Kaiser Reinhard hated the man as well, and had banned him from holding public office. Trünicht, however, having not yet abandoned earthly desires, had wasted no time in using his abundant capital and unprincipled energy to begin pulling strings in the bureaucracy.
In the back seat of a landcar bound for his own headquarters, Kessler’s foul mood continued to take on water. As both commissioner of military police and commander of capital defenses, he had bid his colleagues farewell, and stayed behind on Odin alone. This had been because of the kaiser’s orders and Kessler’s own clerical skills, which had allowed him to meet those expectations; he had not stayed out of any personal wish of his own. If he had not been so capable when it came to defusing crises or so skilled at managing large organizations, he likely would have avoided crawling around on the ground like this and looking up at the starry sky in dissatisfaction. Kessler did not envy his colleagues’ military successes, although he couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous about where they had gone. They were heroes, leading fleets numbering in the tens of thousands of vessels and crossing vast seas of blackness filled with swarms of stars. Originally, Ulrich Kessler had been inclined in that direction as well, and had of his own accord chosen for himself the life of an imperial military official.
Nevertheless, the real Ulrich Kessler was tens of thousands of light-years away from that cluster of stars that needed conquering, having to guard a palace that no longer had a master, and entertain the likes of Job Trünicht. If peace and unification were achieved before he headed off to the battlefield, Kessler would celebrate his lord’s triumph, but at the same time he’d likely be unable to help feeling tiny, sand-like grains of dissatisfaction.
Around the time that Kessler arrived at headquarters, Wahlen was also on his way home. One month later, these three men would all be separated from each other by distances measured in the thousands of light-years.
V
It was the first of March. The vanguard warmth of the coming spring, inconstant in its cowardice during daylight hours, was wiped out altogether by a chill evening wind, which draped a thick, cold, transparent mantle over a part of Planet Heinessen. At ten o’clock that evening, young Emil von Selle, the kaiser’s chamberlain, was told by his master to go on to bed, as he had no further errands for him that night. Emil returned to his room, which was just across the hallway, and changed into his pajamas. He cracked open a window that was fogged a milky white, and the fragrance of winter roses invaded his nostrils, along with a draft of air cold enough to make him shiver. The boy sneezed softly. The sound seemed to echo in the stillness of the night, and soldiers patrolling the spacious garden cast suspicious glances his way. Emil shut the window, stretched once as was his bedtime custom, and was just about to jump onto the mattress. It really did happen at that precise instant. A window-shaped mass of white light gouged its way into the middle of his room. Just as its color seemed to change to orange, an immense wall of sound slammed into Emil. As it dawned on him that something had just exploded, the young boy leapt from his bed.
Sounds of explosions followed one upon another, invading Emil von Selle’s auditory canals. He covered his ears unconsciously, only to be tormented by echoes. He tried to run into the kaiser’s bedchamber, but instead found Reinhard already standing in front of the door in his nightgown. As imperial guards formed pillars and walls all around him, his golden hair caught undulations of orange light, and glistened.
“Kisling, what’s going on?”
The, catlike—or rather, pantherlike—chief of the imperial guards looked at Reinhard and said, “We’re investigating now. In any case, Your Majesty, please hurry. I’ll escort you to a safe place.”
The kaiser nodded. “Emil, help me get changed. If the kaiser were to flee in his nightgown, the rebels would have a new story to laugh about.”
Kisling wanted to tell him that this was neither the time nor place for such concerns, but for Emil, any word emanating from the kaiser’s mouth was an order. Without hesitation, he followed the kaiser into his room, and assisted the young conqueror in changing into his black and silver uniform. Ignoring the light and shadow and capriccio of explosions unfolding outside the window, Reinhard finished changing, then smiled at the sight of Emil still in his pajamas. He threw his own nightgown around the faithful young chamberlain.
Guided by Kisling, who tried hard not to let his boots so much as squeak with his footfalls, the three of them went outside into the Winter Rose Garden. Already, various officers were gathering here with their troops. Amid wildly dancing stripes of black and orange, the officers advised the kaiser to conceal himself for fear of sniper fire. Taking no notice, however, Reinhard boldly and confidently kept his beautiful, golden-haired head held high. Wrapped in a nightgown too large for him, Emil looked up at him with worshipful eyes.
By the time that the first light of dawn flashed its unsheathed blade across the horizon, the fire had subsided. An investigation into the blaze’s cause was commenced first thing that morning. It was, of course, conducted alongside the distribution of money and supplies to those caught up in the disaster, and the cause itself was determined in no time. A Seffl particle generator that the old alliance military had sold off to civilians for mining development had been mistakenly activated while connected to a power source, and some small factory that had been operating late into the night had set off those fireworks.
Ultimately, an accident was to blame for that great fire, which was the illegitimate child of an irresponsible system that had formed during the interval between the alliance government’s fall and the establishment of the empire’s authority. Almost all of the people of that time viewed it as arson, though. Caught up in the circumstances of that period, it was only natural to view it so. The imperial military wanted to believe that holdouts from the Alliance Armed Forces had started the fire as an act of terrorism, intending to take advantage of the confusion, but in fact there had been no organized uprising. Riots had broken out here and there as people tried to take advantage of the confusion, but each and every one of them had been snuffed out in the early stages. This had been accomplished not only by the levelheaded leadership of Mittermeier and Müller, but also by the good influence of the emergency management manual, wherein von Reuentahl had given thorough consideration to every eventuality. This had allowed imperial forces to mobilize efficiently, seize critical positions, and not get flustered.
“Anyway, we need a criminal to hold responsible for this. Until someone is arrested, the population won’t be at ease.”
The area lost to the blaze exceeded eighteen million square meters, and the dead and missing numbered over 5,500. Half that number consisted of newly stationed imperial troops unfamiliar with the lay of the land. In addition, many historic buildings had been reduced to ashes, and because the imperial forces had cared nothing for them, there had even been plausible-sounding rumors that the triumphant imperial military had tried to purge them of their hidebound ways with fire. The group that Admiral Brentano, vice commissioner of military police, plucked from among several “criminal candidates” was a group of holdouts from the Patriotic Knights, a domestic pro-war group that had run rampant during the waning days of the former FPA.
The imperial military had indeed considered the danger that cracking down on the Patriotic Knights might turn them into a symbol of heroic resistance against the empire, but by the end of the investigation, it had been learned that from SE 796 to 799, a relationship involving funds and personnel had existed between the Patriotic Knights and the Church of Terra. From that point onward, the empire acknowledged no further need for restraint. A lot of people felt certain anyway that the Patriotic Knights had started the fire, regardless of the lack of evidence. There was also the fact that following the failed attempt on the kaiser’s life the previous summer, it was an unwritten rule in the imperial government and military that evidence was no longer needed to crack down on groups associated with Terra.
Twenty-four thousand and six hundred people who had relationships with the Patriotic Knights and the Church of Terra became temporarily subject to arrest, although the number actually arrested failed to reach twenty thousand. This was because 5,200 resisted and were shot dead, and another thousand fled and eluded capture. Weapons were impounded from many of their hideouts, providing evidence that ironically justified the crackdown in the end.
Bretano, as one who had been entrusted with public security, was in this manner able to save face, leaving the reconstruction of a city reduced to ashes as a critical task for the coming days.
On March 19, the imperial military’s top leaders gathered at the Winter Rose Garden’s temporary imperial headquarters. That was the day on which Imperial Marshal von Reuentahl’s punishment was to be announced by the kaiser. Von Reuentahl deserved a lot of the credit for having minimized the chaos accompanying the recent fire, and it was expected that his punishment would just be a slap on the wrist. The kaiser’s proclamation, however, covered its listeners’ hearts in frost for just an instant.
“Imperial Marshal von Reuentahl, I release you from your duties as secretary-general of Imperial Military Command Headquarters.”
A voiceless stir ascended rapidly, but just as it was about to cross the audible threshold, Reinhard’s voice, in continuation of his initial proclamation, dashed the attendees’ fears from every corner of the Winter Rose Garden.
“Instead, I order you to remain here on Heinessen as governor of our empire’s Neue Land, and manage all political and military matters in the territory of the former Free Planets Alliance. The rank and treatment of the Neue Land governor shall be equivalent to that of a ministry head, and he shall be responsible only to the kaiser.”
Von Reuentahl’s head was bowed respectfully, but blood was rising up into his graceful countenance. This was not some slap on the wrist; kneeling low before him now was glory whose like had existed only beyond the horizons of his imagination. He shifted the angle of his mismatched eyes slightly, and his best friend’s figure was reflected in his black and blue irises. Mittereier looked as joyful as if this honor had come to him.
Von Reuentahl was given the fleet he had commanded prior to becoming secretary-general of Imperial Military Command Headquarters, and the fleets of admirals von Knapfstein and Grillparzer were also placed under his command. As a result, he became the leader of a force of 35,800 vessels and 5,226,400 officers and soldiers. This was the second most powerful armed force in the Galactic Empire, second only to that of Kaiser Reinhard. In addition, his position of governor had been declared equal to that of a cabinet minister by the kaiser himself, meaning that as far as the organizational chart was concerned, von Reuentahl had reached equal footing with Imperial Marshal von Oberstein, the minister of military affairs. Of course, in terms of combat ability, he had greatly surpassed von Oberstein already.
Reinhard’s decision didn’t affect only von Reuentahl; organizational and HR changes that accompanied this appointment were also announced at this time.
“I will take personal charge of Imperial Military Command Headquarters. To assist me, there will be a staff commissioner. To this position, I name Senior Admiral Steinmetz. As the office of the Neue Land governor has now been established, Steinmetz, you may consider the mission for which you were stationed in the Gandharva system to be completed.”
In fact, Reinhard had initially prepared this seat for Hilda, but she had declined, instead deferring to the admiralty, as she had never commanded a single soldier before in her life.
“However, these appointments shall only take effect after you compel Yang Wen-li and his associates, presently sheltered in Iserlohn Fortress, to surrender.”
Reinhard’s voice, as though dusted with powdered gold, wrapped invisible threads around the civil and military court officials in attendance, filling them with a tension that was akin to a thrill running down their spines.
“Before his forces and other assets can make any rash moves, I will strike Yang Wen-li and his followers. To lend him time would not only make his force strength more powerful—it would also let it be declared of myself and the military I’m so proud of that fear of one individual’s clever designs made us neglect our duty to unify the universe. So I hereby declare: until I have made Yang Wen-li bow down before me, I will not return to Phezzan, let alone Odin…”
Reinhard’s voice had become a symphony without instruments that harmonized perfectly with the fighting spirit of the admirals. It was unclear who was the first to cry out, but both the fragrance and icy purity of the wintry air in the Winter Rose Garden was split apart and crushed beneath a hot cascade of passionate voices.
“Sieg Kaiser Reinhard!”
Reinhard announced furthermore that he was removing Senior Admiral Lutz from the front lines and appointing him commander of Phezzan’s security forces, as well as summoning Senior Admiral Wahlen from Odin to have him join in their ranks for the battle. Afterward, he returned for a while to the salon at his official residence.
After sitting down in the small but comfortable salon overlooking the Winter Rose Garden, Emil came bringing coffee. Reinhard had just set his coffee cup back down in its coaster when Hilda raised a completely unexpected matter.
“Your Majesty, what will you do about her?”
It seemed that for a moment, that pronoun had failed to jog Reinhard’s memory in regard to whom it was referring, so Hilda had to append the following:
“That woman from the Lichtenlade family who was at Imperial Marshal von Reuentahl’s private estate.”
“Ah, yes…”
As Reinhard nodded, apathy and confusion shimmered faintly in his eyes. The truth of the matter was that the woman named Elfriede von Kohlrausch had already vanished from Reinhard’s mind.
Still, just to answer the question, he said, “I’ve heard that she’s pregnant, but that should be no problem if she’s made to abort.”
“She’s already in her seventh month. An abortion at this point would be too dangerous for the mother.”
“Well, what do you think I should do?”
“By your leave, I’ll answer. Although I’m not truly confident that this is the best option, how about moving her from Imperial Marshal von Reuentahl’s estate to a medical facility elsewhere, and then putting the baby up for adoption after she’s given birth?”
“I wonder if we can’t just get her off Phezzan right away, and move her back to her original place of exile.”
Hilda was against that, however. She argued that they should take into account the deleterious effects of warp travel on an unborn baby at this point in gestation. If those effects were to result in a miscarriage or stillbirth, Hilda thought, yet another new seed of tragedy and hatred would have been sowed, though von Reuentahl himself likely had a different opinion.
After a moment, Reinhard said, “Understood, Fräulein. I’ll leave it to you.”
Just like that, Reinhard had delegated the matter to her. His mind had started off down a long road that passed through oceans of stars on the way to conquest; he had no wish to do something so needless as turn his eyes on the modest fate of a single woman. Hilda understood that very well. Reinhard was not without mercy. He had offered up his bountiful, immense sensitivity to the universe and to one other person. Had he been heartless, he would have ordered Elfriede’s death, and thereby snipped a thread that might one day become even more tangled. Naturally, there were those who viewed this as soft, however…
“Once you have defeated Yang Wen-li and completely unified the universe, you can return to Odin and meet your sister, can’t you?”
Hilda found herself regretting those words just before she finished speaking them. A hint of winter crept into the kaiser’s voice as he said, “Remember your place, Fräulein. That’s none of your concern.”
After a long moment, Hilda obediently apologized. “Yes, Your M
ajesty. Please forgive me.”
When she thought about it, Reinhard had by his own wish sent Hilda as a personal envoy to his sister at her mountain villa in Froiden. Surely he shouldn’t brush her off now, saying this had nothing to do with her.
Nevertheless, the whims of that boyish heart remained well within the limits of what Hilda would accept.
VI
Deep beneath the surface of Planet Phezzan was a single room completely shut off from the outside world. Those who had occupied that room for the past year were now secretly moving to the mountainous region of Okanagan, located about five hundred kilometers from the nearest city. Nestled deep in its evergreen forest was a stately mansion that no one else knew about. Fifty or so of those named on the Imperial Navy’s “unfriendlies” list were under the control of one man.
That man, Adrian Rubinsky, was in a salon furnished with a fireplace, in which two layers of curtains were pulled shut during the daytime. Back when Phezzan had called itself a domain and possessed sovereignty over its internal affairs, he had been its landesherr. When Reinhard had so boldly occupied the planet, he had been driven from his seat of power, and had gone literally underground just before he would have otherwise fallen into the hands of the Imperial Navy. If current governor and imperial puppet Boltec were to learn of this, he would no doubt lick his lips and have his former master served up on the plate of judgment. For a little bit longer, Rubinsky would have to endure being a forest hermit.
Legend of the Galactic Heroes, Volume 7 Page 27
