Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3

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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.

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