken to the battlefield. They had to be moved to somewhere safe, and the time had come to make a definitive decision.

“No, that is not it.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“It is regarding the Clanner’s true intentions. That man has finally driven the dukes into battle. It is not in the best interest of the Tytania as a whole. Why is that?”

“I… I cannot say for certain myself.”

“Even you cannot fathom it, Lord Jouslain?”

“I truly do not know.”

Answering honestly, Jouslain gazed at Princess Lydia. If he did not, his eyes would instinctively wander toward Francia.

“If even you cannot understand it after thinking so hard, Lord Jouslain, then perhaps it is the opponent who is acting strange.”

“… Strange?”

“Yes, I do think it is strange. Lord Jouslain, you are a very intelligent man, but if you rely solely on logic, you surely won’t understand.”

“Is that so? Strange?”

For some reason, Jouslain felt a sense of agitation.

Humans didn’t always think, judge, and act with pure rationality. There were countless examples of proof of the contrary. Jouslain believed he was well aware of this, even without Princess Lydia’s simple observation.

Nevertheless, he was caught completely off guard. He had been lost in thought even as Francia brought the tea, ginger ale, and chocolate cake to the table and arranged them there.

For the one who possessed the greatest and most absolute power, reigning above all others, to lose his mental equilibrium in deep quiet silence without a single person around him noticing the truth? Could this truly be possible?

It was not until nearly a minute had passed that Jouslain realised Francia had been staring intently at him as he sat lost in thought.

Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System

I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that didn’t come to pass.

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

“Assume Semi-A Class battle formation!”

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

Ariabert directed a question to the reconnaissance officer:

“How many enemies are there?”

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

“That is tricky.”

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

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

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

“I agree.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, quite right.”

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

“However, I believe Idris is sitting there.”

“Was he also one who harboured such aspirations?”

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

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

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

Captain Edna Fredericks’ resolute voice called out to him:

“Your Grace, may I submit an opinion?”

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Captain Fredericks responded with utmost gravity:

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, very well.”

“Will you not ask why?”

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

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

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

“Why have you not attacked?”

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

“The timing was not yet right.”

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

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

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

“Not necessarily.”

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

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

“Do not spout such nonsense!”

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

II

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doctor Lee adopted the tone of a lecturer.

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

“I don’t find that amusing at all.”

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

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

Even Miranda had begun to chime in.

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

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

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

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

“Which side fired first!?”

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

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

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

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

“It is a formation focused on defence.”

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

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

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

“It would be difficult. Besides…”

“Besides?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seraphine countered Doctor Lee’s cold remark:

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

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

“……!”

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

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

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

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

“No…”

Ariabert shook his head.

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

“Is the Austra safe?”

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

“Fire a second volley!”

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

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

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

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

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

III

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hail Tytania!”

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

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

“The enemy’s movements have changed.”

“In what manner?”

“Please see for yourself, Your Grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ariabert stroked his well-defined jaw.

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

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

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

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

Ariabert reached a decision.

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

After a brief pause, he added:

“Go all-out.”

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

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

One of Radmoth’s subordinates shouted:

“Part of their formation has collapsed!”

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

“Stop, do not go in!”

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

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

Towards the gateway of death.

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

“Three against one?!” groaned Mahdi.

“If we are cornered, it is all over.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ve been beaten.”

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, Doctor Lee’s scope of conversation expanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seal Block G! Seal Block G!”

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

“Wait! I’m still alive!”

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

“… How terrible.”

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

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

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

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

IV

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

“We’ve lost at the strategic stage.”

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

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

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

“But the failure lies with our underachiever here…”

The surrounding gazes shifted to the Doctor’s side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hyulick remained lost in silent thought.

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

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

“Using Tytania to subdue Tytania.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He paused for a breath before continuing.

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

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

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

“There is no meaning in fighting any further.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t move! Drop your weapons!”

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

“One problem solved, what a happy ending.”

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

They fled in disorder.

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

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

It was only natural that such feelings were so strong.

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

Jouslain silently returned his gaze to the screen.

A different scene unfolded aboard the Honest Old Man Junior.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about Baron Radmoth?”

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

“Good work.”

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

“Should we kill him?”

In response to Walenkov’s question, Pagès shrugged:

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

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

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

Miranda laughed heartily.

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

The Honest Old Man Junior made a magnificent escape.

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

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

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

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

“Do you think Hyulick will return?”

“What?! What did you say…?

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

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

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

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

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

“What about Count Elman?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hail Tytania!”

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

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

Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma

I

Since the combatants were both Tytania, if the victor was Tytania, then the loser was also Tytania. The media across the entire universe was faced with the difficult task of deciding how to report the outcome of the battle. Looking at the figures regarding the losses, it was patently clear “which Tytania” had emerged victorious, but fact, perception, and expression were three entirely different things.

The majority of the media in human society fell under the control of Tytania capital. This, too, was a frustrating reality for those involved. If they became too closely entwined with the current rulers, they risked facing purges in the next era; however, if they praised the victor too highly and the outcome was overturned in the next conflict, the consequences would be utterly disastrous.

Thus, the majority of the media chose the path of adhering to “objective reporting”. They presented figures for the losses sustained by both the Uraniborg faction and the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance, reported the official statements issued by each side verbatim, and included star charts and navigational maps, while strictly avoiding commentary. Their aim was to leave the final judgement entirely to the observer.

Consequently, for the general public with no connection to military affairs, the strategic significance of the Battle of the Hasdrubal System remained utterly unfathomable. Based on the casualties reported for both armies, it appeared that the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance had achieved a great victory. Yet, there was a growing consensus that Uraniborg still held immense forces in reserve, making a reversal of fortune highly possible… This general understanding, however, served only to frustrate both those reporting the news and those consuming it. As a result…

“Flukes don’t happen thrice—the fallen idol, Fan Hyulick.”

The young man selected as the sacrificial goat was a carrot-haired youth who, until very recently, had even been misidentified as the “Commander-in-Chief of the anti-Tytania Allied Forces”. When Hyulick had appeared in the cosmos by defeating the undefeated Ariabert with a brilliant stratagem, the jubilant media moguls had all turned their palms at once. If wind pressure had existed in outer space, it would have surely knocked out of orbit a planet or two.

Now, while avoiding any contact with spacecraft, they headed towards the direction of planet Ementhal for the time being. Inside the fleeing Honest Old Man Junior, the pirates wore gloom-ridden expressions. All the dreams, hopes, and calculations they had been so heavily laden with until just a few days ago had been cast aside somewhere in the depths of space.

Doctor Lee tossed several of the published articles onto the table.

“They say even Hell has a bottom. There is a certain pleasure in breaking through that floor and seeing just how much further one can fall.”

“Only if there is a guarantee that we can ascend again.”

Hyulick replied in a sullen tone, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. It still felt as though a dull ache remained. Ever since regaining consciousness, Hyulick had harboured no ill will toward Walenkov, the one who had carried out the act. It was men like Doctor Lee whom he found far more loathsome.

“It isn’t so bad. Perhaps you feel relieved to be liberated from such a hollow reputation.”

Mahdi pricked Hyulick with a needle of sarcasm. Miranda attempted to soothe the tension.

“Well, try not to be too disheartened. Even if it is a shame.”

“Not really. Nothing good ever came of it, even when people were praising me for whatever it was.”

Hyulick’s response was curt. In truth, over the past year, he had been hunted as an enemy of Tytania, imprisoned, escaped, only to be captured once more; the woman he had loved was killed, and just when he thought he had finally taken his revenge, he himself had been treated as the villain and nearly killed. He had not known a single day of peace, having been tossed about in a whirlpool of politics, warfare, and intrigue, only to end up in this wretched state.

“Babylon, Troy, Rome, Carthage—all were destined to reach their final day…”

“Which planets are you even talking about?”

“They were empires that existed in the distant past. Each reached the height of prosperity, only to fall.”

“So, it is the same for Tytania?”

“Nothing is eternal. Even the universe itself will vanish in some tens of billions of years.”

“That has nothing to do with me. As long as I can eat a decent omelette tonight, I am satisfied.”

Hyulick clasped his hands behind his head.

There were no profound feelings regarding the defeat. While he could not help but feel a sense of guilt toward the fallen soldiers, as for Idris Tytania, he felt like telling him, “It’s your own fault for choosing me.”

Regarding Ariabert Tytania, he felt that losing this time was only natural, so there was no bitterness. If anything, he even felt as though he had settled a debt. It was strange, but he had actually harboured a feeling that he had been unfairly tarnishing Ariabert’s reputation until now.

“Yes, yes, let’s have ham and onion omelettes for dinner tonight, then.”

Seraphine dismissed him lightly.

In the end, humanity did not abandon the flora and fauna of nature in favour of consuming synthetic foods. As they abandoned their ancient, primordial home planet and journeyed one after another into outer space, what were installed within the migration ships were not factories for producing synthetic food but rather hydroponic farms and livestock rearing units.

The flora and fauna of Earth were introduced upon planets habitable or terraformed. Naturally, this drew fierce criticism from those advocating for the preservation of celestial environments, but such opposition proved powerless against the human desire to expand their living space. As long as they remained confined to their original home planets, the human population could not exceed ten billion.

As a result of the choices made by ancestors many dozens of generations ago, chickens were being raised even on the surfaces of planets hundreds of light-years away from Earth, and a young man with carrot-coloured hair was eating the eggs they produced.

Whether they won or lost, whether they pursued or fled, they were hungry. The healthy fugitives took their seats at the dining hall table.

“I wonder just what the Tytania Clanner is thinking.”

“Who knows?”

“Heh, so there are things even the Doctor doesn’t understand, then?”

“It might be surprising, but that is indeed the case.”

Answering with such composure to Hyulick, who had become like an unruly toddler, Doctor Lee quietly returned the overly chewy bread to his plate.

“While I was at Uraniborg, I hoped to meet the Clanner somehow… I didn’t care about the formality, whether it was an audience or a mere sighting. I just wanted to look into those eyes directly.”

Doctor Lee shook his head slightly.

“When you think about it, it is quite something. Without even showing himself, the Clanner’s presence weighs upon the entire universe. Billions of people entrust their fates and their very lives to a single word of his.”

“I wonder when he will actually appear before the public.”

As Pagès spoke, twirling pasta around his fork, Miranda responded:

“Perhaps he is simply waiting for the most effective moment?”

“For example?”

“Well, let’s see. How about this: Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain thoroughly defeat Duke Idris, and just as Uraniborg is on the verge of falling, he makes his grand appearance?”

“And then, by delivering a single sharp reprimand to both Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain, he strikes such fear into them that they surrender immediately, thereby upholding the Clanner’s authority?”

Mahdi picked up his coffee cup.

“That sounds a bit… no, it sounds very much like a cheap three-cent melodrama. Don’t you think? If even a single step goes wrong, the entire cast and the stage itself will plummet into the orchestra pit.”

“No, it is entirely possible.”

Multiple gazes converged upon Doctor Lee.

“Mahdi aptly referred to it as a piece of theatre, and I, too, certainly shared that impression. If things continue as they are, Tytania will fracture, the universe will fall into chaos, and the people will yearn for order and a powerful leader.”

Hyulick swallowed the last morsel of his omelette.

“Even so, at this late stage, will both dukes kneel before the Clanner? Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain have complete control over their forces, and they are already closing in on Uraniborg. Do you really think they would choose to surrender without a fight now?”

“Uraniborg still commands a massive force.”

“Well, if they scrambled enough resources, they could likely call upon ten or twenty thousand ships from various regions to rush to the aid of Uraniborg. But the question is, who would take overall command?”

Fan Hyulick’s reputation was ruined by this recent defeat. Truth be told, the one most relieved by this was Hyulick himself; it was perhaps a matter of irony, or perhaps a lack of virtue, but aside from his mastery of ambush tactics, the young man possessed nothing more than the shrewdness of a commoner.

“If a military genius were to suddenly appear from out of nowhere and annihilate the armies of Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain just as they were on the verge of a complete victory. That person would be able to make the entire universe bow before them.”

“That’s a pipe dream, Doctor. There’s no way someone like that exists.”

“He might exist.”

“As if such a convenient story could exist in reality.”

“No, he really truly might. It is simply that we have been ignoring him.”

The group looked at one another, and each saw a look of unease reflected on the others’ faces.

“Who are you talking about, Doctor?”

“Clanner Ajman himself.”

II

“Now hold on, we were just discussing the authority of the Clanner. There is no doubt that his authority is immense. However, I have never heard that the man himself was a master of military affairs. He has always left those matters entirely to Ariabert and Zarlisch, has he not?”

“It may simply be that the opportunity never arose. A situation where the Clanner himself would need to step forward to face a formidable foe. That is why he remained ensconced within Uraniborg. However, now that both Ariabert and Zarlisch are gone…”

Hyulick ran his hands through his hair with great agitation.

“Uh… what, I mean, Doctor, are you actually serious?”

“It is an expected question. Yes… I believe it is, at the very least, a hypothesis worthy of consideration. It is just that the thought only occurred to me very recently.”

Doctor Lee folded his arms in his seat.

“Since his enthronement as Clanner, Ajman has reigned over Tytania without incident, maintaining stability. If that stability were to suddenly collapse into division and instability, and if we were to remain absent during such a moment, even the smallest cracks would expand rapidly…”

Rough footsteps echoed, and Mahdi burst into the room with such momentum that the automatic door could barely keep up. It was said that when Mahdi went to check on Baron Radmoth, who was being held confined in the restroom, the Baron had shouted at him:

“I am a noble of Tytania! I demand treatment befitting my station. Otherwise, you ill-mannered thieves will regret this in due time!”

“Treatment, he says. Honestly, these nobles…”

It seemed as though Mahdi had adjusted his vocal cords so that when he pronounced “treatment”, it sounded more like “mistreatment”.

“Well, I’m technically a noble too, you know.”

Miranda gave a sardonic laugh.

“Good grief, what on earth do you intend to do with that worthless scion? He’s nothing but a walking waste of space, grandly squandering oxygen and food.”

“I believe the plan was to stuff him into a capsule and toss him out once we reached the vicinity of a suitable planet.”

“Without even caching in the cost of his upkeep? There’s always the option of just getting rid of him for good.”

“That might be exactly what Duke Idris has in mind, though.”

“You mean to say we’re meant to trouble ourselves just to rid him of a useless younger brother?”

“Something like that.”

As Doctor Lee replied half-heartedly, Seraphine shrugged her shoulders.

“But he is his own flesh and blood. Would he truly go that far?”

“Similar things have happened many times throughout Tytania’s history. However, once someone is taken prisoner alive, killing them when they are unable to resist is a poor way to start one’s day.”

“Why not just let things go according to Duke Idris’ plans for once? Regardless, while the Duke was a disagreeable fellow, he did feed us quite delicious meals back at Uraniborg.”

“Well, that is true, I suppose.”

“You agree, don’t you, Miranda? In that case…”

“In that case, Mahdi, why don’t you just put Baron Radmoth out of his misery with a single shot?”

“You want me to do it!?”

“Whosoever argues most forcefully shall carry out the deed.”

As Doctor Lee spoke in a light, almost sing-song voice, Mahdi puffed out his cheeks.

“I’ll pass on that.”

“I have no desire to shoot an unarmed man.”

“That is one thing, but… no, let’s skip the sanctimonious talk. I simply do not want that rich kid standing by my bedside every single night!”

A burst of raucous laughter broke the momentary silence. Mahdi was just as terrified of ghosts as he was of losing money.

“Well, there is no need to change the original plan abruptly. If we happen to encounter a Tytania vessel, he should be useful as a hostage.”

One after another, those who agreed with Doctor Lee’s conclusion nodded in unison, and the Honest Old Man Junior sped through the abyss of space, carrying roughly one individual demanding improved treatment.

Ariabert and Jouslain gave Idris no time.

Regardless of Idris’ qualities as a leader, he possessed the trump card of being a Clanner, which could turn the tide entirely. They could not afford to give him the time required to play it. At a speed that might be described as “reckless haste”, Ariabert advanced the fleet, closing in on Uraniborg.

This took almost everyone, both within and without Tytania, by complete surprise. It had been assumed that after achieving victory in the Hasdrubal System, Ariabert and his allies would temporarily cease hostilities for the sake of rest and negotiations. Those few who had already taken a stance and the majority who were preoccupied with their own calculations while watching the situation unfold could do nothing but stand by, utterly helpless.

Thus, forty-eight hours after the Battle of the Hashtbal System had ended, the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain closed within a mere two and a half light-seconds of Uraniborg, and the sight of artificial celestial bodies shimmering on the screens was projected in great detail.

“Uraniborg.”

“To think we would be returning in such a manner.”

The soldiers whispered amongst themselves.

The artificial celestial bodies floating in the void appeared like massive, iridescent jewels resting upon black silk.

The clusters of stars shimmering in the background appeared as nothing more than grains of silver sand, accentuating its majestic beauty. The soldiers, having departed from these artificial celestial bodies as part of the Bargash expeditionary force, had now returned to lay siege to it. Their emotions were nothing short of complex.

Because they held Ariabert and Jouslain in such high esteem, they had followed the command of the two dukes, returning from their occupied position in Bargash to this place. Uraniborg stood before their eyes. Even upon seeing it, what welled up within their hearts was not hostility but awe.

Ariabert and Jouslain spoke vaguely about the future, their eyes shifting between the screen and the soldiers.

“I am no politician. Lord Jouslain, if we survive this war, I shall leave everything else to you.”

“I don’t think this is right. Lord Ariabert, I am certain you are capable of making just judgements in politics as well.”

“The same could be said of you, Lord Jouslain. Military matters are but a small fraction of politics, surely.”

“I have no desire to stand at the summit. If anyone were to stand there, it would suit you much better, Lord Ariabert.”

The two of them shared a wry smile, realising they were merely praising one another.

“We certainly lack what one might call Tytanian ambition.”

“Only Idris possesses it. And he carries the weight of us both.”

“I do not think him as incompetent, but if he intends to shoulder it all alone, he shall need another arm.”

They both imagined Idris, ensconced within the heart of Uraniborg, being forced into solitary thought and decision.

How might the situation have changed if Ariabert and Jouslain had turned the planet Bargash, which they occupied, into their base for a long-term war? Tytania would have been geographically divided, with each side gathering its own allies; Ariabert and Jouslain might have abandoned their masquerade as “supranational mega-corporations” to establish new, separate states.

That was not what happened. The Bargash military, implicated in the death of Duke Zarlisch Tytania, did not join Ariabert’s forces; instead, they remained within their own territory, merely observing the “domestic strife” within Tytania.

Once it was determined that Tytania’s power had waned, every force in the universe would swarm to tear away its interests. Much like the fierce carnivores that gathered around the dying carcass of a massive herbivorous dinosaur in the ancient past.

The current situation had changed drastically from just one year ago. The two young dukes felt no sense of the fact that it was their own hands that had brought this about.

“Had Zarlisch been alive, things would have been entirely different. If that man had charged head-on with thirty thousand ships, we would have had no choice but to flee.”

They were now using the Austra as their joint flagship. In preparation for the next tactical deployment, they had reached an agreement to maintain close communication and to employ further stratagems.

Ariabert and Jouslain expressed their condolences to the bereaved families of the soldiers who had died in the previous battle, and visited the beds of the wounded one by one, squeezing their hands to convey their gratitude. To put it somewhat ironically, it was only possible because their numbers were so few, yet it was enough to move the troops; their cheeks flushed and their hands trembled as they swore even greater loyalty.

Furthermore, the presence of Princess Lydia played a significant role. This little princess shed tears for the deceased and, for the wounded, she threw herself into her efforts like an apprentice angel, embracing them with smiles, kissing their cheeks, and stroking their wounds over their bandages.

At the bedside of one soldier, she looked upon the photograph of his family held up by his pillow, asked for the names of each person, and promised that she would pray for his safe return. The soldier was moved to tears, appearing almost ready to swear his allegiance to Princess Lydia rather than to Ariabert or Jouslain.

Francia also assisted the Princess. Following her lead, she spoke to the soldiers and distributed water; when the Princess grew exhausted and fell asleep, Francia carried her to a bed before continuing on her own to move amongst the soldiers to offer them comfort. She did not stop with the wounded in their beds but went around delivering provisions to the soldiers who were resting as well.

Francia’s pure beauty and modest manner encouraged the soldiers, much like Princess Lydia’s enthusiasm. In some cases, it was even more so; there were soldiers who grasped her extended hand with both of their hands, lost in a trance, and one even leaned so far forward to watch her graceful figure depart that he tumbled right out of his bed. He became the casualty in this battle who received the least sympathy from his comrades.

Thus, the morale of the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain showed no signs of waning, appearing ready to engage in the next battle without delay.

III

An hour after Princess Lydia had drifted into the land of sleep, a frantic report arrived. A fleet of vessels was approaching at ten o’clock.

“How many vessels?”

“They appear to be approximately three thousand to three thousand five hundred.”

“Keep the communication channels open. They may attempt to propose negotiations.”

However, ten seconds later, Ariabert was forced to issue a new order. The appearing fleet had opened their gun ports without any prior warning.

Hundreds of spears of light caused slight fissures in the hulls of the great ships, but they were unable to pierce through or shatter them. Naturally, the forces of Ariabert and Jouslain returned fire simultaneously, and the surrounding space was instantly filled with fireballs and flashes of light.

“Lord Jouslain, do you have any thoughts?”

“As I said, I shall leave everything to you, Lord Ariabert.”

“You insolent man.”

Ariabert gave a wry smile but immediately hardened his expression and cast his gaze toward the tactical screen. He extended one wing of the fleet to the front left, instantly assuming a semi-encirclement formation.

“Their strategy is nothing unusual. In fact, it is so orthodox it could be pulled straight from a tactical textbook.”

“Then what shall we do?”

“We shall respond in kind.”

Ariabert gave a light laugh, but rather than taking his seat at the command station, he remained standing and began issuing orders one after another. Light and shadow drifted alternately across his face.

Jouslain, who had moved to a seat further back to yield the command station to Ariabert, smiled as he noticed a certain sight. He could see a female officer standing close by Ariabert’s left side. It was the captain, Edna Fredericks.

As his gaze drifted, he noticed a white hand resting against the back of his own seat. Jouslain moved his hand, lightly overlapping it with the white back of hers. He did not need to look to know that Francia, the owner of the hand, had flushed crimson.

“Idris is holding back his strength.”

Ariabert tilted his head slightly.

“If forty thousand ships were to set out simultaneously from multiple ports, we would be hard-pressed to respond. However, even if they launched an offensive in units of one thousand from a single location, it should only result in attrition. What do you think, Lord Jouslain?”

Ariabert kept his eyes fixed on the screen. Consequently, Jouslain was able to leave his hand resting upon Francia’s.

“I do not believe Idris is foolish enough to commit his forces in such piecemeal fashion…”

Jouslain’s suspicions grew. Ariabert frowned faintly.

“It is less a matter of Idris’ character and more that the situation necessitates it. Holding an impregnable castle and a force double our size, he cannot afford to lose. Perhaps he intends to sacrifice just enough to the very limit, to observe our tactics and fleet movements for his future benefit.”

The battle continued. Even if they were few in number, more than three thousand vessels were deployed.

It seemed as though the Battle of Hashtbal was being reenacted.

Ariabert opened the gate of his formation, adopting a stance intended to lure the enemy ships inside. In response, the fleet from Uraniborg approached the gate but did not charge through; instead, they rained fire into the formation from the outside. It appeared as though they might fall for the stratagem, but after an exchange of gunfire had lasted for some time, another gate opened, and light cruisers and destroyers surged forward.

From that point on, the battle became a one-sided affair. Under the brunt of the shrewd flanking manoeuvres, the Uraniborg fleet attempted to distance itself from the enemy’s fire, creating numerous fireballs and flashes in the process. It was a natural fleet movement, yet it resulted in exposing their entire flank directly to the open gate. Large-calibre spears of light thrust out from within the gate in quick succession, engulfing two or three ships in flames with a single flash.

In less than ten minutes, the number of Uraniborg vessels had fallen to less than half.

Within the various ships of the Uraniborg fleet, which found themselves in a desperate situation, heated arguments broke out amidst the rising steam of blood.

“To die in a battle like this is ridiculous. We’ll be sent back at the very gates of Hell. Our ship is withdrawing from the battle line immediately!”

While some screamed such things, others, with red-stained bandages wrapped around their heads, offered rebuttals.

“Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain are now public enemies of Tytania. Are you truly intending to surrender to such men!?”

“I did not say surrender. I said withdraw.”

“If you withdraw from the battle line here, what then? You will be charged with mutiny or desertion! You will spend the rest of your life running, and if you are caught, it will be death.”

“And who exactly would such charges?”

“That would be Duke Idris…”

The conversation ceased, and the soldiers exchanged glances. If this had been Clanner Ajman, no one would have even dared to utter the words ‘withdraw from the battlefield’. Idris’ very position relied upon the Clanner’s authority. He had yet to prove just how much he could achieve without the Clanner’s presence.

“Once things have come to this, we should simply surrender to Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain together. They would have no reason to punish us, and our forces would be strengthened. There is no point in swearing loyalty to Duke Idris at a time like this.”

“But if we surrender, will Duke Ariabert’s faction accept us? Besides, if in the end Duke Idris happens to emerge victorious…”

“There is no need to worry about such future possibilities!”

“Calm down. If we do that, it will be considered treason. We will be haunted by the disgrace.”

The fireballs blooming across the screen belonged almost entirely to the forces of Uraniborg.

“Why would it be treason? We are merely subordinates of Tytania. The ones we are surrendering to are the pillars of Tytania, Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain. There is no need to feel inferior!”

At that moment, Idris was watching the course of the battle from the combat command room. Ariabert’s insight had been almost entirely correct. The reason Idris had deployed an awkward number of three thousand ships was to uncover the true nature of Ariabert’s strategy. However, he was now being overcome by a regret that came far too late.

“Damn it, I should have taken hostages from Hyulick’s faction…!”

Looking back, he had been far too generous when the Blaze Flag Army first arrived at Uraniborg. From Idris’ position, he would not have faced any criticism had he treated them not as guests but as surrendering foes.

It was naive of him, to be sure. However, given his upbringing, Idris possessed a certain obsession with following proper form. If he had acted with intent, he could have been both cold and ruthless; yet, perhaps somewhere deep within his consciousness, there remained a single point of himself that could never truly commit to being a conspirator. At the very least, in his dealings with the Blaze Flag Army, Idris had failed magnificently.

“Whether it was the Blaze Flag Army or Fan Hyulick, trusting an outsider was a mistake regardless.”

Idris knew that such whispers were circulating through parts of Uraniborg. Maintaining an air of composure was the only remaining shred of his pride.

Idris was still unable to make a final decision on how to deploy and manoeuvre his more than forty thousand vessels.

“Surely neither Ariabert nor Jouslain would launch a direct assault on Uraniborg. To kill or wound ten million civilians would only leave them with the infamy of being mass murderers.”

If that were the case, deploying a massive fleet in front of Uraniborg, or having the vessels encircle the entirety of the stronghold, seemed like the simplest and most effective course of action. A gargantuan spherical formation with Uraniborg at its core.

This was one proposal put forward during the repeated strategy meetings.

However, this spherical formation possessed a fatal flaw. As long as Uraniborg served as the nucleus, the formation could not move freely. Furthermore, while it was not a purely military concept, depending on one’s perspective, it could be interpreted as Idris holding ten million civilians of Uraniborg hostage.

As Idris stared at the screen with a gaze that was more severe than sharp, the scenes from that day’s strategy meeting flashed through his mind.

“We can also employ the tactic of deliberately refraining from deploying the resident fleet, allowing ourselves to be surrounded by the enemy.”

“And the advantages of such a plan?”

“Sir, it is calculated that approximately sixty thousand vessels would be required to completely encircle Uraniborg from all six directions. The enemy possesses only twenty thousand. Should they attempt a siege, their net will be incredibly thin.”

“So?”

“Our forces possess forty thousand undamaged vessels. We could take advantage of the situation to strike out from various positions, inflict damage upon the enemy, and then withdraw. By repeating this process of steady attrition of their military strength, victory shall surely be ours.”

“And when would that be?”

“Err…”

“A year from now? Ten years?”

To possess mobile forces double that of the enemy, yet to remain entrenched behind thick walls and simply endure… For Idris, it was something he could not bear. He would surely end up being mocked as a coward.

“Whether it be forty thousand or fifty thousand ships, it is a waste of precious resources. Where is the need for these rebels to completely encircle Uraniborg? If we concentrated our forces at each harbour gate and struck them on the nose every time our fleet set out, would we not achieve an easy victory?”

There was no reply. Another officer suggested, looking quite apologetic:

“How about we deploy twenty thousand ships to face the enemy head-on, and in the meantime, send another twenty thousand out through the opposite gate?”

“So, that detachment would bypass Uraniborg, circle around to the enemy’s rear, and catch them in a pincer movement from both sides?”

“Yes sir.”

It was not a bad plan. However, it seemed unlikely that Ariabert had not already anticipated such a thing. Ironically, Idris’ greatest weakness lay in the fact that he possessed a force far superior to that of the enemy. If he were to lose under these circumstances, it was certain he would be judged by posterity as an incompetent commander.

From the very beginning, the participants of the strategy meeting had displeased Idris. No matter whose face he looked upon, he felt no boost in morale. Ranging from their thirties to their sixties, every one of them was older than Idris. Naturally, their combat experience also surpassed his. While Idris ought to have respected their experience and track records, he could not help but find them utterly unreliable.

With Idris’ permission, the twenty-four officers took their seats with mechanical precision. For a moment, an invisible hand of silence held the assembly in its grip.

If it had been Zarlisch, he would have been the first to speak with a voice like thunder. If it had been Ariabert, he would have called upon someone else to speak. Just as Idris could no longer conceal his irritation, an older general hesitantly opened his mouth:

“… With all due respect, Your Grace.”

“Spare me the formalities. State your opinion at once.”

“Understood. Then… if I may, I shall speak humbly.”

The reason he scanned his fellow generals was likely because he had hoped someone else would speak. However, no one met his expectations. Idris felt almost suffocated by his own frustration. To be forced to acknowledge the sheer military excellence of men like Ariabert and Zarlisch!

“The fate of our army rests solely upon the judgement of Your Grace Idris. We all await your orders for tactical action as soon as possible.”

In the end, it was all up to him. Idris ground his teeth in silence. This was the result of seeking the capabilities of a supreme commander only within the Tytania Clan.

“Regarding actions at the tactical level, I expect you all to act as experts. You are all veterans of many battles. I want you to devise the best course of action.”

With a wave of his hand, Idris dismissed the war council…

“Gather the remnants of the defeated forces.”

Issuing an utterly unpleasant command, Idris rose from his seat. He ordered that no one follow him and stepped into the lift. His destination was the Clanner’s sickroom.

IV

“I wish to have an audience with His Clanner Highness.”

Under Idris’ piercing gaze, the guard’s voice trembled.

“H-His Highness will see no one. I cannot allow you to pass.”

“I am Duke Idris.”

“Of course, I am aware of who you are.”

“And yet, you still refuse me entry?”

“It is not for me to decide. I merely obey His Highness’ orders.”

“A noble sentiment.”

Speaking derisively, Idris took a step forward. With a single sweep of his right arm, he knocked back the soldier who had reflexively braced himself.

From between the lines of soldiers, a man in a white coat appeared. It was an elderly doctor with grey hair. He addressed Idris with a trembling voice:

“Please, stop! You will incur the displeasure of His Clanner Highness!”

The doctor’s admonishment was coldly ignored.

“Your Clanner Highness! It is I, Idris!”

Idris’ voice contained a fierce intensity that went beyond mere dignity, causing the doctors and nurses to instinctively recoil.

“I have come because there is something I most earnestly desire your approval for. I pray that I may be granted the honour of your presence!”

“P-please stop, Your Grace.”

A middle-aged doctor, having summoned all his courage, attempted to lean towards Idris from the side. Without a moment’s delay, and without even addressing him properly, Idris’ hand flashed. A small blossom of blood bloomed in the air, and the doctor fell to the floor, clutching his face.

Without so much as a glance, Idris headed towards the door at the far end. The Clanner waited just behind that single door. At that moment, a large-bodied male nurse moved to block his path.

“Out of my way.”

With a roar of anger, Idris shoved the nurse aside. The nurse stumbled, yet he did not change his position. Behind him, the door opened, but the nurse’s body obscured the sight within. The moment the door closed, a blow from Idris’ fury struck the nurse’s cheek. A moment later, someone grasped his hand.

“Your Grace! Please be mindful of your position!”

It was Count Elman.

“If you commit any further misconduct, it will bring shame upon our name!”

Somewhat taken aback, Idris halted his movement and looked at Count Elman’s face. The middle-aged nobleman wore an expression of desperation. Idris had not thought this man possessed the courage to put himself in harm’s way.

“… Let go. I understand.”

His breathing had not yet fully subsided, and his voice was stiff, but Idris regained his composure rapidly. As Count Elman commanded with a gesture, the soldiers obeyed after a moment’s hesitation. Idris quickly straightened his dishevelled hair and collar, then spoke to the Count.

“Ask Your Clanner Highness to accept my apologies. I shall submit to whatever punishment is deemed appropriate.”

Turning his back on Count Elman, who was about to say something, Idris began to walk away, his chest held high with defiance.

If they could punish him, they should try. Though somewhat childish, a sense of natural rebellion welled up within him. If Idris were to be punished, who then would supervise Uraniborg as the Clanner’s deputy? Or would the Clanner himself crawl out from his sickbed just to watch the spectacle?

The soldiers armed with guns parted to the left and right as Idris walked. He began to descend the wide, ancient marble staircase. No one followed him. However, once he had reached the floor below,

“Lord Idris!”

A young woman’s voice halted his steps.

“Is it you again, Theodora?”

A bitter acidity rose within Idris. Though he harboured resentment and distrust towards this woman, for some reason, he found himself unable to reject her entirely. A trace of self-mockery coloured his voice.

“Have you gone to the trouble of waiting here merely to laugh at me?”

“No, I can only imagine your distress. Even if one says Tytania is invincible, such a claim rests upon having not only incomparable military strength but also exceptional leadership.”

“… What are you trying to say?”

“One has passed away, and the other has become the very enemy in question.”

“Zarlisch and Ariabert?”

Idris’ eyes grew hot with emotion.

“You failed to mention my name.”

He had spoken in a sharp, interrogating tone, but Theodora brushed it off lightly.

“I did not mention Duke Jouslain’s name either.”

“Hmph…”

“Combat command capability is a sufficient condition, but perhaps not a necessary one, is it not? Tytania is not a purely military organisation, after all. Though, if a massive alien army were to invade from the far reaches of space, there would likely be no leader more fitting than Duke Zarlisch.”

“Aliens? An enemy well-suited to him.”

Idris let out a derisive laugh, but his expression quickly tightened. He looked at Theodora with blatant distrust.

“Did you come here merely to tell such a ridiculous joke? I thought you had come to ask that you somehow rescue Radmoth, with whom you are so close.”

He glared at Theodora with layers of biting sarcasm, but all he received in return was a faint, mocking smile. Was someone as insignificant as Radmoth simply not worth her concern?

“Do please be careful, Duke Idris. It is customary for traitors to bring a small gift when surrendering to the enemy. I have come merely to offer you this piece of advice.”

“… Are you suggesting that there is someone within Uraniborg targeting me?”

“I possess no specific information to provide. I was merely reflecting upon historical precedents as a general rule. I would be honoured if you viewed this as a token of my sincerity toward Your Grace.”

As the beautiful woman bowed and turned to depart, Idris spat out,

“Damn vixen!”

It was a common insult, yet one that carried the weight of 6,000 years of history.

Furthermore, the fact that he kicked the nearby ottoman chair was the result of an anger directed more towards himself than towards Theodora. He wanted to remove her so he would no longer have to expend mental energy on her dangerous words and actions. A pity to do without her beauty, but there were plenty of others to take her place. Yet, while standing before the narrow precipice of decision, he found himself unable to take that final, decisive step, because she refused to let him grasp any clue as to how deeply she was embedded with Clanner Ajman or the extent of the influence she wielded.

Lost in thought, Idris continued along the gallery towards his own office. Since those without the Tytania name were forbidden from walking, it was the perfect space for one to wander while contemplating.

What if he pursued a plan to drive a wedge between Ariabert and Jouslain? Idris had long since considered such schemes. He had no need for anyone else to offer him such patronising opinions at this late stage. However, a year ago, when Zarlisch had still been in good health, he had not given the idea much serious thought. But now, their alliance seemed more resilient than steel, and severing it appeared to be a task of utmost difficulty.

If he were to attempt to divide them, to which one should he throw his bait? With the fires of war pressing in upon Uraniborg, Ariabert far surpassed Jouslain in terms of combat command and the capacity to lead troops. Synthesising various pieces of information, it seemed that Jouslain was trailing half a step behind Ariabert.

How would Jouslain act once he had Uraniborg in his grasp? Once the difficult military campaign ended, Ariabert would presumably no longer be of any use to him. The notion that Jouslain was waiting for that very moment was entirely convincing to Idris. Nevertheless, he could not shake the impression that something was amiss. How would the Clanner interpret the relationship between the two men…?

“Could it be…”

Idris froze at his own thought. Could it be that Clanner Ajman was orchestrating this conflict and driving Idris into a corner, all in order to install Ariabert and Jouslain as the next generation of Clanners?

If that were indeed the case, the reason he remained confined to his hospital room at this late stage, refusing to even grant Idris an audience or issue any instructions, became clear. It provided an explanation for the current situation.

Idris began to lean towards that thought, but he hesitated. While it certainly provided an explanation for the current situation, it raised another question. If they intended to remove Idris from the succession race, they could simply do so openly. Why did they not?

The moment he entered the office, Idris felt overwhelmed by confusion, and though he sat down to steady himself, he was simultaneously gripped by an even more extreme suspicion.

Had the Clanner already ceased to exist in this world? Was someone concealing that fact?

“Water!”

Idris bellowed to no one in particular, sending the surrounding figures scurrying about in a panic, until he was presented with a glass of sparkling mineral water. He glared at the bubbles rising through the ice, then seized the glass and drained it in a single gulp. When he tossed the glass into the air, someone caught it with desperate haste.

Yet, this suspicion would have brought about the same result as just a moment ago. Did the Clanner truly have a reason to go to such lengths and engineer a situation to corner Idris?

“Lord Idris is hereby stripped of all of his titles, authority, inherited assets, and he shall be exiled from Uraniborg.”

All it took was making such an announcement. While it would be an intolerable ordeal for Idris himself, for the whole of Tytania, it would surely result in far less damage.

Idris had suffered a crushing defeat in the Hashtbal System. Although he had not directly commanded the battle, his proxy, Fan Hyulick, had fled in the wake of the loss. There was more than enough reason for Idris to be disgraced and exiled. Yet, the Clanner responded only with silence, leaving Idris unable to even find a way to take responsibility for his own actions. As one of the last four dukes remaining, he had lost a peer among his advisers.

That was fine by him. Idris exhaled a distorted breath through twisted lips. If the Clanner were already no more, and since Ariabert and Jouslain bore the name of traitors, it stood to reason that Idris would naturally become the master of Uraniborg. His lifelong ambition would be realised.

He simply had not expected it to be fulfilled in such a manner and so half-heartedly.

However, the problem was not power but authority. One could call it prestige or perhaps popularity. The behaviour he had displayed moments ago in the Clanner’s sickroom had undoubtedly caused a great deal of discomfort and anxiety among the witnesses. They would have seen him as a man unable to control his own emotions.

Idris believed it was only natural to erupt, yet his position was such that he was not even permitted to act naturally in the presence of others.

“What a disgrace… I have made a complete spectacle of myself.”

Regret was useless. To dispel this distrust, he had to defeat Ariabert and Jouslain. Merely imagining the triumphant faces of those two sent a searing heat coursing through his veins.

He would never allow them to claim glory.

V

On this day, there was only one visitor who brought him joy. His youngest brother, Zelpha. Amidst a schedule so hectic that the media would have been fond of calling it a “day of upheaval”, Idris had made time to meet with Zelpha. Knowing that this boy alone harboured a sense of pure, unadulterated devotion towards his eldest brother, Idris moved to a different seat and commanded a servant to bring him some cocoa, allowing for about ten minutes of conversation.

“If only you were ten years older and an adult already.”

Idris’ voice was imbued with true sincerity.

“Someone like Radmoth… it would have been better if he had never been born.”

Had Idris been his father, such words would have never been uttered, but as the elder brother, he felt free to speak his mind.

His affection for Radmoth had originally not amounted to a single shred, but now it had fallen below zero. He had heard tales of Radmoth’s disgraceful behaviour from some of the defeated soldiers who had returned home broken. Idris had resolved that if he had the audacity to show his face, he would subject him to severe punishment.

“When I grow up, I will surely be of use to you, Brother. I will stand by your side no matter what.”

“Yes, you are the only one I trust. I am counting on you.”

Zelpha returned to his room looking disappointed, and Idris watched him go. Had it ended there, it would have been a day upon which he had regained his good humour, but…

“Duchess Theresa requests an audience with Your Grace.”

“I have no business with her. Send her away.”

Idris lacked the confidence that he could maintain his composure if he were to face Duchess Theresa right now. Even without that, he had only just exploded with passion in front of the Clanner’s infirmary.

If Clanner Ajman, Ariabert, and Jouslain were to vanish forever, he wouldn’t mind letting his passions run wild, but for now, self-restraint was essential. He had only just felt the sting of regret moments ago. However, as he lifted his head from his desk, Lady Theresa stood before his very eyes.

“What is the meaning of this? Am I not even allowed to be alone…?”

Idris’ voice trailed off into the air, and his eyes glared unpleasantly at the uninvited guest.

“I… I apologise, but…”

The security officer’s voice was thick with cold sweat. Duchess Theresa Tytania, who had intruded upon them, seemed like an entirely different person from the last time they had met. A strange confidence surged through her entire being; the flaccid softness of her heavy frame had vanished, replaced by a sense of power that seemed to fill every bold contour of her body.

“Enough, you may leave.”

She announced this with an air of absolute authority, as if addressing one of her own subordinates. After glancing at Idris’ expression, the security officer hurriedly vanished.

Idris let out a long, heavy breath.

“I release you from your confinement, and this is how you repay me? What is the meaning of this? I’m afraid I cannot spare more than five minutes.”

“Do not be so cold.”

The Duchess’ voice grew strangely sweet, and even her tone changed, leaving Idris aghast. He did not offer Lady Theresa the sofa as he did his younger brother, leaving the elder woman to remain standing. It was his way of signalling that she should leave at once, but Lady Theresa seemed entirely unconcerned.

“You must be terribly exhausted. I, too, find those brothers Ariabert and Jouslain to be quite disagreeable.”

“Brothers…?”

“Indeed.”

“Wait a minute, they are supposed to be cousins. Their mothers are sisters…”

It was such an unexpected remark that Idris, already mentally exhausted, found himself unintentionally swept up in the Duchess’ pace.

“Yes, their mothers are sisters, but their father is the same man.”

“Then they are half-brothers…” murmured Idris, dazed.

Lady Theresa watched his reaction with an air of satisfaction.

“H-How did it come to that? And how could you possibly know such a thing?”

“How do I know? Well, I shall leave that to your imagination. However, it is a fact that Ariabert and Jouslain are brothers of different mothers. When one belongs to a ducal house of Tytania, things become quite tiresome, with all his talk of lineage, the necessity of male heirs, and how a girl won’t do. You are well aware of this, are you not?”

“…”

“In your family, you were fortunate enough to have three boys, but in Ariabert and Jouslain’s line, things did not go so well. Ariabert’s mother, Wilhelmina, was as the commoners might put it a ‘piece of work’.”

Bullets of hatred and contempt were spat from Lady Theresa’s lips in the form of words.

“Upon realising that her own husband was barren, out of all people, she stole her elder sister’s husband.”

“In other words, Jouslain’s father was…”

“Indeed, and the two boys were born in succession. Almost at the same time—no, Ariabert was born perhaps two weeks earlier. When they were born, they looked so much alike that even the physician was flustered. As they grew, they both took after their mothers, so they ended up looking like cousins. But had they both resembled their father, things might have become quite troublesome.”

Lady Theresa laughed loudly. That voice, which seemed like a mass of pure malice, struck Idris’ eardrums and echoed through his ear canal, refusing to fade for some time.

Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before

I

For Viscount Balamy Tytania, time passed against his will. He was not treated as an equal to the two giants, Ariabert and Jouslain, nor was he entrusted with even a fraction of the fleet’s command and operations. Furthermore, following the news that Princess Lydia had gained great popularity by visiting the wounded and sick, whispers of him being “useless” seemed to echo from within his own body to the depths of his ears.

“If you were to observe Lord Ariabert’s use of troops from beside him, you would surely gain much.”

Jouslain had said this to him before the commencement of battle, and he had intended to thoroughly observe and analyse Ariabert’s deployment of forces at a later date. However, merely moving in and out of the bridge whilst attending to Princess Lydia made it difficult for him to grasp the true essence of such military manoeuvres.

“I can accept why he acted as he did in the past, but I cannot predict what he will do next.”

It was a conclusion that reached its natural end. Ariabert’s use of troops was consistent with the principles of warfare; therefore, the ultimate solution lay in mastering those very principles.

As things stood, even if they were to come to blows, they would never be able to defeat Ariabert. However, that rogue known as Fan Hyulick had twice forced Ariabert to taste bitter defeat. He should be vulnerable to unorthodox and cunning stratagems.

However, a cunning stratagem was not something that can be logically deduced. As the ancient saying goes, “A great army requires no stratagems.” When Tytania went into battle, they assembled vast forces, ensured complete supplies, gathered and analysed extensive intelligence, and struck precisely at the enemy’s weaknesses. That was Tytania’s way of war. They had never a drama-like commander who could “annihilate a superior force with a small one by using a clever trick.”

“Bal!”

Someone called out to him. Or rather, he only noticed after it called him several times. The voice belonged, of course, to Princess Lydia.

“Ah, Princess, please forgive me.”

Balamy bowed in a panic. Princess Lydia did not appear angry, but she looked up at his face from below with an expression of curiosity.

“Were you lost in thought?”

“Not particularly… I was just daydreaming for a moment.”

“If that’s the case, it’s fine, but you appeared a little tired. Are you alright?”

It was certainly true that the tension in his mind and body had not subsided over the last few days, but it was beneath his dignity to be pitied by a child. No matter how keen Princess Lydia’s eyes might be.

“Do not worry. It is you who must be tired, Princess.”

“I am staying quiet so as not to disturb the soldiers. I am not tired.”

“I see.”

With an uninspired reply, Balamy gazed out through the viewing port. Every single one of the countless glittering points of light in the space surrounding Uraniborg was military in nature; not a single civilian vessel was there.

The prohibition of arrivals and departures at the Uraniborg spaceport exerted some influence on the logistics and travel of human society. Although the central functions governing the entire system were lost, the outlying branches continued to operate autonomously. Trade between small, frontier planets proceeded almost without interruption, and there was no disruption to the daily lives of the people.

If anything, it was the economically significant planets, such as Ementhal and Kafir, that gave a sense of being in a state of war. Within these vital hubs of logistics and travel, Tytania’s financial, commercial, and economic development activities were naturally flourishing, and it stood to reason that the impact of Uraniborg’s influence was greater there as well.

The various planets were in an uproar, assessing the impact and revising their policies regarding how long the armed conflict within Tytania might persist. However, as the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain drew perilously close to Uraniborg with almost no damage sustained, the possibility of an unexpected, short-term decisive battle increased, leaving them breathless and questioning themselves.

“… What exactly is Tytania to us?”

Even if it was only one in every hundred people, hundreds of millions began to vaguely contemplate this very thought.

By the time they were born, Tytania already existed and dominated the universe. They grew up eating flakes produced by companies under the Tytania umbrella, attended schools established through Tytania’s donations, travelled to other planets on spacecraft belonging to Tytania, worked for Tytania-affiliated corporations to earn their wages, and eventually passed away in hospitals bearing the name of Tytania.

Question marks began to appear regarding its permanence, and people started to wonder what Tytania truly was. It was an incredibly subtle shift in the political climate. Yet, at times, such shifts act as the catalyst for historical upheaval. That very example lay before their eyes.

“By the way, Bal.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“When you are tired, sweets are more effective for the body than alcohol.”

Balamy gave Princess Lydia a formal, solemn bow.

“I shall accompany you. Let us head to the officers’ lounge.”

“Yes. I wonder what we’ll be having today.”

“If I recall correctly, they were supposed to serve raspberry tarts today…”

For the time being, the future of the universe was a matter for after tea.

The private quarters of Duke Ariabert Tytania were located immediately to the left of the Captain’s cabin.

The Austra possessed two rooms more luxurious than the captain’s cabin. The one to the right was the commander-in-chief’s office, which Jouslain was currently using, The one to the left was a VIP suite, which had been prepared as Ariabert’s quarters. In times of crisis, the Austra held the potential to become the flagship of the entire Tytania military.

“Do you have any instructions, Your Grace?”

At the sound of the young woman’s voice, Ariabert gave a short, wry smile from within his bed.

“Listening to your manner of speech, Edna, I feel as though I am sleeping next to a career soldier.”

“I… am a career soldier.”

“I have a memory of us exchanging this very same conversation about five years ago.”

Though the universe existed in eternal night, humanity created day and night within structures through the control of lighting. Outside the viewing port, the view was a black canvas upon which countless grains of silver sand had been scattered.

“What would we do if the forces of Uraniborg were to suddenly set out from the harbour right now?”

“There is no need for concern. We would launch a counterattack immediately. Your Grace Ariabert’s teachings have reached even the lowest-ranking soldiers.”

“That is because the field and junior officers have been performing so well.”

It had been a long time since Edna Fredericks had shared a bed with him. He had anticipated being politely refused, with the impending final battle being used as an excuse, but that did not happen. Faced with the unprecedented experience of attacking ‘Uraniborg’, spending the night alone was hard. Jouslain’s night, no doubt, would be spent with Francia.

“Edna.”

“Yes?”

“I have wanted to ask you this for some time… what are your thoughts on Lord Jouslain?”

“Lord Jouslain…?”

Edna chose her words with great care.

“My impression is that Lord Jouslain does not truly love Tytania.”

Ariabert silently adjusted the position of his pillow. Because the lights were dimmed, they could not see the fine details of each other’s expressions. He pulled Edna closer to him once more before asking.

“What is your evidence for that?”

“No evidence to speak of.”

“Without evidence, it is not criticism. It is merely slander.”

“I believe so too. That is why I have not spoken of it until now.”

“Did I ask for something unnecessary?”

“If my words were to create a rift between the two of you, I should, of course, be punished, and I would accept that gladly. However, though it may seem contradictory, I feel there is no room to doubt Lord Jouslain’s trust in Your Grace.”

In the dim light, Ariabert brushed back his light-coloured hair.

“There is no contradiction. After all, Tytania and I are not one and the same. Look at Idris. He loves Tytania, yet he hates Jouslain and me.”

“That much is obvious.”

Ariabert deliberately ignored Edna’s tone, which suggested that her meaning was somewhat different.

“Well, let us leave it at that. We have managed to find ourselves alone, and yet our conversation lacks all sentiment.”

As Ariabert waved a hand through the air, the sensor detected the movement, and the faint light of distant stars began to filter into the room.

II

Duke Idris Tytania had endured a restless, unpleasant night and awoke to an unpleasant morning, with a heavy feeling at the back of his head. Although it was an artificial day and night, the rhythms of human life were still influenced by the rotation of their ancient home planet.

Peering into the mirror of the luxurious bathroom, he noticed that his eyes were bloodshot, so he summoned a lady-in-waiting to administer eye drops. The lady-in-waiting’s hesitant attitude was equally unpleasant, and he dismissed her before entering the morning room. Even after taking his seat at the table, he realised that his stomach felt heavy in addition to the dull ache at the back of his head, and he rose from his seat after drinking only two cups of coffee. He knew he could not approach the strategy meeting without first breaking this chain of discomfort.

The unilateral armed invasion of the Kingdom of Elbing, Princess Lydia’s homeland. Had it faltered to the left, it would have served as a violent warning not only to the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance but also to any factions seeking to side with them. Had it faltered to the right, it would have drawn out the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance entrenched in Bargash and dragged the conflict into a war of attrition, so he could then engage them in a decisive battle with forces twice their size.

No matter which way things went, it was supposed to favour Idris. In fact, it had gone well, up until that point.

However, the reaction from the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance was far too swift. The strategy that he himself had set in motion backfired in an instant. The Fan Hyulick faction, which he had intended to overwork and then discard, immediately revealed their true nature as brigands and vanished into some nebula in deep space, leaving Idris unable to even issue orders for their pursuit.

Despite there being plenty of capable commanders available, the loss of Ariabert and Zarlisch had exposed his forces as nothing more than a group waiting for instructions from above.

“Fine. If that is how it is, then I shall deploy all forty thousand vessels.”

Idris made his decision.

On second thought, there was no other choice. Even if he dispatched five thousand or ten thousand ships in succession, they would merely be defeated one by one before Ariabert’s twenty thousand. Furthermore, if the spaceport were damaged, the vessels in reserve would be trapped within the port, unable to depart, rendering them utterly useless.

Having made this resolution, Idris attended the war council, but of the twenty-four seats, neither Zarlisch fierce like a mighty tiger, nor Ariabert swift as a silver wolf, were present. There sat only a pack of grey hounds, staring downcastly at the floor. Rather than a gathering of commanders, they appeared to be nothing more than bureaucrats belonging to the military division of the vast Tytania organisation.

“Use one or two military satellites to attack and distract the enemy. In the meantime, launch all vessels from every spaceport at once. Do not give Ariabert or Jouslain a moment to react.”

There was no rebuttal to the peremptory command. However, the lacklustre faces seemed to read “easier said than done”, which only served to heighten Idris’ growing frustration.

“Then, begin immediately.”

“Your Grace?”

“What is it?”

“Who will be in command of the entire fleet?”

Idris tried to recall the name of the speaker, but he could not. The man was an older general, though Idris could at least vaguely remember his face.

“Besides me, is there someone volunteering for the position?”

He infused his voice with as much cold confidence as he could muster. The elderly general bowed in a gesture of deference.

“Heaven forbid. It was precisely because I wished to hear those very words that I had the presumption to ask.”

“Hmph.”

“In that regard, there is one thing I wish to ask. Where will Your Ducal Grace take supreme command?”

“Where…?”

As Idris furrowed his brow, another officer spoke up, as if summoning his courage:

“Should Your Grace depart from Uraniborg to command the fleet, the battleship Black Prince has already been prepared to serve as your flagship. How would you wish to proceed?”

The face of this middle-aged officer was familiar, yet he could not recall the man’s name. Idris was forced to realise that it was himself, more than any of the other commanders, who had left the actual combat entirely to Ariabert and Zarlisch. He had operated under the belief that the priority was to secure control over the heart of Tytania’s power and that he could learn later on, as needed, the names and faces of the combat specialists. Now, that knowledge was precisely what he required, yet to ask for their names at this critical moment would only invite the distrust of the entire assembly. He had truly become a victim of his own making.

Standing upon the heights of the reviewing stand, Duke Idris Tytania eventually watched as the lines of the great army’s fleet departed one after another.

He never allowed his true feelings to be seen by others. With his chest held high in an air of arrogance, he performed the Tytania-style salute, pressing his right fist into the hollow of his left shoulder as he gazed out over the endless river of metal—the battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and gunboats that seemed to stretch on forever. The storm swirling within him never manifested externally. To the soldiers looking up from the observation ports and saluting his heroic figure, he even offered a nod of encouragement.

“I had hoped for the day when I would stand here alone. But I never imagined it would come to this.”

Only the Clanner was permitted to stand in this place alone. It was not something allowed for any other. Even Idris himself, along with Ariabert, Jouslain, and even the late Zarlisch, had only been permitted to stand one step behind the Clanner. Even so, such a position was regarded as a supreme honour, envied by all.

Idris fulfilled his duties as Acting Clanner to perfection. For two long hours, he stood upon the reviewing stand like a statue, without the slightest tremor.

What of those watching him depart? The Tytania soldiers gathered before the screens and viewing windows were certainly impressed by the sight of Idris. They spoke amongst themselves, their voices thick with excitement.

“Seeing him like that, he truly is a distinguished figure.”

“It isn’t just Duke Idris. All the Four Dukes… And above all, His Clanner Highness too…”

“Come to think of it, His Clanner Highness…”

“Watch your tongue! Don’t say things you shouldn’t!”

As an NCO bellowed, a veteran soldier snapped back, breaking the momentary silence.

“We don’t even know if he’ll make it back alive. Surely you can overlook a word or two!?”

Such prickly exchanges amongst the soldiers were something no one could have imagined just a year ago. As they watched the flagships of Ariabert and Zarlisch on their monitors, whether out of excitement or tension, there was no room for even a single thought of defeat to take root in their minds, provided they maintained moderation and order.

There was no way to know the exact words of every soldier, but Idris himself felt the fraying of their morale most acutely.

“You looked truly magnificent. The soldiers revered you as the god Mars.”

As he descended from the reviewing stand, a beautiful yet ethereal voice greeted Idris. Without even needing to check, he knew the owner of that voice was Countess Theodora Tytania.

“What’s with that appearance of yours?”

Idris felt a pang of bitterness. Theodora’s clothing was not some misplaced nightdress. Rather, it was far too appropriate for the setting. It was the military uniform worn by high-ranking Tytania officers at the rank of captain.

“But you aren’t planning on joining the sortie yourself, are you?”

“After I depart, who will guarantee that you won’t seize Uraniborg from the inside?”

The momentary silence was filled with a soundless thunder, but it was broken by a bright, laughing voice.

“Oh, how ridiculous. How can a man destined to become Clanner of Tytania fear a mere woman?”

“Who said anything about fear? I was merely being sarcastic. More importantly, that uniform—where and how did you get it?”

“No need for concern. I obtained it quite legally.”

“Of course you did. Fine, whatever, but I won’t permit you to follow me. You are not allowed in the combat command room. Go over there and hold your fashion show by yourself.”

As Idris walked away, leaving Theodora behind, he found himself filled with a strange sense of bewilderment. Why did he not simply eliminate this woman, who was so dangerous and so utterly untrustworthy?

Watching the fleet depart in continuous succession from Uraniborg, Jouslain spoke to Ariabert:

“It seems Idris is not leaving Uraniborg.”

“That guy’s quite the slow mover.”

“He’s afraid.”

“Afraid of battle? At this late stage…?”

“No. Afraid of betrayal.”

The two dukes looked at one another.

III

“Is there anyone in Uraniborg right now with the courage and planning required to commit such a betrayal?”

“A valid question, but the sudden outburst of a small player can sometimes produce unexpected results. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“Someone may have received a secret order from His Clanner Highness…”

Just as Jouslain was about to speak, a report arrived. It stated that vessels had departed from every port, and their total number had already exceeded twenty thousand.

“Damn that Idris… it seems he has finally found some motivation.”

“The enemy is twice our size. It should be a rewarding challenge, Lord Ariabert.”

“Now hold on. You expect me to do all the work while you just stand there and watch, Lord Jouslain?”

“If there was something for me to do, I would of course be happy to assist, but I have no desire to get in your way.”

“Hmm, you certainly have an answer for everything.”

Ariabert gave a sarcastic laugh, but Jouslain accepted it with a serious expression.

“I shall refrain from interfering unless you request it. However, in exchange, would you not allow Viscount Balamy to remain by your side?”

“Hoh? Field training?”

“Might I ask that of you?”

“As long as the man himself is willing, I have no objection… Nevertheless, I do wonder in what state His Clanner Highness is.”

“Any number of states are possible. However, since we have extremely little information, we cannot make any predictions. We cannot act based on mere speculation.”

“So, it is the same as before, then.”

“Precisely. I shall have Idris take full responsibility.”

The two men gazed at the screen. The stream of points of light being emitted from Uraniborg showed no sign of ceasing.

“For the first time in my life, I feel a small amount of pity for Idris.”

“I understand how you feel, Lord Ariabert. But consider how many individuals superior to Idris Tytania have been sacrificed until now… and how many more will be, as long as Tytania exists.”

Ariabert’s gaze pierced sharply through Jouslain’s profile. Jouslain remained silent. Ariabert said nothing to him either. After parting ways with him, he summoned Balamy.

“I have heard the news from Lord Jouslain. There is no formal seat set for you, but please, feel free to make yourself at home.”

“I am most grateful.”

Balamy bowed stiffly and cast his gaze towards the empty seat to Ariabert’s rear left, but he did not sit down. Instead, he stood behind the vacant chair, staring intently. He watched Ariabert’s every move, the main screen, and the three-dimensional simulator. He felt as though he needed half a dozen pairs of eyes. After about five minutes, Ariabert looked back over his shoulder with an expression that fell just short of a wry smile.

“I imagine you want to ask why we are retreating. If we approach a single gate too closely, we lose sight of the enemy’s full extent. It would be disastrous to be flanked by another fleet emerging from a different gate while we are engaged in close combat with the first.”

“I see. I understand.”

As he replied, Balamy thought to himself, “I knew that much,” though it was perhaps merely a matter of courtesy.

Even if the enemy committed their full military strength, did Ariabert have the confidence to defeat them? Balamy wanted to confirm that point, but he could not tell from the man’s attitude.

The reconnaissance officer called out.

“Reporting, Your Grace.”

“Speak.”

“At present, there are no unidentified spacecraft within sixty light-seconds of our rear. No abnormalities in the deployment of jump-interference obstacles.”

“Very well. Continue rear reconnaissance, but reduce by half the number of personnel engaged. The officer in charge shall reorganise the designated sectors as appropriate.”

Captain Edna Fredericks, who was seated to Ariabert’s left, spoke:

“I wish for this vessel to retreat by approximately five thousand kilometres. May I have your permission?”

“I leave it up to you, captain.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

No emotion was present in the words. Before anyone else could notice, their gazes simply met.

Balamy gazed intently at the screen, his thoughts racing.

If Uraniborg were to fall despite possessing Clanner Ajman and commanding the largest fleet in the universe, Idris would leave behind an eternal stain upon his name as the most incompetent commander in history. Balamy could not imagine Idris ever living through such disgrace.

Balamy moved his gaze, searching for Jouslain. The other duke sat in a seat at the rear right of the bridge, his arms crossed in silent contemplation. Beside him stood Francia. Her hand rested on the back of Jouslain’s chair. Then, a small face peeked out from beside her, and a figure gave a light wave toward Balamy. It was Princess Lydia. Since Francia had to remain by Jouslain’s side while simultaneously attending to the Princess, it was only natural that they were all on the bridge; in fact, upon reflection, it was actually safer that way.

Ariabert’s voice rang out:

“Our tactics will depend upon the formation the enemy adopts. Ensure thorough monitoring and analysis, and report your predictions.”

“Is there no need to take the initiative?” wondered Balamy, but he soon realised the truth. If they destroyed the first wave of ships to depart, the remaining enemy forces might be too afraid to emerge, which would make a swift conclusion difficult.

“Does he intend to wipe out the enemy’s entire force all at once when they’ve all emerged? And he’s prepared many responses to the enemy’s tactics?…”

As Balamy contemplated these various possibilities, another report arrived. It came from Ariabert’s original flagship, the Golden Sheep. The face of Captain Chen Ruofan appeared on one of the communication screens.

“Good work, Captain.”

“You honour me. From our current position, the enemy’s movements are within our expectations.”

After a brief exchange of a few words, the communication was cut, and Ariabert looked back at the young viscount.

“Lord Balamy, is there something you wish to say?”

“No, well, nothing in particular.”

“Hmm, perhaps my question was a bit too vague. If it were you, how would you manoeuvre my army?”

Was he being tested? Balamy could not suppress his tension. He looked once more at the screen, then at the three-dimensional simulator. He did not want Ariabert to laugh at him, yet if he were to offer an incorrect answer with misplaced confidence, it would be as if he were reopening his own wound.

“I have not yet gathered enough information to reach a decision.”

Ariabert did not laugh.

“As long as you’re sincere, it’s fine.”

“It is just that… I have never seen such a dense formation before. It’s almost like a box…”

“Correct. Even I have never seen a formation that thick. You are looking at the right things, Viscount.”

Balamy felt relieved. He thought it was for the best that he had answered honestly. In any case, there was no way he could propose a tactic superior to Ariabert’s at this moment. Feeling his tension ease slightly, he plucked up the courage to ask Ariabert.

“What is the meaning of that formation?”

“He intends to force us into a central breakthrough.”

Answering Balamy’s question, Ariabert turned his gaze back to the screen.

“Do you intend to perform this central breakthrough?”

Without looking back at Balamy, Ariabert pointed to the screen.

“Even if we achieve a central breakthrough, there is no space behind them for us to deploy. We would merely be caught in a pincer movement between Uraniborg and the enemy fleet.”

“Yes…”

“Which is likely what the enemy expects.”

There was an irrepressible excitement in Ariabert’s voice, that of a commander. Balamy wanted to read what lay within his heart, but it proved difficult.

“But, as things stand, wouldn’t it be difficult to attack the core?”

“That is true. However, Lord Balamy, what exactly are you referring to as the core?”

Balamy was bewildered.

“If we are speaking of the fleet, wouldn’t it be the flagship? The commander-in-chief would be aboard…”

“In the case of a long-distance expedition, supply ships are added to that.”

“But from what I have heard, the Commander-in-Chief has not even deployed.”

“Yes, precisely. However, as was revealed just now, the supreme commander, Idris, is conducting operations from within Uraniborg. If that is the case, whoever is aboard the flagship must be one of his subordinate generals, but in any event, such a heavy formation is unnecessary. A formation like that is designed to further encircle one’s own troops with even more allies, which, as a result, leaves half of the total force acting as mere outriders.”

For a moment, Balamy forgot his own position. It was the first time he had ever heard Ariabert explain things with such detail and initiative. Had he asked for himself, he would have never been told this much.

It was the result of Jouslain speaking up for him. There was no need to even think; the fact was clear. Should he be grateful? If so, how was he to show his appreciation?

Until the untimely death of his father, Marquis Estrade Tytania, last year, Ariabert and Jouslain had been plain, imaginary enemies to Balamy. He had intended to support his father, overthrow Clanner Ajman and the four dukes, and seize hegemony over Tytania. He had displayed his ambition and vigour so nakedly that even Princess Lydia, upon their first meeting, had remarked that he had “the kind of eyes that are plotting treason”.

At present, he walked in silence, watching the backs of Ariabert and Jouslain. It felt as though the two dukes were advancing two steps for every single step Balamy took.

“How foolish I was.”

He could not help but mock himself.

If even the backs of the two dukes were drifting so far out of reach, it would be eternally impossible to even catch the shadow of Clanner Ajman. He had been insolent, but he believed that, aside from a lack of experience, he had been able to match his late father, Marquis Estrade. Therefore, it was only natural that the Clanner throne had fallen into the hands of Ajman, his father’s half-brother. Their abilities were simply not on the same level; there was nothing to be done.

Had Balamy failed to properly account for his position immediately after his father’s death, he undoubtedly would have been purged. He had been spared only because Jouslain had persuaded the Clanner.

From that point on, Balamy was regarded by those around him as Jouslain’s partisan, and he acted as such in practice. However, Balamy did not know whether this would ultimately decide his fate. Regardless of whether he was on equal footing with Princess Lydia, he was not even twenty years old yet.

IV

Separated from the vortex of war by a dark abyss of some three hundred thousand kilometres, about one hundred unarmed ships drifted. They were the hospital ship fleets of both armies.

The hospital ships generally possessed white hulls, with a large red cross painted on both the port and starboard sides. There were various theories regarding the origin of this “×” symbol. The most prominent suggested that it had originally been a “+” sign, which had rotated forty-five degrees over many years. However, as for the reason it had rotated forty-five degrees, there was not even a strong hypothesis, let alone an established theory.

In any event, the hospital ships operated at full capacity, regardless of whether they belonged to friend or foe. Both sides were funded by Tytania, and as a result, it was impossible not to run into acquaintances among the crew, doctors, nurses, and medics at every level.

“We are running low on analgesics. Could you spare a bit?”

“Alright. It is a poor trade, but I will give you enough skin cell culture medium for about five hundred people. No matter how much we have, we can never have enough.”

Such negotiations took place between doctors who were acquaintances, transcending enemy and ally lines. It was not just the doctors; even between adjacent beds, amidst the lingering scent of blood and medicine, the wounded exchanged words with one another.

“What, it’s you? Which ship were you on?”

“The heavy cruiser Pythagoras.”

“Ha! Amazing. Weren’t you the one my ship hit with four shots?”

“So, you were on the Zarafshon! Look at what you did to my left arm…”

“Hey, hey, no grudges, alright? I’m covered in bandages myself.”

A mixture of relief and anxiety rose from the wounded soldiers as they raised their voices. One shout, “Shut up! Silence!” rang out particularly loud.

“I wonder what will happen with the prisoner exchange.”

“I never imagined things would end up like this.”

Never imagined things would end up like this. That was the thought shared by the fleet as it moved restlessly around the group of hospital ships. These were media vessels, working desperately to report on and document this historic scene.

“Who could have ever imagined such a sight? Uraniborg, the very centre of the heavens, is being enveloped by the flames of war. Clouds of light in white, red, blue, and gold are swirling, scattering, congregating, expanding, contracting, and pulsating…”

“Stop the idle chatter and move closer to the combat zone!”

“We can’t go any further, Cap!”

“At least zero-point-five light-seconds—no, even half that is fine. Get closer and show them! The public demands authentic footage! Look, the sector to the front-left is clear.”

“That’s the direct route from the battlefield to the hospital fleet. If we interfere with the hospital ships’ operations, we’ll be attacked by both sides!”

“Navigating through that properly is what makes you a professional!”

“Don’t be unreasonable!”

“Do you not wish to leave your name in the annals of journalism!?”

“I want to leave my name and my life alone!”

An unidentified vessel had slipped among the media-affiliated ships.

It moved to the front and sat alongside the others, acting as if it were there to film and report on the battle, but this ship, disguised with decorative antennas, was the Honest Old Man Junior.

“Since we went through the trouble of getting identification marks for both friend and foe from Uraniborg, we might as well make the most of it.”

The man speaking in the crew’s mess was Lee Shanchen, known by his comrades as “Doctor Lee”. He was a man possessed by dangerous ideologies, willing to gladly sacrifice his own life—and the lives of others—if it meant writing a thesis on the “Factors leading to the Fall of Tytania”.

“We’re finished if we’re discovered.”

“Quite likely, Mahdi. But it’s not as if we’re doing anything morally shameful.”

“If you are so intent on pursuing moral righteousness, then I believe those looted identification tags should be returned to Tytania.”

“True enough, but how? I suppose we could send them back anonymously, but even Tytania has far greater concerns at the moment.”

Fan Hyulick responded in place of Doctor Lee.

“We’re pirates. What belongs to others belongs to us.”

Alan Mahdi intoned, almost as if singing. He possessed absolutely no interest in the academic value of what were purported to be historical records, but he possessed more than enough interest in their monetary value.

At present, Mahdi’s greatest concern was Radmoth, the Tytanian scion, who was being held captive in a toilet. The youth was so unlovely that one felt compelled to retort, ‘What scion?’, but that was exactly why Mahdi wanted to sell him for as high a price as possible. Five hundred thousand—no, perhaps as much as one million dakar. Consequently, he hoped for the side that would offer a higher price to emerge victorious.

“Sometimes, unfounded intuition can lead to more accurate predictions than clear thinking and rational reasoning.”

Saying this, Doctor Lee looked towards Fan Hyulick. Hyulick found this particular gaze difficult to endure. He could never tell what was being said to him or what he might be asked to do. In truth, since becoming an acquaintance of Doctor Lee, he had no memory of experiencing anything particularly good, yet he found himself unable to distance himself from the man.

“And what exactly is this rational reasoning you speak of?”

“That’s right. If I were to put it in terms even little Mahdi could understand, it means you should consider who stands to gain the most.”

When Miranda offered her opinion, Doctor Lee shook his head slightly.

“No, it is not limited to Mahdi. It is simply the most logical definition. This time, Tytania has split and even gone so far as to engage in hostilities. It is a situation no one could have predicted a year ago. But who stands to benefit from it?”

“That is obvious. The Anti-Tytania Faction.”

“That is far too vague. Besides, Tytania itself is fractured. There is no such thing as a purely anti-Tytania or pro-Tytania side anymore.”

“You should listen a little more closely, Miranda. Tytania is divided and warring. Regardless of which side wins, Tytania as a whole will naturally be weakened.”

“Hmm, I see. It seems even little Mahdi is actually making sense for once.”

“When profit and loss are involved, the mind begins to work.”

“You’re quite the handful, I say so myself. Besides, if your mind is so sharp, why are you even here right now?”

Before Mahdi could respond, another voice spoke.

“If one considers everything to be coincidence, it is easy to fall into fatalism. If one considers everything to be inevitable, one falls into the trap of conspiracy theories. Now, I wonder which side of the line we stand upon.”

Doctor Lee was voicing his thoughts aloud.

“It is certain that the catalyst was not so much Hyulick’s victory as it was Duke Ariabert’s defeat. This was the beginning. The very foundations of Tytania, which had remained unshakeable until then, began to tremble…”

Doctor Lee crossed his arms.

“Something has awakened. In truth, no power or regime can endure forever. Today’s victor is destined to be the defeated one a hundred years from now. It is precisely because the succession of hegemony repeats itself that human civilisation has endured to this day. Yet, behind the victor, the seeds of ruin always lie hidden in the shadows, awaiting their moment to awaken…”

“Come on, Doctor, don’t be so dramatic. You’re making me feel like I’m listening to a ghost story.”

“A ghost story, huh?… Perhaps it is. Tytania is a demon. It was true before Tytania, and it will be true after. For a sane person, the best course of action is to stay well away.”

“Just so we’re clear, I’ve never once had any desire to get involved with Tytania,” added Fan Hyulick, his tone thick with dissatisfaction. “If they ever go and do something incomprehensible, we can just blame it on madness.”

“Madness, is it?… Well, even that is difficult to judge. One who indiscriminately fires heat rays and kills dozens of innocent citizens, and one who systematically selects and massacres a specific ethnic group—which of them is truly possessed by madness?”

“Both.”

Having cut the matter down so decisively, Fan Hyulick turned his gaze toward the viewing port. Beyond the abyss, a cloud of light expanded and contracted in all directions. Flashes of red and blue tore through the luminous clouds in rapid succession. A leader who commanded with frenzy or a leader who commanded with calm composure—which of them was more possessed by madness? He had no memory of having thrown himself into battle out of any personal preference, but he knew for certain that he had accepted it.

As Fan Hyulick sighed and ran his hands through his carrot-coloured hair, Princess Miranda also shrugged her shoulders.

“The Idris faction might win. If that were to happen, we’d be relentlessly pursued for the rest of our lives.”

“Idris might win?”

When Doctor Lee posed the question, Mahdi answered in his stead.

“I wonder. Even taking the simplest view, it’s two against one, and when it comes to popularity, the gap is even wider than that.”

It was an entirely accurate assessment of the matter regarding popularity.

V

As he watched the opera of light and shadow unfolding upon the screen, Doctor Lee lectured:

“You know what a snowman is, don’t you? As long as you don’t move it, it stays the same size. However, if you roll it along, snow sticks to it, and it gradually grows larger.”

“A snowman, eh…”

Fan Hyulick had never seen anything called a snowman in all his life.

“While Idris stands idly by, Ariabert and Jouslain continue to increase their number of allies. Considering that, a short-term battle might actually work to Idris’ advantage. For the time being he can enter the fray with double the manpower.”

“But I wonder if things will go quite so smoothly. I feel as though there might be a trap somewhere.”

“Well, even I do not yet know which way it will go.”

“Now, now.”

“In any event, it is not my place to take responsibility, so I shall simply observe for a while. Even if I wished to intervene, I would be unable to do so.”

Doctor Lee sipped his coffee with complete composure, but Hyulick could not help but feel a slight sense of unease. He felt that Doctor Lee must also bear at least some responsibility.

In later generations, a search through biographical dictionaries would reveal a great variety of titles attributed to Fan Hyulick. He was variously listed as a “soldier during the era of the eighth Tytanian Clanner Ajman”, a “leader of the anti-Tytania faction”, and a “guerilla tactician” among many others. However, regarding his own state of mind at the time, he likely would have wished to claim he was merely an “unfortunate victim of the Tytanian Era”.

Even while Doctor Lee’s seminar was being held at the Academy of Pirates, the fighting around Uraniborg continued. In fact, it appeared to be growing even more intense.

“As could be expected, the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain hold the advantage.”

Even someone who wasn’t Doctor Lee could see this. Since the initial ratio of forces was two to one, if Idris held the advantage, the numbers of the Ariabert-Jouslain allied forces would dwindle, and they would soon be unable to maintain the front. Even using very basic arithmetic, if both armies lost an equal number of troops, then by the time the Ariabert-Jouslain army was annihilated, Idris would still have twenty thousand ships remaining. The fact that this was not the case meant that Idris was in a rather disadvantageous position.

It was then that Pagès entered. Soup was dripping from his head, and though he was usually a cheerful man, he was unusually utterly sullen. He had gone to deliver a meal to Radmoth, who was confined in the toilets, but apparently had the plate thrown at him.

“It seems His Grace the Baron does not find the food of the lowborn commoners to his taste. He barely touched the soup.”

“There is no need to feed an omelette to a fellow like that. Plenty of boiled eggs will do.”

“Do not insult boiled eggs!”

“What was that, Mahdi? Do you have a fondness for boiled eggs?”

“Not really. It’s just that I am a man who upholds fairness.”

“Fairness, is it? Very well then. You had better keep quiet for a while. I slipped enough sleeping pills in his wine to knock out three people. He should be snoring loudly by now.”

The slender figure of Pagès, who had been standing at the entrance of the dining hall, was suddenly shoved aside. Radmoth, his expression ferocious, held something gleaming against Seraphine Coopers’ throat. It was a raygun.

“Don’t move, you vermin!” roared Radmoth.

Fan Hyulick glared at Miranda.

“Hey, wasn’t that guy supposed to be snoring?”

“I should have put the dose for five people.”

“So, the hero surges from the toilets, huh?”

After delivering a dull joke in a dull tone, Doctor Lee wiped his mouth with a napkin. A bolt of light streaked through the air, five centimetres above his head, striking the dining hall wall and sending up plumes of smoke.

Doctor Lee shrugged.

“I shall listen if you have a request. And I will accept it provided it falls within the bounds of reason.”

Radmoth replied without hesitation:

“Continue your advance all the way to Uraniborg.”

Doctor Lee raised both hands slightly and stood up cautiously.

“That isn’t simply beyond the bounds of reason but beyond those of sanity. Do you truly think we can pierce through such a battlefield and reach Uraniborg? We would be blown to smithereens by both armies.”

“Do you think you can deceive me, you vermin? This ship was originally issued identification tags by Tytania to distinguish friend from foe. That is precisely why you can move around so brazenly.”

Doctor Lee, Fan Hyulick, and Miranda exchanged glances. To be honest, none of them had expected Radmoth to remember anything about the identification tags. They had simply regarded him as just another type of boorish, high-born brat.

“Complacency is a dangerous thing, Doctor.”

“I shall be more careful from now on.”

“If you understand, then move it! Get us to Uraniborg, quickly!” shouted Radmoth, his voice ringing with triumph.

The crew members looked at one another, but with no other choice, they returned to their respective stations and began to set the ship in motion.

That was the extent of Radmoth’s brief victory.

In order to keep an eye on everyone, Radmoth had been leaning against the rear wall of the bridge; however, his eyes suddenly grew glazed and vacant, and he began to slide down the wall, eventually collapsing onto the floor.

When Seraphine Coopers cautiously approached and leaned in to look at his face, a loud snore and a breath reeking of alcohol wafted up at her. It seemed the medicine had finally begun to take effect. He was a young lord with extraordinary stamina.

“What shall we do, Doctor? Shall we leave him to soak in the toilet’s bio-purifier this time?”

“Don’t. Having a crisis emerge from the toilet once is enough for a lifetime.”

“Well then, shall we just let him die?”

Pagès toyed with the raygun with both hands.

“It doesn’t leave a good aftertaste. But even if we keep him as a hostage, he’ll probably be abandoned by his side, and keeping him here would only increase our food expenses. Personally, I think throwing him out is the best option.”

A consensus was reached. Baron Radmoth Tytania was placed into an escape pod and prepared to be ejected into space.

With his mouth and both arms bound, Radmoth had been crammed into a tight capsule; it could hardly be said that he was being treated as an honoured guest. Nevertheless, the fact that the distress signal had been left transmitting continuously might have been a sign of the pirates’ humanity. Maybe.

The crew of the Honest Old Man Junior offered their heartfelt farewells to the departing capsule. Even for such scoundrels, a parting this joyous was a first. Even pirates, it seemed, possessed a sense of sincerity.

While his unworthy brother played in a paradise within the capsule, his elder brother, Idris, was trapped in an endless nightmare. Unlike the pirates who had captured his brother, he did not even register his own hunger, devoting his entire soul to judging the battle situation and issuing orders. The fatigue accumulating unconsciously only continued to grow.

“Every last one of them can rot in hell. Useless lot!” cursed Idris, though his voice was beginning to rasp.

The incompetence of his allies, who struggled even while being outnumbered two to one, incensed Idris, but he could not ignore his own mistakes either. By allowing Ariabert and the others to launch an assault directly onto the front of Uraniborg, he had, both strategically and politically, left everyone with the impression that they were “driven to the wall”.

There had been an alternative plan of leaving ten thousand ships to guard Uraniborg and withdrawing thirty thousand to launch a preemptive strike on planet Bargash. Had he done so, at the very least, the fact that he had “struck first” would have remained. In reality, however, Idris had allowed the impression to spread, both domestically and abroad, that he had simply been left at the mercy of Ariabert and Jouslain. Furthermore, what was increasing his exhaustion even further was the growing dissatisfaction with Clanner Ajman, as profound doubts began to take hold of him.

Was Clanner Ajman even sane?

It was the first time in Idris’ life that he had harboured such a doubt. In this regard, he was no different from Jouslain.

In Jouslain’s case, it was a casual remark from Princess Lydia that had brought about his inspiration. As for Idris, he had arrived at that conclusion after dispelling one suspicion after the other. To be fair, one might say that Idris, wallowing in his solitude, had been forced to endure greater mental exhaustion. He had no advisor to consult, either.

In short, Idris’ mind and body were approaching their limits. Even so, the will and effort he exerted to continue commanding the battle would have been worthy of praise.

“I cannot say for certain, but…”

Had something happened? Something that might have suggested Ajman’s “madness”?

It had never occurred to Idris. Although he had never once liked Ajman, he had always felt a sense of awe and respect toward him. As a member of Tytania, he had considered this only natural, and he had stridden to earn his favour while being careful not to incur his displeasure. He had almost never felt doubt or resentment regarding the way Ajman’s words and actions governed everything.

But had that been the right thing to do?

Chapter 7 – The “Celestial City”

I

A total of sixty thousand vessels from both sides were deployed in orbit around the planet Vardana, engaged in an offensive and defensive struggle over Uraniborg.

It was a dance of death set against a backdrop of eternal night.

The grand spectacle that the anti-Tytania faction had dreamed of, and that Tytania supporters could never have imagined, had manifested around the planet Vardana. Beams of light intersected in a dizzying display. Destroyers were blown into fragments. Cruisers drifted aimlessly like drunkards, their propulsion systems destroyed. Battleships, even while engulfed in flames, continued to spew beams from their turrets.

Vast amounts of human blood and energy were being wasted, swallowed up into the everlasting darkness.

The horrific spectacle was broadcast live to all of human society via the media, accompanied by neither the scent of blood nor the sound of screams; tens of billions of people watched on, their palms sweating, despite the slight time delays. Some were mesmerised, calling it “art from hell,” while others cried out, “Someone stop this futile slaughter!”, yet those not directly involved could do nothing but lament their own helplessness.

By the standards of Space International Law, this battle of unparalleled scale was not considered an “act of war”. It was not a case of independent nations exercising their right to combat following a formal declaration. It was merely a series of private wars between mercenary groups belonging to massive corporations.

However, the reality of the situation far surpassed both law and common sense.

Quite prosaically referred to as the “Uraniborg Incident”, this war was the largest-scale slaughter of the Tytania Age. It began without a formal declaration of war, intensified all at once, and ended in a manner that no one, except for a single individual, could have ever imagined.

While Idris did not move from the combat command centre of Uraniborg, Ariabert boarded the battleship Austra with Jouslain in tow and raced across the battlefield. The Golden Sheep, which was supposed to be the flagship, also appeared at various points across the battlefield as a single battleship, but it functioned effectively as a decoy, causing great distress to the forces of Uraniborg.

Like a swarm of mosquitoes descending upon an elephant, small double fighters danced around the colossal space battleship, mocking the heavy, sluggish movements of its main cannons. In response, small-calibre autocannons spat out streaks of red and blue tracers, aimed directly at them.

In the silence, the double fighters were scattered, sending fragments of both organic and inorganic matter spinning into the void. As the gunfire reflected off these pieces, the shimmering clouds of debris were disrupted, dancing erratically until they became part of a vast, luminous nebula.

Regardless of its humanity, it was a magnificent painting of death, as beautiful as anything mankind could ever create.

As the Golden Sheep charged across the battlefield, leading a dozen escort vessels in its wake, the artillery fire from the Uraniborg fleet concentrated upon it, attempting to pursue and encircle the formation. In the meantime, the Austra moved in another direction, scattering small and medium-sized enemy ships and launching a persistent assault upon the port gate of Uraniborg. The gate, which had only just finished its repairs, was swallowed once more by light and flame, taking with it a heavy cruiser that had thrust its forward section out as if to depart for battle, and fell into silence.

“Enemy ships are also emerging from the fourth port gate!”

“Hoh hoh!”

There was a pleasant ring of tension in Ariabert’s voice.

“A simultaneous sortie? It seems Idris has thought this through at least a little.”

“What is Idris’ objective?”

On occasion, even Jouslain would raise his voice.

“Perhaps he intends to disperse our forces.”

“Precisely.”

“And what if we do not fall for his scheme?”

Jouslain had asked an abstract question.

“Just watch.”

Without showing even a hint of fluster, Ariabert answered, issuing two or three orders to Captain Edna Fredericks. He then issued further commands to the communications officer.

The Austra began a slow turn, appearing to head towards the fourth docking gate. To the enemy, it looked as though the ship was exposing its broadside. Just as the fleet from Uraniborg attempted to close the distance and attack, several ship silhouettes darted out from the shadow of the Austra, intercepting their path.

“Unable to avoid!”

Simultaneously with that scream, which took the form of a report, the side walls of the cruisers collided. Had there been an atmosphere, the jarring sound of the impact would have thundered like a clap of lightning.

While there was no sound, the impact shook the hull, sending cracks racing through the walls. Inside the ship, soldiers who had been standing were knocked down by an invisible force, instruments erupted in sparks and smoke, and exposed gun barrels were snapped in two.

“The skiff is half-destroyed! Launch impossible!”

“Repair it! How long will it take?”

“We need one hour.”

“Damn it, they got us.”

The tactical methods employed by the Ariabert-Jouslain Allied Forces were diverse and extremely sophisticated. Ariabert appeared as if he were even enjoying the manoeuvres of local combat, having already established an advantage across the entire battlefield.

The moment over a dozen heavy cruisers of the Uraniborg fleet attempted to pass through the web of photons stretched between the patrol ships, enemy gun ports opened all at once.

The concentrated fire against the dense formation of large vessels was so effective that even aiming was unnecessary. Spears of pale blue light shimmered as they battered the line of ships. Small fireballs expanded rapidly, shining with particular intensity before scattering. In that silent world, a turbulence of energy erupted. It collided, tangled, and sucked everything into itself, growing larger and more ferocious.

The small and medium-sized vessels struggled desperately to escape this deadly turbulence, but they were swallowed up in groups of a hundred, spinning within the energy vortex. Soldiers were flung from floor to ceiling and from ceiling to wall; they were slammed against surfaces, their limbs broken as they coughed up blood. Amidst the threat of being consumed by the merciless turbulence, one massive ship charged through, overcoming the chaos. It was the battleship Faratax of Uraniborg.

“Eleven o’clock! Three consecutive main battery salvos!”

The voice of Captain Edna Fredericks rang out clearly.

The nine main guns of the Austra unleashed a dazzling, pure white flash.

The power displayed was enough to leave every witness breathless. The nine white dragons tore through the massive hull of the battleship Faratax of the Uraniborg fleet, positioned ahead, and continued straight on to pierce the heavy cruiser Diamentra behind it. As the massive frame of the Faratax scattered, transforming from an orange fireball into a white cloud, countless fragments of light, large and small, flew in every direction behind it.

In the midst of the desperate struggle, the destruction of the dock gates that Ariabert had carried out beforehand was beginning to yield devastating effects. Each gate’s original capacity for ships to enter and exit had been significantly reduced. While intact vessels were being prevented from launching through the narrowed entrances, repair work was simultaneously obstructing damaged ships attempting to flee inside.

“Requesting temporary return! Open the dock gates!”

A ship that sent this anguished transmission to Uraniborg was, in the very next moment, pierced by a spear of energy. One by one, the dock gates were transformed into a graveyard for the forces of Uraniborg.

“Battleship Paramiduse, unable to continue combat!”

“Heavy Cruiser Kappenberg, main battery damaged, repairs impossible!”

Communications reporting damage flooded the circuits.

Idris had not even eaten and was sitting in his seat within the combat command centre, leaning halfway forward.

“The unit that gathered at spatial coordinates J8, E4, P11… Why aren’t they attacking the enemy from the right rear!? If we can break through that sector, the enemy should be forced to spend time reorganising their formation!”

He issued highly detailed instructions, but…

“If we move that unit, the enemy will charge into the space left wide open. If that happens, the second port gate will be directly exposed to heavy gunfire.”

He could do nothing but grit his teeth at that reply.

The flames of war grew increasingly intense, with no end in sight.

However, this was because the forces of Uraniborg had calculated themselves to be twice as strong as the enemy. Had the forces on both sides been equal, the battle would likely have already reached its final stage.

It seemed as though a fact was being proven: as long as an unconventional stratagem as nonsensical as Fan Hyulick’s failed to meet the necessary conditions, no one could triumph over the deployment and command of Ariabert Tytania.

Ariabert organised his entire force into a long, serpentine formation and set Uraniborg to circle in a clockwise direction. Without so much as a glance at the enemy attempting to close in from behind, he concentrated his bombardment upon the six harbour gates of Uraniborg. Naturally, the gates were defended with exceptional strength, yet they could not withstand the concentration of firepower, which exceeded all expectations, and they began to explode and burst into flames one after another. Consequently, many vessels were trapped within the harbour, unable to sortie, while elsewhere, the ships that had already departed were prevented from making temporary returns for supplies or repairs.

“Sixth Unit, maximum speed!” ordered Ariabert. “Advance rapidly at two o’clock position, break through the enemy centre diagonally, and divide their forces!”

To Jouslain, Ariabert’s figure appeared less like a combat commander and more like the conductor of a symphony orchestra. He even felt as though he were hearing the performance of a full orchestra within a silent world.

The voice of the reconnaissance officer rang out with excitement.

“We have successfully divided the enemy forces.”

“Good.”

“However, while they are in disarray, it appears the enemy is attempting to regroup.”

“No need for concern. Exactly as anticipated.”

Ariabert appeared as though he knew no fatigue.

In contrast, Idris appeared to those around him to be utterly exhausted. At his feet, coffee and truffle pies lay scattered. That was due to Idris brushing aside the lunch tray that his attendant had brought, thinking he was being helpful.

“Concentrate all fire on the Golden Sheep! Ignore the cost!”

Idris’ voice rose with fervour. The Golden Sheep was a battle-hardened warship, renowned as Ariabert’s flagship. Destroying it had now become Idris’ supreme mission.

Idris had no way of knowing that Ariabert had transferred his command seat to the Austra. If they could concentrate their fire upon the Golden Sheep and succeed in killing Ariabert, the tide of battle would turn in an instant. Jouslain was by no means incompetent from a military standpoint, but he did not possess the feat of defeating forty thousand ships with only twenty thousand. Besides, one cannot clap with only one hand.

That was precisely Idris’ aim. Lacking even trusted comrades, he was forced into a solitary struggle, attempting to mimic that one-handed clap all on his own.

II

Looking back now, Zarlisch’s sheer, forceful ferocity felt almost nostalgic. Every single vessel would charge forward with a roaring cry, crushing the enemy. Defeat, retreat, withdrawal—such words did not exist within Zarlisch’s army. There was only fierce assault, strenuous struggle, and valiant combat.

Yet, in the height of irony, a swarm of allied vessels blocked the path of Zarlisch’s former subordinates. There was no way they could simply force their way through them.

Commodore Redgrape, one of Zarlisch’s former subordinates, bellowed in indignation:

“These miscalculations are far too extreme! What is the point of leaving our finest elite units as mere-patrol forces? By the time our moment will come, it will already be too late!”

However, it was understandable from Idris’ perspective. It was precisely because he considered Zarlisch’s former subordinates to be the absolute elite that he had been preserving them. Had he waited for the right moment to commit those fresh, unscathed forces all at once, the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain should have fallen into total disarray.

But Idris failed to seize the opportunity. He missed several chances to deploy the fresh reinforcements. No, no, that was not quite it. It was Ariabert who had prevented Idris from ever seizing his moment.

Like masters of three-dimensional chess, the two young Tytania nobles deployed their available forces to various strategic points. Their minds clashed, sparks flying across distances and dimensions.

However, there was one decisive difference from three-dimensional chess. Idris was not afforded the luxury of deep thought. Ariabert had forced the conflict into a swift, short-term engagement and, by destroying the harbour gate of Uraniborg, had significantly depleted Idris’ massive army. This, too, had been a major miscalculation on Idris’ part.

Among the Uraniborg forces, trapped within the harbour due to the destruction of the gate, an argument had broken out between the officers and the soldiers.

“Don’t you lot get lax! We’re just unable to go out at the moment. No armistice or peace treaty has been signed. The order to sortie might come at any moment!”

“We can hear you perfectly well, even without you shouting.”

“You there, what did you say? If you don’t curb that insolent attitude, you’ll be spending forty-eight hours in the brig!”

“The brig? Thank you, that increases my chances of survival. I suppose I shall drink the wine of victory once I wake up.”

“You insolent wretch!”

Watching the scene, another officer let out a sigh.

“What an eyesore. Back when Duke Zarlisch was still with us, such a state of affairs would have been unimaginable. To think we’ve fallen in such disgrace in barely six months.”

Had Zarlisch been alive, he would have taken the lead of the fleet and launched a preemptive strike the moment he learned of Ariabert and the others approaching. While such a move might have been reckless, Idris, who had approached the battle with undue caution, had instead ended up creating numerous skirmishers and failing to capitalise on his own advantages.

It was originally a battle between allies. At first, there was no rise in morale, but as the exchange of artillery fire intensified and the fireballs and flashes increased, the professional soldierly consciousness among Zarlisch’s troops, who had already deployed outside Uraniborg grew rapidly accompanied by excitement.

“Are we going to lose just like this?”

“More like are we going to lose without even fighting?”

“The name of His Grace the late Zarlisch will be disgraced!”

“We were the ones who made the military might of Tytania shine throughout the cosmos!”

“Duke Ariabert, what can he possibly do?!”

Further emboldened by their own words, Zarlisch’s former subordinates began their advance. Seeing this, Idris attempted to stop them but ultimately abandoned the idea. He reconsidered, thinking that there was no time to hold back Zarlisch's former men. There was nothing quite like using their great prowess to deal a fatal blow to the enemy's strength.

This was exactly what Ariabert had hoped for. Before Zarlisch’s former subordinates could rush to the front lines, he concentrated his fire on Uraniborg’s Rear-admiral Edulton’s unit to solidify a favourable tactical position, while simultaneously slamming his mobile forces into the left flank.

As a result, in an attempt to evade the fierce onslaught from the left, Rear-admiral Edulton’s unit moved all at once towards the right. It was a predictable reaction, and one that did not exceed Ariabert’s expectations. Space mines, numbering around five hundred, were drifting in the direction of Rear-admiral Edulton’s movements. Following the screams of the reconnaissance officer, the first flash of an explosion erupted, triggering a chain reaction that stirred up a cloud of light.

“Concentration and speed.”

Ariabert believed that this was the very essence of military command on the battlefield, and he executed it with precision and steadfastness. While Idris was preoccupied with over-analysing the meaning behind every enemy movement, Ariabert utilised his mobility to deliver a stinging blow before swiftly withdrawing. From the perspective of Zarlisch’s school of tactical thought, one would have been tempted to curse him, shouting, “Fight with dignity, you cunning coward!”

Zarlisch’s former subordinates clung to the retreating enemy.

“Advance! Advance! Do not retreat!”

Commodore Redgrape, who claimed to be the successor to the late Duke Zarlisch—though not in the eyes of others—rose his massive frame from his command seat. He planted one foot on the floor and braced the other against the seat. To the young soldiers watching him, his presence appeared nothing less than reassuring.

“Two consecutive broadsides! And then, advance five thousand kilometres!”

“Blow away those rebels at 10:30 position, all at once!”

The order was carried out almost perfectly. In that regard, Commodore Redgrape was a brave and useful commander. However, the Duke, who had been able to control Commodore Redgrape’s reckless charge at a higher level, was no longer of this world.

Commodore Redgrape’s unit charged headlong, lacking coordination with the other units. This left them isolated and separated from their allies. Ariabert was not about to let this slip by. First, over a hundred single-seat fighters unleashed sharp, hit-and-run volleys of fire.

Three thick beams converged upon the wounded side of the hull. Incandescent fissures glowed with iridescent colours, as if the hands of an invisible giant were tearing the ship apart.

The battleship Fleetwood, along with Commodore Redgrape, was transformed into an orange fireball and scattered into dozens of great serpents of light.

Having lost their flagship, Redgrape’s fleet fell into chaos without any formal delegation of command. It was then that Ariabert’s forces launched an assault, employing a three-to-one tactic. Redgrape’s remaining forces were forced to face three enemies at once and were destroyed in rapid succession. The three undamaged ships then set upon the next target, causing it to explode in an equally brief interval.

The disadvantage in overall numbers had been completely overturned through the thorough application of remarkable “concentration and speed”. At this moment, Idris, feeling the thirst in his throat as expected, was drinking some mineral water, but he clicked his tongue while still clutching the bottle and issued an order to the reconnaissance officer.

“Switch the display to Screen B!”

The screen switched immediately, displaying a different scene from the battlefield. Although it was supposed to have happened, the operators were under the illusion for a few seconds that the switch had failed. This was because there was almost no difference in the sight depicted on the screen.

Against a backdrop of dancing light and shadow, a scene of one-sided destruction and slaughter unfolded. Since both sides were regular Tytania forces, there should have been no disparity in the capabilities of the vessels. Their individual combat abilities should also have been equal, yet when it came to collective action, the level of sophistication was entirely different.

“Zarlisch’s Fleet exists only because of Duke Zarlisch.”

The one who lamented so was Commander Granite, who often served as a moderating influence while under Zarlisch’s command.

Commander Granite looked to the heavens in despair. Having maintained a fairly calm assessment of the late Duke Zarlisch, he found himself preoccupied by the fact that the enemy general was none other than Duke Ariabert.

The perception was that of the ruthless general Zarlisch pitted against the wise general Ariabert. To be sure, while Ariabert did not lack for cunning and certainly surpassed Zarlisch in prudence and judgement, he was ultimately an orthodox and meticulous commander who never resorted to unconventional or nonsensical tactics.

However, Commander Granite knew that Zarlisch, who should have been superior in raw strength, had met an unexpected death at the hands of Fan Hyulick. It was that very experience that misled the Commander. It was for this reason that, in this chaotic era, Fan Hyulick would be remembered as the “Trickster of the Battlefield”.

“The individual known as Fan Hyulick was not particularly ambitious, nor did he possess a great passion for reform, nor did he lead vast armies to conduct magnificent large-scale battles. His military victories were such that they might almost be considered accidental, yet it remains a fact that the results exerted an immense political influence.” (M. Thornycroft)

This assessment was likely correct, but it undoubtedly overlooked a crucial point. The victories achieved through Hyulick’s unorthodox stratagems had a significant impact on the soldiers who fought in actual combat. The shock inflicted upon the military by the fact that “vast armies could be defeated through nonsensical, unconventional tactics” was profound.

Because the defeats of Ariabert and Zarlisch had been so striking, tactics that were originally intended as a “cornered rat bites the cat” desperation move were instead romanticised and celebrated. In terms of military theory, heresy had pushed orthodoxy aside. While Fan Hyulick should not have been held responsible, it was ironic that had he simply lost while leading the Euria army as the high command had planned, the Tytanian Age might never have been shaken.

Regardless of his personal intentions, Fan Hyulick had indeed created the catalyst that changed history. Before it began, the Battle of Cerberus was thought to be nothing more than a local skirmish, and even the victors believed so once it had concluded.

III

Historians of later generations noted that despite Ariabert’s defeat by Fan Hyulick on two separate occasions, he did not lose the trust of the troops under his command at all. It is recognised as a fact that he was not merely a military strategist but a renowned commander who possessed true personal leadership. As evidence, when he boldly attacked Uraniborg, there were zero desertions.

From the soldiers’ perspective, they did not view this as a rebellion against Tytania’s rule, nor did they consider it resistance against the Clanner. To them, it was simply a matter of determining who would take the seat of the future leader within the framework of Tytania’s permanent system of governance, through military means rather than peaceful ones.

Ariabert was beloved by the soldiers, but had Idris emerged victorious, they would have simply revered him as Clanner despite any underlying grievances. Looking at the scale and the aftermath of the “Uraniborg Incident”, the disparity between the perceptions of those involved and the reality of the situation was immense.

A tempest of heat and flame swept through the corridor, swallowing soldiers of all ages and genders who had failed to escape. Final screams rang out, and the stench of burning flesh stung the nostrils. A dark shadow, half-consumed by golden flames, struggled and flailed wildly before finally collapsing onto the floor. A soldier, his abdomen slashed by a flying fragment of something, lost the strength to continue as he tried to push his protruding intestines back inside with bloody hands, eventually falling still.

“Damn it, damn it! To think that Tytania was brought down by Tytania…”

“Medic!… Get a medic!”

Of course, if one emerged victorious, the future was bright, and even in defeat, a future could still exist. That was, provided one remained alive; the scent of blood and the state of the ravaged ship had replenished his nerves and veins with a fresh surge of terror that should have long since worn away.

“Will Duke Idris not be heading out with the Black Prince!?”

An accusatory voice drifted through the communication network, yet Idris showed no intention of leaving the combat command room.

To brand Idris a “coward” would be far too harsh. He did not fear death. It was simply that, in inverse proportion to the strength of his ambition, he loathed failure. In particular, he feared that a military failure would lead to a political one, and while he was capable of making bold and cold-blooded decisions, he often hesitated to execute them.

The late Zarlisch, when referring to that aspect of Idris, gave the following conclusion:

“That guy possesses far too much malice.”

Because Idris’ relationship with Jouslain had soured, eventually even resulting in armed conflict, he was frequently compared to Jouslain. However, considering his lack of consistent strategy, his unyielding ambition, and his deficiency in tactical flexibility, ought he not rather be compared to Fan Hyulick? If Hyulick was a free man in exile, then Idris was a noble captive, confined within the magnificent prison known as Uraniborg.

“Uraniborg is a prison.”

Jouslain, who had once seen through the truth of it, desired an escape from that place and was now closing in upon him as an “enemy”.

“Did he guy himself ever imagine such a situation? Unlikely. Much less Ariabert…”

Idris, who was three years younger than Ariabert and Jouslain, harboured an excessive sense of rivalry towards them, which grew into complete hostility within a single year. Some historians went so far as to argue that the alliance between Ariabert and Jouslain was, in fact, created by Idris himself.

Of several political options available, Idris chose to turn both Ariabert and Jouslain into his enemies at once; however, to dismiss this as mere overconfidence or foolishness would be to overlook the rapid shift in circumstances that followed.

In any case, it was the first time in history that the flames of war had reached Uraniborg.

The transparent canopy covering Uraniborg would not sustain even a scratch from a collision with a frigate. It consisted of a six-centimetre-thick layer of diamond-hard transparent ceramic. Beneath that lay a thirty-centimetre layer of air, followed by more transparent ceramic, more air… and so on; the outer hull comprised twelve such layers. In the event of an emergency, fluid ceramic would be pumped into the air layers, further bolstering the defensive strength. Thus, it became clear that Ariabert’s later instruction to “destroy up to six layers” had been intended solely as a threat, rather than an attempt to achieve the complete destruction of Uraniborg.

The residents of Uraniborg, save for the Tytania military, were all peaceful recluses who had been permitted to reside within the Tytania stronghold, spending their days in tranquillity, cleanliness, and prosperity. They had never imagined that Uraniborg would ever fall under military assault, and indeed, such a thing had not occurred for generations. But now, all of that was a thing of the past.

It wasn’t only the citizens of Uraniborg. Half of the people living upon the surface of the planet Vardana also gazed up at the night sky and gasped. The expanding clouds of light looked almost like gargantuan interstellar organisms, swallowing and digesting the natural stars. Within the inner gardens of the grand, classical Vardana Imperial Palace, Harsha VI remained on the balcony, his gaze fixed upwards in ecstasy, having left his dinner unfinished.

“Behold! Lo and behold, Empress! Tytania is slaying herself. With her very own hands, strangling her own kin!”

Harsha VI’s ecstasy was gradually veering into madness. The unfortunate Emperor had been plagued by feelings of humiliation and helplessness regarding Tytania since before his adulthood, but now, his surging euphoria was on the verge of shattering the ceiling of his reason.

The Empress sensed danger, yet no matter how many times she attempted to soothe him, it was to no avail. She could do little more than sigh and dismiss the attendants, doing her utmost to ensure that her husband’s voice and manners were not witnessed by others.

Once again, a chain of explosions erupted, tracing a massive necklace of death and destruction across the night sky. As Harsha VI gazed up at it through the canopy, the silver goblet slipped from his hand and bounced upon the floor of the imperial palace balcony. A reddish-purple liquid stained the hem of his imperial robes, but the Emperor did not notice.

“Behold, Empress! I care not if it is by the thousands or tens of thousands, but those Tytanian bastards are dying! It is retribution for their wickedness. At last, the era I have dreamed of is arriving!”

The Empress, watching her frenzied husband from a distance, had a look of profound desolation in her eyes.

“… In that mere private war, untold millions of people suffered physical and mental collapse. More than anything, it was the era itself that was in collapse.” (J. Augustus)

Duke Idris Tytania, who might be described as the natural nemesis of Harsha VI, appeared to be finally reaping the consequences of years of irreverence. Had Harsha VI been able to behold the young nobleman’s utterly haggard face, he might have died from sheer joy.

“To be overwhelmed so unilaterally…”

Idris was seized by a sensation as if the landscape before his eyes were losing its colour. It was as though intense stress had caused his optic nerves to malfunction.

In purely military terms, he was far from being Ariabert’s equal. Though he did not say it aloud, Idris had to admit it. He had never been so conceited as to believe his own military genius surpassed that of Ariabert. However, he had not been so self-deprecating as to believe there was a vast gulf between them; he had thought that he could catch up within five years and surpass him in achievements within ten.

To begin with, the talent and magnanimity worthy of the Tytania supreme commander were not limited solely to pure military prowess. It was enough to possess the discernment to appoint capable commanders whenever the need arose. At the very least, for the last three or four generations, no Clanner had demonstrated military ability that surpassed Idris.

Many times, Idris found a favourable opportunity in battle. The enemy fleet was emerging from the chaos of melee and attempting to regroup. After confirming their position, Idris shouted with lightning-fast decisiveness:

“Now! Fire! Fire! Fire!”

The rail cannons spat supersonic projectiles with a silent roar.

The concentrated fire proved successful, creating large and small fireballs that tore holes in the formation of the combined Ariabert-Jouslain fleet. Without hesitation, Idris ordered the deployment of corvettes aimed directly at those breaches. While five hundred ships would have been ideal, he could only move about three hundred and fifty. That was enough. Idris proceeded with the execution of his plan.

Ariabert made no attempt to intercept. Avoiding the manoeuvring attack of the charging corvette group, he focused on skilfully plugging the gaps while attempting to increase the distance between them and Uraniborg.

Idris found himself shouting aloud:

“It worked!”

IV

Something strange happened.

Or rather, it did not happen. Nothing happened at all. Although the guardian angels of Uraniborg—the military satellite constellations—had the vessels of the combined Ariabert-Jouslain fleet within range, they made no attempt to fire either their rail cannons or their laser cannons.

Ariabert continued the fleet manoeuvres with complete composure, forming a new battle line. Regardless of the artistic skill required, one had to wonder how he could remain so calm while utterly ignoring the satellite swarms.

“… Ah!”

Idris groaned, suddenly realising something.

It was the programme integrated to prevent military satellites from firing upon their own side. Their cannons were capable of identifying friendly forces. Every vessel within the Tytania fleet was equipped with identification tags. And the Honest Old Man Junior was no exception.

Because all the vessels in the combined Ariabert-Jouslain fleet originally belonged to Tytania, they utilised these identification tags to avoid accidental attacks caused by misidentification from the military satellites. They were known as “talismans”. These tags transmitted identification signals to the satellites, and upon receiving them, the weapons equipped on the satellites would fail to activate entirely.

Idris felt murderous intent at his own carelessness.

“Change the programme!”

Passion and regret set Idris’ voice ablaze.

“Modify the tactical computer’s programme so that it no longer accepts the identification signals sent from Ariabert and Jouslain’s vessels’ talismans!”

“It… it will take one hour.”

“Do it in thirty minutes.”

“With all due respect…”

“I said do it!”

The interception commander in charge of the tactical computer was Vice-Admiral Elsey, an elderly thin man, but as he attempted to argue further, Idris pointed a finger at him.

“You are relieved of your post. Consider yourself lucky that you aren’t being punished for disobedience.”

In the silenced room, only Idris’ voice echoed.

“Who is the interception vice-commander?”

“I am, sir.”

“Your name?”

“My name is Ridenhour.”

“Very well. From this moment on, you are the interception commander. Your rank is rear-admiral? I am promoting you to vice-admiral. The official order will be issued before the end of the day. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes.”

The newly appointed Vice-Admiral Ridenhour offered a Tytania-style salute, while Vice-Admiral Elsey, having been stripped of his rank and honour, slumped his shoulders and departed the scene in dejection. Idris did not even see him out.

“An hour should be plenty, but let us be certain.”

Ariabert, too, had devised a new plan, taking into account the time required to repair the satellite constellation.

“Attack the military satellites… no, destroy them.”

If the battle dragged on and the military satellite constellation’s programme were altered, their allies would find themselves subject to attacks from large-calibre guns. He had taken this worst-case scenario into account. The reason he had changed his phrasing from “attack” to “destroy” was because, at that moment, the military satellites entirely lacked any capacity for counterattack and would simply be pummelled whilst unable to fight back.

Having chosen his words with an odd sense of fastidiousness, Ariabert proceeded to issue a demand for the surrender of the satellite constellation.

As a result, the commanders of each satellite were forced to make a decision. Death or surrender.

“It is cowardly to launch a unilateral attack against those who lack the means to retaliate.”

Protesting in such a manner was useless. As long as their power remained active, they possessed weapons. Since they had also demonstrated the intent to use them, Ariabert had no obligation to show them mercy. If left alone, they would be under attack within an hour or two. There was no need for hesitation in striking first.

In the end, every single one of the twelve satellites, so to speak, conveyed their intent to surrender. However, it was at this moment that Ariabert issued a ruthless command.

“If you intend to surrender, aim the heavy artillery at Uraniborg.”

Ariabert’s order was a perfect specimen of “Tytanian ruthlessness”.

“Control the output and prepare to destroy up to the sixth layer of the firmament. Any failure to comply with this instruction will be deemed an intent to resist, and you shall be destroyed immediately.”

Rejection was no longer possible. Furthermore, the instruction to destroy “only up to the sixth layer” signified that Ariabert had no intention of completely obliterating Uraniborg. One after another, the commanders of each satellite yielded, and they trained their heavy artillery upon Uraniborg.

Of course, Idris knew of this, but he remained so calm that he even felt a sense of irony himself. He possessed a strange premonition that everything would be over before the heavy artillery of the satellite constellation could even fire.

Ariabert continued to issue commands.

“Fourth Unit, you’ve heard the situation. Ascend from the nadir towards the zenith, and concentrate your fire on the enemy’s reassembly point.”

“Repeating orders! Ascend from nadir towards zenith…”

The crew on the bridge must have been accumulating fatigue, fighting without any rest, yet with their sympathetic nervous systems in full operation, there was no sign of flagging morale.

Balamy noticed someone tugging at his sleeve. When he cast his gaze downwards to the left, he saw Princess Lydia looking up at him with a dead-serious expression, a small parcel held in her left hand.

“You are quite lost in thought, Bal.”

“M-my apologies, Princess. Do you require something?”

“I shall give you half of this, so let us eat together.”

Upon opening the parcel, he found several kelsey biscuits inside.

“I could not possibly accept your snacks, Princess…”

“I have heard that sweets help to activate the brain cells.”

“You are well-informed.”

“Even without such a reason, one should simply accept another’s kindness.”

“You are quite right. Thank you.”

While still holding a biscuit in his mouth, Balamy glanced at the screen and his eyes widened.

“There are reserve enemy forces in that position…”

Even as Balamy stood dazed, a group of high-speed ships emerged from an unexpected location and began to assault the Uraniborg forces from the eight o’clock position, wielding blades of light to start carving through the enemy formation. Amidst the dizzying dance of light and shadow, Balamy realised that Princess Lydia was still by his side.

“Princess, if you continue to stare for so long, you will hurt your eyes.”

“I know… but it feels such a waste.”

“A waste, your Highness?”

“The Kingdom of Elbing possesses three battleships. They were purchased from Tytania forty years ago. The older models had a twenty percent discount…”

They would likely be of no use at all. They were probably nothing more than mere ornaments. Balamy empathised with how much the Princess’ heart must have ached when she heard that the forces of Uraniborg were set to attack the Kingdom of Elbing. He possessed enough experience to be capable of such empathy.

Jouslain was lost in thought.

He had come into this world from the quagmire of Tytania, surrounded by magnificent flowers. He knew where he had come from. But where, then, was he headed next?

He knew that even contemplating such things was a luxury afforded only by privilege. Soldiers caught in the heat of a fierce battle had no leisure for such pseudo-philosophical musings. In a single moment of distraction, struck by the thought of being hungry, a beam might hit them directly, ensuring they would never feel hunger again.

Despite knowing this, Jouslain drifted into his own contemplations rather than synchronising with the spirits of the soldiers. Having been born in a high position with the power to sway individual lives and the fate of nations, what was he meant to do? He had reached a tentative conclusion, but to bring it to fruition…

“Lord Jouslain, what are you doing?”

“… Oh, Princess, well, I was lost in thought. It’s quite a difficult matter.”

“Is there something even you cannot understand, Lord Jouslain?”

“There is nothing but things I do not understand.”

Where would he be, and what would he be doing at this time tomorrow? No, Jouslain could not even predict what would happen five minutes from now. He was alive now. He would likely be alive in five minutes, too. There was no evidence for it; he simply thought so.

Jouslain gazed countless times at Ariabert’s back, which stood so composed at the command seat, and each time, he felt a sensation akin to relief. As long as Ariabert remained well, Jouslain could avoid overthinking the meaning of life. He could simply focus on his duties and support Ariabert. That day was already drawing near. Though he would likely have to deal with some quite unpleasant matters…

A light impact struck the bridge. A gunboat from Uraniborg had lost control and collided with the Austra. While the larger vessel had sustained no apparent damage, the smaller one was not so fortunate.

V

The gunboat, having been flung aside, spun wildly, scattering fragments from its torn outer hull, before colliding with the canopy of Uraniborg.

A few of the residents of Uraniborg might have seen a tiny crack appear in a corner of the night sky. Hundreds of times that many were convinced they had seen it. Though they likely thought it impossible, the very fact that actual combat between Tytania factions was unfolding around Uraniborg was, in itself, impossible.

“The canopy is cracking!”

“What happens if the canopy breaches!?”

“We’re all going to be tossed out into space!”

The panic-mongers, who existed in every era, in every place, and in every situation, let out screams. The men and women around them were visibly shaken, scurrying about in a desperate attempt to find somewhere to flee. Of course, there were some who remained calm.

“Fool, there is no way it could break. What do you think Uraniborg is?”

“But cracks are actually appearing like that…”

“Listen, you! You can make all the noise you want, but where exactly do you intend to flee to?” shouted a seemingly thoughtful officer among the Tytania soldiers tasked with city security. “Silence! Calm yourselves, citizens. It is impossible for the canopy of Uraniborg to break. I strictly forbid any words or actions that incite social unrest or provoke panic. Depending on the circumstances, I will authorise lethal force. Now, everyone disperse and return to your homes. Sleep in peace. We guarantee the safety of Uraniborg, do you understand?!”

There was no need to be timid; if the situation reached a point where one could accuse him of failing to provide such a guarantee, everyone would be dead anyway. It was perfectly fine to declare such things with absolute confidence.

“Now, move along, move along! If you want to watch a show, go home and watch it with your families!”

Once the residents had been driven from the square, the soldiers exchanged private conversation among themselves.

“At this rate, if we concentrated about a dozen heavy battleships on a single point and rammed them at high speed, we might be able to destroy the canopy all the way to the innermost layer.”

“And then leave future generations with the infamy of mass-slaughtering civilians? I doubt Lord Ariabert or Lord Jouslain would have any desire for such a thing.”

“True. Besides, even without resorting to such an act…”

“Fool, say no more.”

An officer with a pale face ran past them just a moment later, leading his subordinates. The soldiers quickly fell into line with solemn expressions and offered salutes. It seemed that the higher one’s rank, the paler one grew as the prospect of defeat became more certain.

The one who had gone the palest in Uraniborg was, of course, Duke Idris, but he had not lost his fortitude. While being crushed by the sheer scale of the losses, he muttered,

“There are still three hundred thousand carracks remaining.”

That was an undeniable fact, yet compared to the magnificent grandeur of the Black Prince, those numbers likely lacked any real intimidation.

By their very nature, carracks were equipped with only the minimum necessary weaponry for the purpose of self-defence and as a deterrent against anti-Tytania factions. When attacked by pirates, they would flee while attempting to fight back. Provided they could hold out, the Tytania regular army, having received emergency communications, would arrive to the rescue. All they needed to do was buy enough time.

Furthermore, there was no guarantee that the three hundred thousand carracks would all side with Idris. They were currently watching the struggle for Uraniborg with bated breath. They had no obligation to support the loser, and their consciences would not suffer even if they let Idris perish. If Ariabert were to seize hegemony, they would scramble to prove their loyalty and vie for the lead.

As he imagined this, Idris loathed their lack of principle, though he knew he was merely taking his frustrations out on them.

“The first Neville, the second Nuri, the third Chatelet, the fourth Var, the fifth Barneveld…”

Idris murmured the names of the successive Clanners. Among them, he held the second, Nuri, in the highest reverence. He believed that Nuri’s cold ruthlessness was precisely what Tytania needed most. The fortitude of the first Neville was, of course, also worthy of praise. However, towards the Clanners from the third generation onwards, Idris felt no need to accord them any courtesy beyond that due to their status as ancestors.

Had they not merely remained upon the foundation laid by the first Neville and the second Nuri? They already possessed the greatest military power in the universe, and there had existed no one to oppose or attack them head-on. Had such formidable foes emerged, Idris wondered whether Tytania could have even survived until this day. Indeed, Idris had to admit that Ariabert was a powerful enemy. If he did not, he would be admitting to having been defeated by a weak one.

Zelpha, Idris’ younger brother, stood about ten paces behind his brother.

Zelpha watched the battle, biting his lip so hard it threatened to bleed and clenching his fists with such intensity that his nails dug into his palms. If his gaze possessed the physical power to destroy objects, the space battleships of the Ariabert-Jouslain allied forces would have successively turned into fireballs and vanished.

“Ah, if this were ten years from now, or even five… I would be the one leading the fleet, and I would turn both Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain into stardust for my brother’s sake…!”

He had almost deified his eldest brother, yet he simply could not bring himself to undervalue the strength of Ariabert and the others.

The clouds of light were gradually contracting. Even within the media vessel observing the scene, communications were flying back and forth between the front lines and the rear.

“We might not be able to release it now, but think thirty or fifty years down the line! This could become a historical record of the Tytania split. Doesn’t your journalist’s blood stir at the thought?”

“Cap.”

“What is it?”

“… Do you really think Tytania is going to split apart like this?”

The Director fell silent, perhaps not because he had been asked an unexpected question, but because he himself harboured doubts and uncertainties.

“What do you think, Cap? Tytania…”

“You shouldn’t waste your meagre intellect on such things right now! What we need are the facts. Think of nothing but conveying the facts to future generations!”

It was certain that the end was drawing closer, bit by bit. Mingled with the hospital fleets, media vessels crept slowly towards the cloud of light, hoping to capture the decisive moment on film, but shells from rail cannons, arriving from out of nowhere, pierced their hulls, scattering life, ambition, and mission alike into the dark void.

Duchess Theresa Tytania was entirely ignorant of military affairs. She could not distinguish between strategy and tactics, and she referred to all warships simply as battleships. She preferred the tales of art, fashion, and romance told by her second son, Arses, to the grand stories of military exploits told by her eldest son, Zarlisch. In Lady Theresa’s view, the vast wealth of Tytania should be invested in art, sophisticated, elegant palaces, and gardens, rather than being squandered on war and political intrigue.

“Idris is quite incompetent. If he were my son, he would have wiped out Ariabert’s entire fleet in thirty minutes.”

Lady Theresa mocked Idris for his struggle, though when she spoke of a “son” in this instance, she was referring to Zarlisch. Zarlisch was a son who was not even half as charming as Arses, but he was useful as a watchdog.

As previously stated, having lost both of her sons, Lady Theresa was a woman who truly deserved the deepest sympathy. However, even the most well-meaning people avoided contact with her as much as possible. It was only natural, given she never gave any proper response to any display of kindness. The moment anyone offered words of comfort, a wine bottle would come flying at them.

Lately, Lady Theresa had stopped drinking wine. It was not that she had abstained from alcohol. Rather, she had grown fond of more potent spirits, such as vodka, rum, and absinthe. Watching from a distance as Lady Theresa dropped cubes of sugar or bits of butter into her vodka and gulped it down, her attendants and ladies-in-waiting trembled in fear.

“It is finally drawing near.”

“Indeed, it has been a long time coming.”

In places away from the nobility, they whispered prophecies among themselves. These were predictions concerning Lady Theresa’s mental breakdown and her physical ruin. Regarding the former, some argued that she had broken long ago, but the latter was progressing so rapidly that it was impossible to tell which end would arrive first.

Gazing through the alcoholic haze at the cluster of scattered bottles, Lady Theresa groaned.

“Idris, Ariabert, Jouslain… Hmph, nothing but a collection of weaklings. I will never hand the seat of the Clanner over to the likes of you. You should all just kill one another. And then, there will be no one left…”

Lady Theresa threw the glass in her hand with all her might towards the forest of bottles. The sound of shattering glass. The scattering of colourful spirits. The thick carpet turned into a marsh of liquor, and the scent of alcohol hung heavy in the air.

Yet, for something like that, no one attempted to rush to the Lady’s side anymore. Bearing a solitude loathed by all, Theresa, once known as a beautiful noblewoman, coughed violently.

When the nurses finally rushed to the scene, what they saw was the Duchess having tumbled from her sofa, her upper body drenched in an unidentifiable liquid. The fluid, a mixture of alcohol, gastric juices, and blood, continued to trickle from the corners of her mouth in small amounts, accompanied by bubbles.

Chapter 8 – That which was Last

I

The translucent wall continued to reflect the ongoing skirmish between the kin outside Uraniborg without ever tiring.

The dancing interplay of light and shadow was, in itself, a brawl of life and death, but the man, clad in a silk gown and reclined deep within his armchair, kept his eyes closed, appearing entirely unexcited. Eventually, as two points of light flickered above the dark shadows, a heavy yet inorganic voice drifted out.

“Idris is likely fighting with all his might, but there is little excitement in seeing things unfold exactly as we predicted.”

The figure reached out a hand lightly, picked up an antique bell-shaped bell from the side table, and rang it twice. After replacing the bell, he rose leisurely from his armchair and continued to watch the battle through the wall, resting both hands lightly behind his waist.

It did not take long. The lights in the grand room brightened by two levels, and the figure of the Tytania Clanner’s butler appeared.

The butler, Oblon, bowed reverently towards his master’s back. As if his lord had eyes on the back of his head.

“I await your commands, Your Clanner Highness.”

“Change my clothes.”

“As you wish.”

Oblon showed no sign of being startled, nor did he ask any unnecessary questions. He had served Ajman for a quarter of a century. He knew what he needed to know regarding the Clanner’s private life, and he knew how to distinguish it from what he had no need to know.

“Prepare my formal attire.”

“As you wish.”

For the first time, he asked a question:

“Which of your formal sets should I prepare?”

“Let us go with the second one.”

“Very well. I shall attend to it immediately.”

Oblon withdrew, observing perfect etiquette.

After finishing his change of clothes at the hands of the four ladies-in-waiting Oblon had summoned, Clanner Ajman left the room, appearing entirely unconcerned by the fact that a life-or-death struggle was unfolding in the vacuum outside. Count Elman, the political secretary, the chief aide-de-camp, the chief scribe, and other high-ranking officials waiting at the doorway all saluted him in unison.

Ajman gave a slight nod before announcing:

“The private feud between those greenhorns must be nearing its limit. I am going to my office.”

“As you wish.”

“Your Highness.”

A woman’s voice rang out. It was Countess Theodora.

“If I may be so bold, should there be anything I can assist with, I shall accompany you.”

The Clanner gave a short laugh.

“What a cunning woman. Do you intend to instigate something in my name to protect your own interests? Since you presume to meddle in affairs beyond your station, perhaps I should have someone like Ariabert or Jouslain execute you.”

Even Theodora appeared to have lost her composure. Ajman passed before her, standing there like a living statue, without so much as a single glance.

Theodora cast a gaze filled with both terror and hostility at his arrogant back, but it proved entirely futile, as if a steel armour deflected her fury. She leaned against the wall and struggled to steady her breathing, letting herself succumb to the sensation of beads of sweat breaking out across her forehead, which looked as though it had been sculpted from marble.

Idris tossed the empty energy drink bottle over his shoulder. One of the soldiers barely managed to catch it. A small bitterness stung Idris’ stomach as he thought that his manners were becoming increasingly coarse. His hair and clothing were not as immaculate as usual, which instead lent a certain ferocity to the young nobleman’s beauty.

“Your younger brother has returned!”

Even upon hearing this, Idris did not react immediately. After a short pause, he looked back at the messenger with suspicion.

“My brother? Was Zelpha away?”

“No, well, I am referring to His Lordship Baron Radmoth…”

“Radmoth?”

It was a reaction as if Idris had completely forgotten he even had a brother by that name. Though he frowned overtly, he nevertheless proceeded to enquire.

“Is he wounded?”

“I wouldn’t call it a wound… He is sleeping, but he is perfectly well.”

“Then it is fine. We shall deal at a later date with his crime of failing to suppress those pirates. Do not allow Radmoth into the combat command room. Let him sleep.”

“Administer an injection and do not wake him for two or three days,” commanded Idris. To be honest, he felt as though he wished the man would simply sleep for eternity. Then, another urgent, important report was brought to him in haste.

“What is it this time!?”

“His Clanner Highness requests your presence, Duke Idris.”

“Now?”

“Indeed, he does.”

“But I cannot leave the combat command centre at a time like this.”

“I must reiterate that His Clanner Highness requests you attend him as soon as possible.”

“What nonsense is that at a time like this!” roared Idris—although only entirely within his own mind.

Was it not only a few days ago that the man had refused Idris’ request for an audience? Whether his mood had changed or his supposed illness had improved, he had chosen, of all times, to summon him in the midst of combat operations. Just how far did he intend to manipulate others at his whim?

Even so, Idris possessed no option to refuse.

“I may be facing judgement regarding that matter.”

Idris felt a dark shudder run through him, but he shuddered once and shook off the fear with a self-deprecating smirk. If it were to come to that, then so be it. What would happen to the battles with Ariabert and Jouslain after his death? Would the Clanner himself fight them, or… No, let it be what it will.

“Furthermore, there is an order that you must bring your younger brother.”

“My brother… Radmoth?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he realised his nerves were beginning to fray. However, the messenger’s reply was unexpected.

“No, your youngest brother.”

“Zelpha?… Nevermind, I understand.”

Though he doubted the Clanner’s true intentions, he had no choice but to comply. Idris called out his youngest brother’s name and beckoned him.

“Zelpha, get yourself presentable. We are having an audience with His Clanner Highness. You are ordered that you accompany me.”

“With His Clanner Highness? Me?”

The boy seemed just as astonished.

“You have met him before, have you not?”

“A few years ago… when I was a child.”

Despite the situation, Idris gave a wry smile at Zelpha’s visibly nervous reply. It seemed the boy still believed himself to be a mere child.

Suddenly, a thought crossed Idris’ mind. It was entirely disconnected from the current situation and the events that had transpired thus far; it was a question so basic it was almost ridiculous.

He was on good terms with Zelpha. But what about Ariabert and Jouslain? Why were they killing one another? And why did the Clanner stand by and watch such carnage with such indifference?

The doubt quickly swelled into suspicion, battering at Idris’ heart from within. Being branded “incompetent” would have been far more bearable than this.

However, the voice of the Clanner, whom he was meeting for the first time in a long while, remained utterly calm.

“What is the progress of the battle?”

“Well…”

Suppressing the dark crimson flames that flared within his chest, Idris replied:

“It is truly a matter of great shame, but the situation is exactly as you behold. We have yet to succeed in annihilating the traitors…”

“It appears the battleship Golden Sheep remains intact.”

“I humbly believe that we have inflicted some degree of damage.”

Ajman curled one corner of his mouth slightly.

“If you begin to falsify your battle reports, you will only sink yourself into a mire of disgrace. I am fine with candid responses, Lord Idris.”

“You are too kind.”

Idris was certain he was being mocked, yet he replied with a steady tone. He resisted the impulse to laugh at his own endeavours.

Ajman’s gaze had already shifted to the side of Idris.

“Raise your head.”

In obedience to the command, Zelpha looked the Clanner directly in the eye.

II

“Are you Lord Idris’ youngest brother?”

“Y-yes.”

“No need to fear.”

“He is so overwhelmed by your presence that he can scarcely find my voice. As he is still but a child, I beg for your indulgence.”

The Clanner showed no interest in Idris’ words.

“And what did you say your name was?”

“Z-Zelpha.”

“Zelpha, is it? I have high hopes for you. One day, you shall become a fine right hand to Lord Idris.”

“That is my greatest wish, no, my greatest desire.”

Sincerity filled Zelpha’s voice.

“It seems you have a good brother, Lord Idris.”

“I am honoured by your words.”

Idris tasted the height of bitterness, thinking that this was a conversation he truly wished Radmoth could have heard. Even so, the Clanner’s true intentions in summoning Idris to this place remained as obscure as ever. From what he could see, although the Clanner appeared somewhat pale, his posture was not in the slightest disarray. Idris simply could not believe he was a man recovering from illness.

“What do you intend to do from here, Lord Idris?”

“I deserve ten thousand deaths for the sin of causing you distress. At present, while the progress of the battle has been sluggish, our army has not yet exerted its full strength. The annihilation of the rebel forces shall be achieved within a day or two.”

“Lord Idris, that is rather vague.”

“Yes, I am most sorry.”

“Was two-to-one too much to handle, after all?”

That murmur set Idris’ younger brother ablaze with shame.

“With all due respect, Your Clanner Highness…”

“Remain silent, Zelpha.”

“But, Brother…”

“Do not speak without His Highness’ permission! Have you forgotten the etiquette of Tytania nobility?”

At Idris’ reprimand, Zelpha fell silent.

“It is quite alright, Zelpha. If you have something to say, then speak.”

“Yes, with Your Highness’ permission, I shall speak. My brother possesses talents far superior to both Ariabert and Jouslain, and his loyalty to Your Highness is unparalleled. I humbly pray that you will continue to place your trust in him.”

It was an extraordinary thing for a boy of twelve or thirteen years to say. Ajman stared intently at Zelpha, taking a moment of silence before breaking it:

“In that case, Baronet Zelpha Tytania, for the sake of your beloved brother, why not attempt to fulfil a mission even if it means staking your life?”

At this sudden command, both elder and younger brother held their breaths, but the younger brother’s reaction speed surpassed that of his elder.

“I am deeply honoured. I await your command.”

“Words are easy enough to speak.”

“Your Highness, I beg you to believe me. For my brother’s sake and my own, I, Zelpha, wish to be of service to you.”

With flushed cheeks and a brilliance like falling stars in his eyes, Zelpha raised his voice fervently. It was an appearance sufficient to make one believe he was a man of great potential.

“Very well, then. I shall place my trust in you and bestow upon you a mission.”

“I… I am deeply grateful. Though I am still inexperienced, I shall never under any circumstances fail to meet your expectations, Your Highness.”

The Clanner and Idris gazed at the boy with their respective expressions. After a moment, Ajman nodded with a sense of satisfaction and resolve, his voice resonating with a heavy depth.

“I intend to meet with Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain.”

Idris felt as though his suspicions had, in fact, been confirmed.

“Do you intend to invite them to Uraniborg?”

“Do you truly think they would come here?”

The Clanner tilted his head slightly. To Idris, the gesture seemed somewhat affected.

“No…”

“I shall send an envoy to act on my behalf. There are matters that are difficult to discuss properly through a communication screen.”

“…”

“While it remains to be seen how they will react as a result, I have, for my part, been able to confirm something important this time.”

“And what might that be?”

“To be honest, I had my concerns regarding Lord Ariabert’s competence, but those have been dispelled. To face forty thousand ships with only twenty thousand and achieve this level of combat. To put it simply, Lord Ariabert’s prowess as a commander is equal to twenty thousand vessels on his own. There shall be no one left who can oppose him militarily.”

Only Zelpha stared directly at him, as if in protest of the Clanner’s words. Having been judged as lacking Ariabert’s strategic genius, Idris could not bring himself to raise his eyes.

Idris bowed his head deeply toward the retreating figure of Ajman as he turned on his heel. It was not out of awe, nor was it out of reverence. It was because if he were to raise his face and look directly, others would see his eyes, scorched with hatred.

By the time he finally raised his head, the Clanner, who had been holding Zelpha’s shoulder like a father, was just disappearing around the corner of the room.

Idris remained standing there, motionless. He had a vision and heard a voice in his head, as if the very throne of Clanner was receding from before him, echoing with the sound of derisive laughter.

Through the transparent walls, swirling eddies of light and shadow enveloped Idris. He appeared like a living corpse.

Was it over? Had it truly ended? Had the Clanner given up on Idris and decided to hand the future of Tytania over to Ariabert and Jouslain?

However, Idris was mistaken.

“Cease fire!”

An authoritative command surged through the communication networks of both armies.

“Cease fire immediately. This is the will of His Clanner Highness. Seal all weapons at once and stand down from combat status. Furthermore, both armies are to maintain a distance of fifty thousand kilometres and remain stationary. I repeat, this is the will of His Clanner Highness.”

Ariabert and Jouslain exchanged glances from their respective positions. When they turned their eyes back to the screens, the forces of “Uraniborg” were in a state of slight confusion, yet they were silencing their artillery and retreating, as if to demonstrate their loyalty and obedience to the Clanner.

As Ariabert and Jouslain followed suit, a mysterious sight appeared ahead of the media fleet.

“The clouds of light appear to be rapidly separating and converging. What could have happened? Military commentator Mr Peterhead, please give us your thoughts.”

“It appears to be a temporary ceasefire. Both sides have ceased their attacks simultaneously and are retreating to increase the distance between them.”

“This is sudden. And quite unexpected. What on earth happened, Mr Peterhead?”

“Something of extreme gravity must have occurred.”

“Something very significant, then.”

“We have no choice but to keep a close watch for a while.”

The conversation they exchanged was by no means meaningless. It served only to intensify the anxiety and suspicion shared by everyone. As for the media, they continued their observations relentlessly, while letting their imaginations run wild with the thought that “such a situation would be unthinkable without a direct order from the Clanner.”

Aboard the battleship Austra, Ariabert and Jouslain were away from the bridge. Tytania-style dreadnoughts always featured an “Audience Chamber”, prepared for instances when the Clanner himself might board. It was a room of approximately fifteen square metres, adorned with classical decorations, with one wall covered by a screen. Upon seeing Ajman dressed in ceremonial attire on the screen, the two dukes knelt.

“I am glad to see you both are well. I would like to meet and speak with you; will you grant me this?”

It was Jouslain’s turn to speak:

“Do you order that we both appear before you in person?”

“That was indeed my intention.”

“As we are but humble members of the Tytania Clan, suspending combat is one thing, but we cannot simply abandon our forces and move recklessly. We humbly request that you issue further instructions.”

“I see. That is a valid point.”

Ajman nodded magnanimously.

“If you were to believe my words without question and rush in without caution, you would not be worthy of being entrusted with the future of Tytania. Moreover, the advantage lies with your side—overwhelmingly so.”

Jouslain felt as though the waves of Idris’ fury were palpable. The combat, which had lasted half a day, had merely exhausted both armies, and Idris still held Uraniborg.

“However, it would be unimaginative to allow us to descend into fratricide without even a final round of negotiations or debate. I shall dispatch an envoy to you. If it is at all possible, I wish to prevent this bloodshed.”

“…”

“It goes without saying that the reason you two raised your banners was due to the belief that Lord Idris had detained me. However, since I am standing here before you, it has become clear that this was a misunderstanding. Therefore, there should no longer be any reason to continue this conflict, is there?”

III

The moment had finally arrived.

Everyone trembled with dread. The time had finally come for Clanner Ajman to appear before the public.

The media’s excitement reached a fever pitch all at once.

“Clanner Ajman is alive and well!”

“Fighting has ceased between the Uraniborg forces and the Ariabert-Jouslain allied forces!”

“A meeting regarding peace negotiations is set to take place at Uraniborg between the Clanner and the three dukes!”

“From this point on, an explanation regarding the terms of the peace will be provided by the Clanner himself…”

It was as if the interstellar communication circuit itself had descended into madness.

“My, it has certainly taken an unexpected turn, hasn’t it, military commentator Mr Peterhead?”

“Well, it is certainly within the realm of what can be expected,” replied the commentator, sounding exactly like a commentator.

“Clanner Ajman…”

Even Doctor Lee stared intently at the screen, muttering the words unconsciously. He even held back his blinks, as if not wanting to miss a single movement of the lips, a twitch of an eyebrow, or the angle of a gaze. Holding a bottle of dark beer in one hand, Fan Hyulick sat with his legs crossed in silence.

“Ah, damn it, if only I could interview him. My name would be etched in history!”

“There is no way you could interview him. Just standing before a Clanner would leave you drenched in cold sweat, unable to speak a word.”

Such a conversation was being exchanged in one corner of the media contingent, but the moment Clanner Ajman, who had appeared on the screen, opened his mouth, all conversation and monologue ceased instantly.

“Of the tens of billions of all humankind, Ajman alone spoke” (K. K. Microft).

The contents of that speech would, in the days to follow, be replayed hundreds of millions of times.

Wounded, exhausted, and shrouded in the sense of defeat, the fleet returned to Uraniborg.

Forty thousand vessels had set out. Fewer than thirty thousand returned, of which eight thousand were heavily damaged and deemed unfit for redeployment within fifty days. Remarkably, ten thousand ships had returned almost entirely unscathed, yet this was not the result of heroic combat, but quite the opposite. They had become mere spectators, never engaging the enemy or even firing a single shot, left only to witness the disastrous defeat of their allies in stunned silence. Ariabert had perfectly neutralised the enemy’s numerical advantage.

The soldiers, disembarking from their ships, spoke to one another with hollow voices.

“Can you believe it? The enemy had twenty thousand; we had forty thousand. How on earth did we end up in such disgrace?”

“The thousand enemy ships weren’t even destroyed. I now certainly understand the meaning of the expression ‘one-sided’.”

“Where was Duke Idris, anyway? Where was our Commander-in-Chief?”

“At Uraniborg. They say he was holed up in the command centre the whole time.”

“He didn’t even deploy!? Then who was leading us on the front lines? It would have made more sense if His Clanner Highness was in the command centre, and Duke Idris was out there leading with the Black Prince.”

“This was a case of letting a treasure waste. We at the bottom can’t understand what the higher-ups are thinking.”

The gazes of the soldiers, some with arms in slings and others with bandages wrapped around their heads, were fixed upon a corner of the harbour. There, a pitch-black space battleship lay moored. Its form was grand and perfectly composed, its massive hull so immense it created the illusion of occupying half the harbour facilities, and its darkness seemed to swallow all colours. Yet, despite its overwhelming majesty, it never finally revealed its true splendour upon the battlefield.

It was only after the fighting had ended that the leaders of the enemies of Uraniborg felt the onset of exhaustion. Ariabert and Jouslain had sheathed the spears of victory, accepting the Clanner’s recommendation for a ceasefire.

This decision would lead a historian, a hundred years later, to remark:

“Both Ariabert and Jouslain were capable and extraordinary, yet they did not measure up to Nuri.” (Lian Hoon Dao)

A single destroyer set out from Uraniborg towards the battleship Austra. The Clanner’s envoy was supposed to be aboard. Standing shoulder to shoulder as they watched the screen, Ariabert and Jouslain exchanged low whispers.

“His Clanner Highness did not mention the name of the envoy. Was that intentional?”

“It was intentional. He likely intends to take us by surprise in some way.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea who it might be. Perhaps Count Elman?”

“Something like that.”

They waited for a while, sipping on the tea Francia had brewed for them. Just as they were about to finish their cups, the communications officer contacted them, announcing the identity of the Clanner’s envoy.

“It is the younger brother of Duke Idris.”

“Radmoth!?”

Ariabert was stunned. He had not expected Idris himself to arrive, but he certainly had not expected that such a violent young man, a person entirely unacquainted with the concept of diplomacy, would be sent as an envoy. Did the Clanner truly intend to nullify the ceasefire?

“That is not the case.”

“Not the case? So, it is not Radmoth?”

“No.”

“Then who is it?”

When Jouslain questioned him sharply, the communications officer faltered, even though the matter was beyond his control.

“I… I was told it was Baronet Zelpha Tytania.”

“… Ah, indeed he is Idris’ youngest brother. But was he not only twelve or thirteen years old?”

“He will be arriving shortly.”

At that moment, Jouslain was seized by an ominous premonition. The thought even crossed his mind to refuse the special envoy entry to the ship and send him away. However, he could find no justification for such a blatant breach of protocol.

The two ships moored alongside one another, and the cylindrical passageways docked and opened. Zelpha stepped into the interior of the Austra.

Zelpha came to a halt. Turning slowly to scan the crew, the young nobleman spoke with a dignified severity.

“Bear in mind that any discourteous behaviour towards His Clanner Highness’ envoy shall tarnish your master’s reputation in the eyes of the world. Do you understand?”

The crew, weapons at the ready, stood frozen in stunned silence.

“Escort me to Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain. Should there be any further insolence towards me, I shall deem it an act of disrespect toward His Clanner Highness himself!”

In a panic, the soldiers lowered their laser rifles and railguns. An officer stepped forward after an affected cough and addressed him with as much utmost reverence as he could muster.

“Your Lordship Baronet, we shall escort you, but we must insist on a physical inspection first.”

“A physical inspection? That is something a coward would demand.”

“You are free to refuse, but would that not mean failing in your great responsibility?”

“I understand. Very well, you have my permission. Proceed.”

Zelpha cast a contemptuous glance at the soldiers before straightening his spine once more and standing still.

“Pardon us.”

Overwhelmed by the young boy, the soldiers exchanged a few words amongst themselves, feeling a sense of irritation. A female soldier whispered, with the easy confidence of a victor:

“Ten years… no, I look forward to what he looks like in five years.”

Though he could not have possibly heard her, Zelpha cast a glance towards the female soldiers while undergoing the inspection, causing them to narrowly stifle their squeals. Perhaps it was the aftereffect of having survived a battle against twice their number. The inspection itself was conducted with great care, and it did not cause Zelpha any discomfort.

Before long, Zelpha proceeded alone into the depths of the corridor, leaving five or six attendants behind. Ariabert and Jouslain were waiting in the Audience Chamber.

“I am Baronet Zelpha Tytania, envoy sent by His Clanner Highness Ajman.”

Zelpha’s voice was still close to a boy soprano. The sight of a boy on the verge of voice breaking, desperately trying to maintain his dignity while looking up as if to glare at the two older men, invited a smile.

Zelpha raised his voice, as if refusing to be looked down upon.

“I have stated that I am His Clanner Highness’ envoy. Why, then, do you both not kneel in response?”

“Honoured Envoy, while you have a point, the two of us have already been stripped of our status as Tytanians,” replied calmly Ariabert.

A flush of crimson crept into Zelpha’s smooth cheeks.

“That point was explicitly stated in this imperial decree. If both Ariabert and Jouslain are upholding the etiquette expected of Tytanian nobility… then is it not only natural that an envoy acting as His Clanner Highness’ proxy should be afforded the same level of respect as His Clanner Highness himself until his mission is concluded? Am I wrong!?”

Ariabert and Jouslain acknowledged the logic. After exchanging glances, they dropped onto one knee in silence. Zelpha nodded, looking satisfied.

“You both may rise.”

With solemn expressions, the two young dukes stood up. Since it had come to this, there was no choice but to go along with the boy.

“I shall now deliver His Clanner Highness’ decree.” The boy read aloud, opening the archaic silk scroll he had brought with him. “All penalties imposed upon both Ariabert and Jouslain are hereby annulled. Both shall have their duchies restored and are permitted to rejoin the Clan Supreme Council… Henceforth, within the Tytania leadership, both Ariabert and Jouslain shall be delegated the authority of His Clanner Highness Ajman. That is to say, Ariabert shall be bestowed the title of Fleet Admiral of the Vardana Empire and shall assume command over both the Tytania forces and the Vardana Empire forces. Jouslain shall be granted the title of Prime Minister of the Vardana Empire, and shall hold full discretion over all domestic and foreign affairs, without requiring prior imperial permission. How do both of you respond?”

Ariabert and Jouslain suppressed their astonishment, attempting to mask their expressions as much as possible. After a short pause, Jouslain spoke:

“We are honoured by these words, but to speak frankly, this result far exceeds our expectations. It is difficult to believe that Duke Idris would accept such unilateral terms.”

“… As for Idris, I shall speak of him presently.”

Zelpha’s voice trembled, and a flame of anger ignited in both of his eyes. For a fleeting moment, he forgot his position as an envoy, and his resentment towards his brother became plain to see. However, Zelpha composed himself and resumed reading the imperial decree.

“Idris shall bear the primary responsibility for this recent civil war. His rank shall be demoted one grade to marquis, and he is ordered to an indefinite posting to the Tyron planetary mission.”

IV

Unconditional surrender. Those words surfaced in the hearts of Ariabert and Jouslain simultaneously. The eyes of the boy standing there, seemingly struggling to suppress his tremors, were brimming with tears, which involuntarily evoked a sense of sympathy.

“… Had it been the second-generation Clanner, Nuri, he would have shown no mercy. He would have demanded Idris’ execution. Still, for a Clanner, he has made quite a concession.”

Jouslain had no intention of following Nuri’s example. Idris would likely spend the rest of his life as a mere figurehead marquis within the Tyron estate. It was possible that Clanner Ajman was keeping Idris alive only to trip up Ariabert or Jouslain in the future.

But even so…

Just as Jouslain gazed into the depths of his own heart and nearly grasped the tail of something festering within the darkness, he heard Zelpha’s voice:

“Lord Ariabert, if you would be so kind, let us shake hands in reconciliation.”

“With pleasure.”

Ariabert was moved by the boy’s earnestness. Holding the imperial decree, which Zelpha had returned to its original form after reading, in his left hand, he extended his right.

The hands met in a handshake. At that moment, Zelpha, along with the scroll, collided with Ariabert’s tall frame.

When the heat ray pierced through Ariabert’s chest to his back, not a single drop of blood escaped. Because the temperature of the heat ray was so high, the wound was cauterised instantly, preventing any outward bleeding.

However, massive internal haemorrhaging occurred. Scorching blood overflowed from his injured organs and seared blood vessels, surging in search of an exit. A crimson torrent erupted from Ariabert’s shapely nose and mouth, searing the mucous membranes of his throat in the process.

Yet, his intense agony did not last long. Casting a gaze filled with the stillness of death upon the boy, Ariabert closed both eyes, dropped to both knees upon the floor, and slowly fell upon his side.

“Witness the end of the traitor Ariabert, who persisted in his defiance against His Clanner Highness!”

Zelpha’s cry reverberated through the room like an intense death knell. In an instant, everything froze, and in an instant, it thawed.

Jouslain reached out with tremendous force, grabbed Zelpha’s wrist, and twisted it without mercy or restraint. A scream of agony escaped Zelpha’s lips.

Jouslain then drove his knee into the back of Zelpha’s knee, forcing the latter to buckle. While nearly crushing Zelpha, Jouslain cried out:

“Ariabert…!”

The young nobleman, though called by name, attempted to struggle amidst the heavy bloodshed, but his strength had already been lost. Captain Edna Fredericks, heedless of the eyes of others, knelt upon the floor and cradled his head, her face deathly pale.

“… My brother.”

Ariabert, his vocal cords scorched by boiling blood, could not have possibly produced a sound. Even so, Jouslain distinctly heard his voice. Jouslain violently shoved the too-young assassin aside and approached Ariabert with unsteady steps.

“Don’t die, Ariabert… Brother…”

Jouslain’s voice trembled violently. The young nobleman, who had often been praised for a coolness and detached rationality unbefitting his age, knelt on both knees beside the man who was his comrade, his cousin, and his half-brother, attempting to lift his upper body with trembling hands. He felt no vital sign whatsoever.

Balamy had the soldiers pin Zelpha down and examined the imperial scroll. When Balamy announced that the shaft was a heatgun of a unique shape made of carbon fibre, Jouslain interrogated the assassin with a voice that sounded like the dead:

“I trust you are prepared to atone for your crimes?”

To no one’s ears did that sound like anything other than a death sentence. Held down by the soldiers, Zelpha gasped.

“I have committed no crime. I merely executed a traitor.”

“It seems Idris’ teachings have taken root well.”

Jouslain’s gaze was so piercing that even an adult would have struggled to meet it. It felt as though a torrent of hellfire were being spewed forth from the gates of the underworld.

“Lord Jouslain! He is but a child!”

Francia leaned against Jouslain’s right arm. Jouslain did not attempt to shake her off, but instead stood before Zelpha as if half-dragging her along. With a voice as fiery as his gaze, he interrogated him:

“Do you feel no regret?”

“Regret?”

Zelpha attempted to laugh with everything he had.

“Ah, I do regret one thing. I should have shot Jouslain first.”

Balamy was rendered speechless by such sheer audacity. He thought that this boy might even surpass Idris. Jouslain smiled too, but it was a smile the likes of which Francia had never seen before.

“You mustn’t, Lord Jouslain, you mustn’t!”

Francia clung to Jouslain’s right arm with all her strength. She did not want the master whom she so dearly loved to become a child killer.

“Long live Idris, the next Clanner of Tytania!” shouted Zelpha.

It was a cry of pride, yet one that simultaneously incited murderous intent. Though Zelpha had not consciously intended it, the cry was little more than a declaration of an execution sentence against Idris.

“Are you that proud of having killed someone? Cut it out!” rebuked Balamy, while bitterly recalling his own past self.

Zelpha threw a defiant glare back at Balamy.

“If one is not of Tytania, one is not a human!”

There was no saving him. As Balamy became certain of the boy’s death, Jouslain groaned:

“Baronet, your actions, whose idea were them? Was it Idris?”

“No.”

“Then was it the Clanner?”

“It was my own idea.”

Jouslain shook his head with a sneer.

“Lord Jouslain.”

“Francia, make no mistake. I am of Tytania. I am neither a good person nor an ally of justice.”

Jouslain’s eyes were bloodshot. His capillaries had burst from the sheer intensity of his passion. As her master almost abandoned reason and intellect, Francia placed her hands upon his arm and supported him with all her might.

A strange, misplaced joy stirred within Francia’s heart. She could not help but feel a sense of guilt in the face of Ariabert’s misfortune, but at that moment, she certainly felt a sense of responsibility to support Jouslain, and she found joy in that feeling.

“Lord Jouslain, the screen…”

At Francia’s whisper, Jouslain turned an unusual gaze toward the screen. Having begun to operate without any warning, the screen showed static for two or three seconds before revealing the figure of the person responsible for sending the assassin.

Ajman did not utter a single word regarding the gruesome scene that had surely been imprinted upon his eyes.

“With this, things have become fair.”

From the abyss of nothingness, a wind imbued with magical power blew directly toward Jouslain.

“You shall compete one-on-one against Lord Idris for the position of Clanner. I shall find great pleasure in seeing which of you triumphs and how.”

“Ariabert…”

“Lord Ariabert’s existence was redundant. He held significant importance as Lord Zarlisch’s worthy rival. However, with the death of Lord Zarlisch, a purely military confrontation of equal standing can no longer be expected.”

Jouslain took a step towards the screen.

“Ariabert was the one who should have been the next Clanner. Ariabert was…”

“You may have a million words to mourn the loss of Lord Ariabert, but did you have even a single word for Lord Zarlisch? Even if your mothers were different, I suppose that is simply how brothers are.”

“…”

“However, in any case, there can only be one supreme seat. My plan was to force you and Ariabert to kill one another, but you should consider it my small act of mercy that I did not proceed with it. If your opponent is Idris, your heart won’t ache even if you kill him. The same would apply to Idris; indeed, he would likely scheme with great joy to see you slain.”

Hearing his brother’s name spoken so coldly, Zelpha stared at the screen in a daze.

“Clanner!” cried out Jouslain.

An invisible clot of blood was spat from his throat along with his voice. He would no longer use the respectful title “Your Highness”. The arrogant figure occupying the screen before his eyes was nothing more than a monster who had murdered his brother and preyed upon human life, both in body and soul.

“No matter how much you play with sophistry, you murdered Ariabert. You even used a child as a tool! Did you truly think I would submissively act according to your designs!?”

V

“I had hoped you would not disappoint me, Lord Jouslain. I believed I had granted you something advantageous. I remained silent, thinking it would be unrefined to speak of it, but since you lack the insight to see it, then I have no choice. I shall simply give up on you.”

“Advantageous…?”

“Where is this child that you claim I have turned into a tool? You still have a hostage against Idris held in your custody, do you not?”

Jouslain turned his gaze towards Zelpha, feeling as though he had been struck across the face; he could no longer remember how many times this had happened.

Pinned to the floor with a gun barrel pressed against him, Zelpha glared back at Jouslain. His entire body trembled finely, and his breathing was heavy. It was a display of bravado. Yet, this boy was maintaining that bravado at the cost of his entire life and honour. He did so while being halfway crushed by the harsh conditions demanded of a Tytania noble.

Wiping the expression from his face, Jouslain approached and ordered the soldiers to force Zelpha, who refused to stop struggling, to stand up.

“Did you hear that, Baronet? It appears that after you have fulfilled your duty as an assassin, you must also serve as a hostage.”

“I will never become a hostage! If it has to come to that, I’ll bite my tongue and die!”

The moment those words left his lips, Jouslain’s hands moved. He gripped Zelpha’s slender chin with his left hand. The fingers of his right hand thrust into the boy’s mouth, seizing his tongue. Zelpha choked, unable even to attempt a cough, as tears of pain and resentment flowed from both eyes.

“If you want to die by biting your tongue, then go ahead. I’ll even help you.”

“Ah… ah… cough…”

“What will it be? Will you die?”

At that moment, Jouslain looked like neither a young nobleman nor a gentleman. Amidst the staff officers who stood frozen, breathless and silenced, the avenger seemed to have surrendered himself entirely to his own ferocity; however, upon glancing at Francia, who remained clinging to his right arm, he suddenly released his grip and shoved Zelpha away.

“This child acts far more grown-up than he really is. Keep him under guard.”

The soldiers nodded gloomily while keeping Zelpha pinned down.

“Do not let him die, no matter what.”

Jouslain looked towards Ariabert. Captain Edna Fredericks remained on both knees upon the floor, her hands silently stroking Ariabert’s hair as his head rested upon them.

“If he dies now, he will pass away with the satisfaction of having slain an enemy general for his brother’s sake. I will not allow Ariabert’s foe to taste such happiness!”

Jouslain steadied his breathing once, then twice. He lightly tapped the back of Francia’s hand, which was resting on his arm, before speaking. To the woman Ariabert had likely spent his final night with.

“Captain Fredericks, I am sorry, but…”

“Yes.”

As Edna attempted to stand, lowering Ariabert’s head from her lap, Jouslain raised his hand to restrain her.

“Leave him as he is. I am sorry, but please assign two or three soldiers to confine this boy somewhere.”

“Understood… Sergeant!”

Just as Zelpha was about to be led away,

“Wait!”

Princess Lydia rushed forward. She bowed her head towards Ariabert, closed his eyes, and pressed his hands together in the ancient custom before turning back towards Zelpha.

“Lord Ariabert was a good man.”

“…”

“Did you never wish you could be an adult like him?”

“…”

“Did you truly allow him to die of your own will?”

Unable to endure Princess Lydia’s direct gaze, Zelpha averted his eyes. He had intended to respond with logic and reason, but the words that escaped his lips were far from it.

“Hmph, how could a child possibly understand?”

“I can understand.”

A strong, sharp voice made Zelpha flinch. The owner of that voice was a fellow clansman whom he had met many times at ceremonies and parties, Viscount Balamy Tytania.

Balamy realised it. He had respected Ariabert, at least as a commander. He had desired to become a commander who possessed both the skill in military deployment and the personal leadership that Ariabert held.

Balamy was nine years younger than Ariabert and Jouslain. While that age gap seemed large, from the perspective of the generational succession of the Clanner throne, it was actually far too small. If Ariabert or Jouslain had ascended to the Clanner throne, their era would have continued for twenty or thirty years, leaving no place for Balamy to emerge. However, Balamy could not bring himself to feel glad that this had not happened.

“With this, both the peace negotiations and the imperial decree have vanished, right?”

Balamy deliberately changed the subject.

“We still have nineteen thousand vessels remaining. The enemy likely possesses twenty-four or twenty-five thousand. Even if hostilities resume, there is no reason to fear.”

“If Ariabert were still here, that is.”

“… I…”

“The Clanner will announce Ariabert’s death. Once that happens, I wonder how many of those nineteen thousand will actually remain.”

Jouslain’s expression and tone were not so much sombre than somewhat resigned. It was the first time Balamy had ever seen Jouslain like this. Jouslain’s strategy, both political and military, had relied entirely upon the presence of Ariabert.

With Ariabert dead and Jouslain currently struggling to regain his composure, who was it that commanded the great army of nearly twenty thousand that had arrived at an expedition from Bargash? Was it not Balamy, the only one left holding a Tytania title? Realising this, Balamy was struck with horror.

“Lord Balamy, please escort Princess Lydia.”

“Yes.”

As Balamy departed with the Princess and the soldiers, Jouslain spoke to the lady-in-waiting who remained alone.

“Do not worry, Francia. I am not yet finished. It is simply that I have lost both my past and my future at once.”

“You must still have a future, Lord Jouslain.”

“I do not. There is no such thing.”

“Lord Jouslain, the future that was lost belongs to Tytania. It does not belong to you.”

Francia’s voice grew fervent. Jouslain merely responded with a feeble smile. It was the first time Francia had ever seen her master so utterly defeated and at a loss.

The sound of footsteps approached. When Francia looked up, she saw Captain Edna Fredericks, the commander of the battleship Austra, which had become the site of this historic tragedy. There was a large, dark stain upon her uniform. Ariabert’s blood.

“Your Grace, should you have any instructions, I stand ready to receive them.”

“Prepare Ariabert’s funeral.”

“Yes.”

“Make it something worthy of him: simple, yet dignified and elegant.”

“As you wish.”

“Captain Fredericks, we shall speak again sometime… though not now, for either of us.”

Edna saluted in silence and departed. Francia tightened her grip on her arm.

“After the funeral, are you to fight Lord Idris again?”

“Idris?”

Jouslain gave a silent laugh.

“I am afraid he is of no consequence. The Clanner… Ajman, is telling le to try my hand at challenging him.”

Francia gasped, grasping Jouslain’s right hand with both of hers. A horrific terror, beyond anything she could have imagined, enveloped her entire being. To fight the Clanner! A living god to the Tytanians…

“I was naive. I was a fool. If only I had realised just one day sooner, I could have prevented Ariabert’s death… Ajman had been hiding himself in the darkness, pulling the strings of a puppet named Idris. If only I had been able to see through those puppet strings…”

“But, Lord Jouslain, why would the Clanner do such a thing?”

Before long, even Francia had forgotten to use the respectful title of “Highness”.

“I do not know… I do not know yet. I am no match for Ajman. I may never be… But I refuse to dance one-sidedly upon the palm of his hand.”

Jouslain looked at Francia. Although his passion had not yet subsided, his self-control and stability seemed to be returning. With a sense of relief, Francia voiced her own thought.

“Is it not because the Clanner is attempting to eliminate anyone in his way so that he may pass the throne to his own child?”

“For Theophilus? I believe he is seven years old.”

“Yes. It takes fifteen years to reach adulthood, a duration everyone finds acceptable.”

“Hum…”

Francia’s words were sensible and persuasive. It was true; history was full of countless examples of dictators massacring other clans in order to secure their own child as heir.

However, for some reason, Jouslain remained unconvinced. Was Ajman truly such a conventional man? Or rather, was he the kind of man who would orchestrate such a catastrophe for such a small, commonplace purpose?

Furthermore, there was Idris. He had been forced to fight Ariabert, only to be patronisingly rescued just as he was on the verge of defeat, and his devoted younger brother had been used as an assassin and was now amidst the enemy. Even so, would Idris remain a mere subordinate to Clanner Ajman?

Jouslain gripped Francia’s hand without even realising it. Francia squeezed back with all her strength.

Emptiness and rage took turns to seize Jouslain. Each time, the blood flowing through his veins froze cold, only to boil with heat once more. Having lost the other half of his soul, to whom he had entrusted the future of his clan, and tormented by an unfathomable sense of helplessness unlike any he had ever known, Duke Jouslain Tytania still had no choice but to press on along the path he had chosen himself.

Translator's Notes and References

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