Princess of the Empire (JNC Edition)

by Hiroyuki Morioka

  She too had turned stubborn. She refused to budge until she was either allowed to go to the spaceport or the Baron’s servants dragged her back.

  “Fïac Lartnér,” said Seelnay worriedly, “surely you don’t mean to leave just like that?”

  Lafier was surprised. “Of course not.”

  “Forgive me, it goes without saying that you wouldn’t part without saying your goodbyes to my lord...”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Lafier was even more surprised. “Do you not know?”

  “Know what, Your Highness?” Doubt flashed across her face.

  “The Baron refused to let us refuel. The ship can’t fly. He also locked up my companion.”

  “Goodness!” Seelnay covered her gaping mouth. “My lord did what!?”

  “You really didn’t know? The Baron can’t have done it all alone. The servants followed his orders, didn’t they?”

  “I would have followed those orders, too, had he directed them at me.” Seelnay’s head drooped with guilt. “But I swear to you, I didn’t know. My lord informs his servants only of what they need to know. I thought Your Highness was stopping by in the middle of a military mission.”

  “But you knew of the enemy fleet’s impending invasion!”

  “I heard the rumors about it. In a domain this small, rumors spread very fast. I didn’t hear about it from my lord.”

  “I see.” It must have been the Flight Control officer who spread the rumor. “Well, now you know for sure. So what will you do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are a gosucec lymr (GOHSOOK LYOOM, Baron’s servant), but you are also an imperial citizen. The choice is yours: Will you remain loyal to the Baron as a servant, or will you aid me in my mission as a citizen of the Empire?”

  She hesitated for a long time.

  “Understood.” Finally, her answer came. Seelnay knelt. “I will follow my orders as a citizen.”

  “Wait...” Lafier hadn’t ordered her to follow her in her capacity as a royal princess; she had requested her aid as a soldier. But she thought better than trying to explain that to her. It worked out for the best either way.

  “You have my gratitude,” is all she said.

  “Oh, I’m not worthy.” Seelnay stood up and opened the door.

  Chapter 11: The Erstwhile Baron

  “The first Baroness of Febdash, my mother, came from an overpopulated terrestrial world named Di Laplance. Anyways, for family reasons, she had to choose between immigrating to an emptier world or becoming an imperial citizen.”

  He had been given a meal of spicy chicken stew and assorted fresh vegetables. Not only was the portion far too generous for one serving, it was also delicious.

  The Abh liked their food mild. He’d thought that it was perhaps due to their taste buds differing, but they were actually the same as their ancestors’. It was simply a cultural quirk of theirs to prefer bland-tasting food. Jinto had heard theories that the Abh simply mistook thin flavors for elegance.

  This stew had gone a tad overboard with the spiciness, but compared to the meals he’d been provided on the Goslauth, at least it tasted like something, so Jinto liked it.

  However, he couldn’t just relax and savor the flavor.

  Pecking at his stew disinterestedly, he gave his full attention to the old man as he recounted the history of the Febdash Estate.

  “So, she picked the imperial citizen path. And the quickest way to become one was to volunteer for the Star Forces. So she decided to be a sach in the Bondœbec (BOHNDEHB). You know that department, don’t ya, boy?”

  “Yeah,” Jinto nodded. “It’s a technical department that services weapons, right?”

  “It sure is. She met my father in the military, and gave birth to me on land. Not out of wedlock, mind you.”

  “I gathered.”

  “Then she got appraised as a real talent and managed to get into a cénruc fazér roübonr (KENROO FAHZEHR ROW’BOHN, academy for arms manufacture). Do you know that kinda school?”

  “Yeah, I did some research when looking into schools for myself. It’s a school for weapons engineers.”

  “That’s right. When she graduated, she transferred to the Faziac Roübonr (FAHZEEA ROW’BOHN, Arms Department) and became a starpilot. If she’d stayed a sach, all she would have gotten after many years of service was a gentry class rank. She did pretty good for herself, wouldn’t ya say?”

  “Guess so.” Not that he had any choice but to agree, with the old man staring at him like that.

  “Seems she’d become estranged from my father around that time. So I dunno what he looks like. But that ain’t so rare among the Abh, ya know. Mom did even better from that point on. She was nothing special as a faziac (engineer), but she was great at roping people into things. A natural leader, she was. That’s what got her so many promotions. She made it all the way to Spénec Fazér (SPENOO FAHZEHR, Engineering Admiral) and Saimh Bhobotr Ménhotr (SEHF VOHBOHT MENYOHT, Director-General of Fleet Administration).”

  “Wow.”

  “Right? The Empire compensates the service of admirals with noble ranks, and they gave her this blue star here.”

  Jinto’s mouth was full of vegetables, so all he could do to confirm he was still listening was nod.

  “Anyways, that’s why I’m still just a Lander genetically. I hated that when I was a lad, but I don’t really care anymore. Honestly, now that I’m this age, I dunno what I’d even do with a younger body. And I dunno why the Abh’d renounce their right to die by aging. Though I’m sure this is all gobbledygook to a youngster like you.”

  “Well, I can’t say I’d mind living life without aging.”

  “You say that now, but if you ask me, the soul and the body oughta age in tandem. But never mind that. Long story short, they let me apply to an academy cuz Mom was gentry. But I ain’t got any frocragh so I couldn’t be a lodaïrh garér (LOHDAEERR GAHREHR, flight staff starpilot), or as they’d say, a lodaïrh nauceta (NOHKTA) — a real starpilot. So, I enrolled in a cénruc fazér harr (shipbuilding academy). You know what that is?”

  “Yeah, I looked into that, too. I just don’t think I’m cut out for design or engineering.”

  There were four main streams in technological careers. There was the Arms Department, where staff devised weapons; the Faziac Harr (Shipbuilding Department), where they designed hulls; the Faziac Sair (SEHR, Engine Department), where they formulated machines; and the Faziac Datycrir (DAHTYOOCREER, Photonics Department), where they dealt with computing crystals.

  “Luckily, I was able to become a Lodaïrh Fazér Harr (Shipbuilding Starpilot). When Mom got her noble rank and territory, she was able to make full use of her technical know-how. And that’ll be the crux of the plan.”

  “Wait, what?” Jinto didn’t quite follow, but he sensed that the old man was finally verging on something juicy.

  “I’m talking about our insidious plot to sneak you out right from under my son’s nose. You didn’t forget, did ya?”

  “How could I!? It’s all I’ve been thinking about!”

  “So ya didn’t listen to a word I said.”

  “Uhh...” Jinto’s face flushed red; he’d hit the bull’s-eye.

  “It’s fine,” said the former baron, waving his hand. “It’s just been so long since I’ve talked to anybody; forgive my inane babbling.”

  “It wasn’t inane babble. It was all very interesting.”

  “Come now, boy. Ya seem like an all right kid, but now’s the time for ya to learn that blatant ego-salving’s only gonna hurt people.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t fret it. In any case, I’m gonna explain it to ya in detail. First of all, think of the similarities ‘tween ships and orbital estates. Estates are just ships without engines, ain’t they? And I was the one who planned out this barony’s estate. Thanks to my designer’s privileges, I never had to hand it over to him. That numbskull was so quick to lock me up he forgot to shake me down for it beforehand. All I gotta do is sa
y the saighoth (SEZHOHTH, password) and this whole mansion’s aimh (EHF, computing crystal net) will submit to me. If I can just get near a terminal, it’ll be child’s play to turn the tables and imprison my little son of the year.”

  “Then why—”

  “Why did I content myself with captivity? Tell me, boy, where would I go, exactly? If I broke out of the Estate, all that’d await me is a 3 degrees Kelvin void. Sides, all the servants I’d gotten to know back in the day’ve all been dissmissed. Now they’re all hirees tailored to his tastes. So it’s understandable why I’m not so gung-ho about escape, ain’t it?”

  “But couldn’t you’ve called for help?”

  “The empire doesn’t meddle in noble family affairs. If you’re a noble, then you oughta remember that for the future. I’ll have ya know I like this life of mine, too. I ain’t got anything to do on the outside. Meeting up with old friends wouldn’t go so well, since I’ve aged and they haven’t. It’d make me resent how I’m the only who had to.”

  “Excuse me, but didn’t you just say that ‘the soul and the body should age in tandem’?”

  “You ain’t ever heard of ‘sour grapes,’ boy?”

  “Oh, I’m familiar.”

  “Then that oughta say it all.”

  “Well, if you’re okay with it, then...” He believed the former baron overall, though doubt remained. “Are you sure the Baron hasn’t changed that password?”

  “Nope,” he replied breezily. “I ain’t sure. But sometimes you’ve just gotta throw the dice. Otherwise life gets real boring. That’s the thing I hate the most about my life here — nobody to lay wagers with.”

  “I’m not a big fan of gambling,” said Jinto. Ever since that fateful day seven years prior, Jinto had a feeling that destiny didn’t much like him. And he wasn’t about to commend his life to a force with whom he didn’t get along.

  “You’re prolly better off that way, but we’re running good odds here. The password is burned in on a molecular level. As long as he hasn’t changed all of the computing crystals, he can’t have changed the password.”

  “If you say so.” But his misgivings weren’t quite cleared yet. There was no guarantee that he hadn’t, in fact, replaced them.

  “Believe in me, boy. Bet on me. Now, I ain’t averse to helping ya so I can kill some time, but first I gotta hear what’s got ya in this tizzy. What did ya come here for, and how’d ya end up in this dump with me?”

  So Jinto filled him in. About how he’d been accepted into a quartermaster’s academy. How he’d boarded the patrol ship Goslauth to get to the capital — to Lacmhacarh. How they’d crossed paths with a fleet of likely-enemy space-time bubbles. How he’d been able to escape using the connecting vessel that Lafier was piloting. How they’d come to the Febdash Barony for a refueling pit stop...

  “And you know the rest.”

  “Hmm? So you’re saying the girl ya mentioned before is a royal princess?”

  “Yep,” he nodded reluctantly.

  “Hoo-wee.” The old man grinned. “So that’s what’s been going on out there since I retired. This is a real doozy, let me tell ya! If my dead mother caught wind of this, she’d be head over heels. A royal princess, in our home! Having even just you over, the noble prince of a countdom, is downright extravagant. It’s raised the status of my family name.”

  “You can cut the wisecracks now,” said Jinto, peeved. “So, are you gonna help me?”

  “‘Course, boy. I just need to help ya get back to the skies on the connecting vessel with the royal princess, right?”

  “After getting it refueled, yeah.”

  “Right, ‘course, can’t forget the refueling bit. Might as well get you two some food to carry with ya while we’re at it, too.”

  “That’d be great, if you can. Thank you. I was getting tired of üanhirh (WAHNEERR, combat rations). They’re as bland as everything else the Abh eat. But would you be able to?”

  “I think so. There’s just one problem.”

  “What?”

  “Remember what I said about needing a terminal? Well, my son’s vaguely aware I’d find some use in one, so there ain’t any in this section.”

  “You can’t be serious,” he said dejectedly.

  “What did ya expect? I’d just stroll right up to a terminal so you and your girlfriend could escape hand-in-hand, just like that? Life ain’t that easy.”

  “Lafier’s not my girlfriend,” Jinto pointed out.

  “Don’t dwell on it, I was just embellishing, that’s all.”

  “Okay, whatever. How do we get to a terminal?”

  “We just need to slip out of here first.”

  “How?”

  “That’s what we need to figure out together. Otherwise our insidious plan ain’t going anywhere, boy. Plus, this is your chance to impress your lady friend. Speaking of which...”

  “What?”

  “You sure ya ain’t a couple?”

  “I’m sure.” It was a rather unfortunate fact, but a fact all the same.

  “Yet here ya are, calling a royal princess by her given name. Not many in the Empire who can get away with that, ya know. Or do ya just call her by name when she’s not around? Cuz then I’d have to amend my evaluation of you.”

  “No, I, uhhh...” Jinto hemmed and hawed. “I do address her by name.”

  “Then—”

  “But only because of my own ignorance and a boatload of luck. Going into it any further would take too long; I’d be boring you to tears.”

  “Oh, no, I’d love to have a listen, but I can tell you’re not in the mood to divulge.”

  “Not really, no. Sorry. There’s no time to waste.”

  “It sucks, but what can ya do? And I thought I’d be able to cast my wretch of a son in the role of a corrupt noble making advances on another man’s girl. The perfect, hoggish role for that faux sophisticate!”

  In reality, the Baron of Febdash did not nurse any such feelings toward Lafier. And Lafier, for her part, wasn’t the type to be crushing on anyone at the moment, at least not consciously. No potential for some illicit affair.

  Typically, the Baron took a handful of his favorite servants to his bedchambers, but tonight he retired alone. He had much to ruminate on.

  He poured some apple cider from the Dreuhynh Saimlycr (DRYOOHYOONYUH SEMLYOOK, Countdom of Semlyoosh) into his cup of amethyst and downed it.

  His heart was wavering. He couldn’t be sure that he’d made the right call.

  His ambition was to create his own kingdom. The kingdom he sought to erect wouldn’t be a large enough power to resist the Empire, for though he did tend to overestimate his own talents, he was no madman. In terms of scale, he was fine with his barony remaining this size.

  However, the man was a prisoner of his own inferiority complex within the prism of the Empire’s aristocracy. He was, at present, a mere baron, and the history of his family line was shorter than that of many gentry.

  That is why he didn’t much care for visits to the capital. His house’s lack of history assaulted him most when he was among other Abhs.

  But here, in his domain, he was the only Abh around. He didn’t consider his father to be a true Abh, and even if he did, nothing would have changed. On this tiny world, he was the ruler, the subduer. So long as he didn’t venture out of his comfort zone, he could delude himself into thinking he was the king of an independent monarchy he could rule with impunity.

  The second he’d intercepted the communication between Lafier and the Flight Control officer, he feared he’d lose his little kingdom.

  The enemy could be naught but the Four Nations Alliance. His domain didn’t get much by way of information, but it was enough to come to that conclusion.

  Would the FNA recognize the autonomy of his barony? No, of course not!

  Then what could he do? All he could hope for, the Baron thought after some moments of intense consternation, was that the FNA ignored the barony altogether. To have that happen, he’d need to avoid
any unnecessary activity. He refused to allow any entry into flat space through the Febdash Gate. He’d explained as much to Lafier.

  He was well aware, of course, that flat space entry from the Febdash Gate was not, in fact, all that likely to arouse the attention of the enemy.

  As such, the first plan that flitted through his mind was to refuel them as quickly as possible and then promptly jettison all the small ships that could signpost their existence. That would have been the course of action that invited the least risk. But that was when a much less noble-minded thought burrowed into his heart.

  What if the enemy already had the barony in its sights?

  If they demanded he provide them aid, he would comply without a second thought. The barony had no military power, so resistance was futile. He would give them as much fuel as they wanted, if that would keep his “kingdom” intact.

  But perhaps the enemy wasn’t interested in his aid. There was the worryingly distinct possibility that they simply seized the antimatter fuel factories and the other facilities by force.

  That said, wouldn’t they also be interested in the Empress’s granddaughter? She’d have no value as a hostage, given the responsibilities incumbent upon the Empress, but maybe the enemy didn’t know that. He could use her as a pawn. He could ensure the preservation of his star-fief and hand her over to them. He’d prolong negotiations for as long as possible, but not out of any hesitation to assist the enemy. On the contrary, he’d turn the Barony of Febdash into a strategic base for the FNA. If it turned into an important resupplying station for them, he’d be mostly safe. After all, if they took over its operations by force, he was prepared to commit suicide — and take the entire domain out with him.

  Lafier was a bird who’d unwittingly flown into his cage, and he’d use her as collateral.

  And what if his link to the Empire was severed, and the enemy never came to his doorstep? That would be ideal, for then he would truly become this small world’s absolute ruler! It mattered not that he’d have only his fifty servants as subjects, nor that he’d only have access to a limited variety of meat and hydroponic produce. He could even bear to go without his favorite Semlyoosh-sourced apple cider.