On the sofa facing him, a woman holding a wineglass in one hand opened her mouth.
“It appears the crack between Kaiser Reinhard and von Reuentahl has been repaired. Not only did he not purge him, he’s installed him as governor over the entire territory of the former Free Planets Alliance! I suppose your maneuvering has had far too much the opposite effect?”
“It certainly does look like it’s been repaired. At least that’s what Minister of Military Affairs von Oberstein will think. But the rift is merely hidden—it most certainly hasn’t vanished.”
“And you’re going to make it wider, aren’t you?”
The woman who had scornfully tossed that remark like a fishing net at him was Rubinski’s lover, the former singer Dominique Saint-Pierre. Rubinsky continued, his powerfully built body absorbing the radiated waves of scorn. “One other thing: the kaiser’s weakness is that beautiful sister of his. If anything were to happen to the Archduchess von Grünewald, the kaiser would go into a frenzy. The hero…the great monarch would vanish, leaving only a brat full with raging emotion.”
“And you believe he’d be easier to control if that happened?”
“At least more so than before the frenzy.” The expression with which Rubinsky responded wasn’t so much cool and composed as it was devoid of emotion altogether. He raised his whiskey glass to his lips.
“But will the hit be successful, I wonder?”
“It doesn’t have to be. Even if it’s just attempted, the simple fact that such an act of violence was planned against her will have all the effect I need. Even the golden brat will finally realize that his life isn’t only about advancement and ascendance. As his power expands, it’s also becoming hollow. He’s standing atop an inflating balloon.”
Adrian Rubinsky proceeded to take a drink of liquefied conspiracy from his whiskey glass. As it absorbed into his stomach lining, becoming energy for him, he looked like some inhuman beast.
“If assassins are after his sister, Kaiser Reinhard will set aside his ‘Neue Land’ and go back to Odin to see her. When that happens, an opening will appear between the kaiser and Imperial Marshal von Reuentahl. I wonder—in the kaiser’s absence, will he be able to resist the temptation to become a fallen angel?”
“You’re going to be egging him on in any case.” Dominique gave him the same sort of response she had given moments before. Using a mocking tone with Rubinsky, it seemed, was becoming second nature to her. “After all, before you even start to speak of necessity, you’re enjoying spreading oil around wherever there’s the slightest flame. Is it possible that even the great fire of Planet Heinessen was something you set in motion?”
“I’m pleased that you think so highly of me, but that was a coincidence. Spread the fire too much and in too many places, and you’ll get burned to death yourself before you can put it out. However, that only goes for fires that have started already. These things I like to use efficiently whenever possible.”
“You’re a genius when it comes to using old junk.”
The Galactic Empire’s young emperor, Erwin Josef II, Count Alfred von Lansberg, and former Imperial Navy Captain Leopold Schumacher…those and countless other proper names were packed inside Rubinsky’s toolbox. They included names of leaders in the Church of Terra, and former sovereigns of Phezzan’s underbelly, as well.
“Still, I wonder if the Terraist movement has really died out…” said Dominique.
“So I was thinking…” Rubinsky began.
Because he did not continue right away, Dominique wanted to think that meant something, but when Rubinsky’s response finally surfaced, it was with a splash from a completely unexpected direction. The Black Fox of Phezzan stroked his lover’s eardrums with a voice that lacked all emotion.
“How about it, Dominique? Want to have a baby with me?”
The moment of silence that followed carried a stench like that of old cheese.
“Just so he’ll be killed by you? No thanks.”
Even if that remark had cut like an invisible knife slashing him across the chest, it didn’t show in Rubinsky’s expression. Once, he had killed a young man, Rupert Kesselring, who had tried to steal his power. That young man had been Rubinsky’s son, and Dominique had been the partner in crime who had helped the father kill the son.
The eyes of Phezzan’s former landesherr were like bogs in the dry season as he watched his lover leaving the room. Trailing behind her was the fragrance of a perfume called bitterness.
“That isn’t it, Dominique,” he said. “It’s to have him kill me.”
Those words, however, were spoken too softly to reach Dominique’s back.
VII
In a corner of the Winter Rose Garden, Reinhard von Lohengramm was sitting down in the grass, looking on at the winter roses’ deaths as they went down to defeat before the invasion of a haughty spring. Fahrenheit and Wittenfeld were already en route to Iserlohn with their fleets, while Mittermeier, von Reuentahl, Müller, and von Eisenach were making flawless preparations to move forward and join in this great campaign. They were going to pass through the Phezzan Corridor, cut across the domain of the old FPA, charge into the Iserlohn Corridor, and finally return to imperial space. In terms of planning and execution, it was a magnificently grand operation that no one save Reinhard could have made happen.
“Perhaps I’ve been cursed from birth,” the kaiser said, his low voice striking drooping petals.
Standing alone by his master, Emil von Selle radiated waves of surprise into space.
“I prefer war above. I can no longer have color in my life except through bloodshed. Even though some other way might have been possible.”
On behalf of his master, Emil fervently answered, “But isn’t that because Your Majesty wishes for unity throughout the universe? If there is unity, peace will naturally follow. And if you get bored with that, can’t you just go to another galaxy altogether?”
He was right. Unity would beget peace. But what would come after that? The glow of vitality that Reinhard gave off shone so brilliantly because there were enemies there to catch its light. Should he do as this boy wildly imagined, and head off to another galaxy?
Reinhard stretched out and stroked the young boy’s hair with a hand so well-formed that only an artist could have imagined it.
“You’re a kind lad. You think often of me. I want…I want to make those who think of me happy, but…”
As it was self-evident that he was talking to himself, Emil shyly looked on, not speaking, at the kaiser’s impossibly beautiful profile as it smoldered in a fog of sorrow. Reinhard could no longer believe, as he had in former days, that his affection and passion guaranteed the happiness of those off of whom it was reflected. He sometimes even wondered if he had in effect become a god of doom and misfortune to those he loved the most. Still, he had never forgotten the vow he had made long ago, nor had he ever thought of being remiss in his duty to see that vow through to the end.
Heading into March, steadily increasing numbers of civilian vessels and warships of the former FPA Armed Forces continued to arrive from the direction of Heinessen, having slipped through the fingers of imperial patrols before pouring into the Liberation Corridor. As the footsteps of April drew near, the information they brought showed the degree of danger spiking sharply.
Kaiser Reinhard declared he would wipe out the Yang faction, and ordered senior admirals Wittenfeld and Fahrenheit to spearhead the assault. Planet Heinessen was already in the process of transforming into the Galactic Empire’s largest military base. Suddenly, the time was growing ripe for war.
Guessing at Reinhard’s grand intent, Yang had peeled out of his winter garment of indolence, turned out the pockets of all of his brain cells, and set to the task of designing a plan for engaging him. In order to realize his plan in an advantageous fashion, he couldn’t afford to abandon the method of military resistance. His
subordinates, as well, were making preparations to obey their commander’s plan, and “show off and have fun” in earnest. Even the gigantic fortress of Iserlohn seem to have reached a state of saturation with all of the human energy filling its interior, and this “night before the festival” of life and death was one that Julian Mintz would remember in great detail later.
Frederica wiped away sweat from Yang’s cheeks as he stared motionlessly at the schematic of his operational plan. Like a knight about to joust, von Schönkopf was cleaning and oiling his armored suit. Poplin was naming his newly reorganized spartanian squadrons after various alcoholic beverages. Murai was solemnly organizing paperwork, Fischer was quietly inspecting the fleet, and Merkatz, with von Schneider in tow, was calming the mood among the soldiers and officers simply by being there. Attenborough was drawing up patterns of fleet movements, all the while never letting a notebook titled “A Memoir of the Revolutionary War” leave his hands. Finally, there was the flushed face of Katerose “Karin” von Kreutzel, facing her first combat mission.
Even though they knew the kinds of farewells and the measure of bloodshed awaiting them, the Iserlohn Corridor was, to the Yang Fleet, a festival pavilion. That being the case, why not enjoy it to the fullest, with all the good cheer and bustle that they alone were capable of?
It was March of SE 800 and NIC 2. Reinhard von Lohengramm and Yang Wen-li were about to exchange fire in person for the first time since the Vermillion War, over control of the Liberation Corridor standing from Iserlohn Fortress to the El Facil system. They could not yet guess, however, that this clash would bring about the greatest shock yet for both of them.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Yoshiki Tanaka was born in 1952 in Kumamoto Prefecture and completed a doctorate in literature at Gakushuin University. Tanaka won the Gen’eijo (a mystery magazine) New Writer Award with his debut story “Midori no Sogen ni…” (On the green field…) in 1978, then started his career as a science fiction and fantasy writer. Legend of the Galactic Heroes, which translates the European wars of the nineteenth century to an interstellar setting, won the Seiun Award for best science fiction novel in 1987. Tanaka’s other works include the fantasy series The Heroic Legend of Arslan and many other science fiction, fantasy, historical, and mystery novels and stories.
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