And yet, even as the battle’s outcome was being decided, August was dead. Knowing the end was near, Commodore Schaumburg had pushed August into his pit of hornheads as he was feeding the dogs raw meat. The emperor let out an indescribable scream on his way to the bottom of the pit, where his fat was torn by fangs and claws and digested in the stomachs of animals well fed.
After an unbelievable triumphal return to the capital amid cries of “Long live the new emperor,” Erich immediately summoned Schaumburg, praising him for eliminating the tyrant, and preventing any further harm to the people and their nation, and promoted him to full admiral. He then had an elated Schaumburg apprehended and sentenced to death by firing squad for having massacred so many people as the tyrant’s trusted retainer.
The newly enthroned Emperor Erich’s subsequent reign was neither particularly resourceful nor civilized. Erich nevertheless earned his place in history as a ruler of great merit by dispelling the shadow of August’s terror-based politics, rescuing the empire from a hellish state, and stabilizing the spirits of his people. But, like his descendant Maximilian Josef, he only prolonged a despotic regime that might otherwise have collapsed, being naught but an unwitting criminal in the grander scheme of things.
V
All of which was to say that ousting the child emperor Erwin Josef as a tyrant was a crime they couldn’t afford to commit.
Even if he died of natural causes, people would automatically suspect foul play. To avoid being dishonored as a child killer, Duke von Lohengramm had to protect the child emperor’s life and health at all costs. It was a suitably ironic position to be in, and no matter how discerning Duke von Lohengramm might have been, one could imagine the burden this child emperor had come to represent. Still, the emperor’s defection had resolved one challenge by leaving the throne vacant. Could the former ruler’s side blame a new ruler for wanting to fill it?
The old regime’s subjective aim was now unburdening its enemy’s load. Duke von Lohengramm, in his flamboyant manner, enjoyed a hearty laugh over that one. All paths led to his triumph. If the emperor had defected, abandoning the throne and his subjects of his free will, then Reinhard had every right to criticize his irresponsibility and cowardice. And if the emperor had been abducted against his will, Reinhard would condemn the kidnappers and proceed to “rescue” the emperor himself. Either way, the power of choice was in his elegantly hand-stitched pocket. Meanwhile, the Free Planets Alliance had hopped into bed with the emperor and his self-proclaimed loyal retainers, and could only wait with bated breath to see which card their opponent would play. They’d already missed their chance.
Is this just blind luck on Duke von Lohengramm’s part? thought Yang.
The answer provided some consolation: Fate seems to be sitting this one out.
Duke von Lohengramm was young, bursting at the seams with ambition and courage, and had never been the type to spend his days pining for good fortune. It was right to see the cogs of Duke von Lohengramm’s intentions spinning throughout this latest turn of events. He’d already succeeded in bringing about a coup d’état in the alliance. And while he couldn’t claim to have planned it from step one, there was a distinct possibility he’d known of a plan to abduct the emperor but willfully shut his eyes to it. Yang didn’t believe remnants of the old regime had the wherewithal to take the emperor out of Odin. How would they infiltrate the capital to begin with? How would they make their escape? And how would they manage to stay hidden from the prying eyes of authorities? It was impossible to imagine anyone other than Duke von Lohengramm abetting this crime. He had in his possession all the necessary resources, capital, and personal connections, to say nothing of a viable motive.
And what about Phezzan?
Had Phezzan struck again? Yang almost reprimanded himself for entertaining the notion. As someone who had never joined a legitimate historical school, he’d never been much of a revisionist. In his mind, one needed more than the plots and schemes of an infinitesimal minority to change the course of things. History just didn’t work that way.
At any rate, the alliance government shouldn’t be held accountable for the cause, but for the effect.
The Free Planets Alliance had joined forces with the old regime of the Galactic Empire. The aristocrats were clearly reactionaries. By rebuilding the legitimate authority of the Goldenbaum Dynasty, and using that as their backdrop, mustering power through and within it, they’d monopolized wealth in the hopes of turning the tide. Their opposition to Duke von Lohengramm’s political and social reform came from a staunch belief in “future democratization.” It was the brilliant culmination of foolish decision-making.
Yang felt schools of prejudice swimming through the sea of his thoughts but admirably refrained from casting his net. The Goldenbaum Dynasty had lasted for five centuries since Rudolf the Great, and in that time it had had many opportunities to correct sociopolitical injustices. The elites turned away every time, killing dynastic flowers from root to petal with their poisonous breath of corruption. What could their remnants possibly have anticipated?
Someone once said there were three kinds of thieves: those who rob by violence, those by wisdom, and those by law.
And what of the twenty-five billion people of the empire released by Duke von Lohengramm from the yoke of an aristocratic governmental system? They aren’t likely to forgive the alliance anytime soon for allying itself with the worst kind of thief imaginable. That’s a given. Does this mean we’ll come to fight a “people’s army” of the Galactic Empire, as I once suspected? And won’t justice be on their side when that happens?
“Well, Admiral Merkatz, what are you going do to?”
A gentle voice pulled Yang’s attentions back to the Iserlohn conference room. He scanned the faces of his men until his eyes landed on the speaker: his chief staff officer, Murai. Despite their differences in rank, the other staff officers made no effort to mask their like-minded bewilderment. The attitude of the legitimate imperial government’s newly nominated military secretary might very well have meshed with his staff officers, but no one could read his face. Murai had torn up his reserve and hesitation like a sheet of paper.
“Count von Remscheid, as leader of the government-in-exile, surely wouldn’t expect Admiral Merkatz to refuse his nomination. I see no use in defying his expectations.”
Although there was no cynicism in Admiral Murai’s voice, he lacked a certain tolerance for evasion and self-effacement, and made Merkatz feel that his path of retreat had been cut off. The ever-serious Murai had vaulted the wall of guest admiral defectors with the pole of a surface-level criticism. Merkatz turned to his questioner with tired eyes.
“I don’t agree at all with Count von Remscheid’s point of view. My loyalty to His Majesty the Emperor is every bit as strong as his, but if you ask me, I’d rather see His Majesty lead a carefree life as an ordinary citizen.”
The veteran admiral’s voice deepened.
“Just because they’ve set up a government-in-exile doesn’t mean they can overrule Duke von Lohengramm’s authority. He treats the people as his allies, but only because they support him. What I can’t seem to wrap my head around…”
Merkatz shook his head slowly. The shadow of a weariness that was more than physical was tightening its invisible grip around him.
“…is why those who should be defending the young emperor seem to be pushing His Majesty into a maelstrom of political strife and war. If they’re going to set up a government-in-exile, they should do it on their own. There’s no reason why they should involve a child, even if it is His Majesty, who cannot yet claim power of judgment.”
Yang, who’d removed his beret and was fiddling with it impolitely, was silent. He glanced unassumingly at von Schönkopf, who offered his opinion.
“If you think about it, supply and demand don’t agree in this case.”
“Supply and demand?”
�
��That’s right. Since Duke von Lohengramm’s power would be nothing without the people it’s built on, he no longer has need for the emperor’s authority. On the other hand, by undermining the veracity of his power, Count von Remscheid is forcing him to use his surplus to take initiative over the government-in-exile.”
“Admiral Merkatz’s position is understood. But I want to ask what Your Excellency plans to do and how you will act.”
“Rear Admiral Murai,” said Yang, opening his mouth for the first time.
He felt like Merkatz was being put in the defendant’s chair. He highly valued Murai’s fastidiousness and precision, but sometimes he could be a thorn in the side.
“How nice it must be for those within an organization to be able to manage themselves for their own convenience. I’ve got a mountain of choice words I’d like to convey to those government bigwigs. What really gets me is how they’re forcing us into their arbitrary decisions.”
Caselnes, von Schönkopf, and Frederica Greenhill nodded at Yang’s reasoning, understanding what he was getting at. Merkatz was by no means seeking to follow protocol and participate officially in the government-in-exile, but had become a scapegoat of ex post facto coercion. It would be unfair to give him an ultimatum at this point. Perhaps aware of this, Murai bowed his head and took his leave.
Fearing the situation would turn into a quagmire, Yang ordered a reprieve. Von Schönkopf turned to the general with a wry smile on his face.
“If you’ve got a mountain of things to say, then why not say them? Why not just shout ‘King Midas has donkey ears!’ and get it over with?”
“It’s not the place of an active-duty soldier to voice political criticisms in an open meeting, is it?”
“I think those imbeciles on Heinessen should be criticized.”
“You’re free to think, but never to speak.”
“I see, so the freedom of debate is narrower territory than the freedom of ideas? Where do you suppose the ‘Free’ in Free Planets Alliance comes from?”
Yang was certain he knew how to answer that question, but shrugged his shoulders in silence all the same. Iserlohn’s defense commander saw this and narrowed his eyes.
“A free country? My grandparents fled to this ‘free’ country with me when I was six years old. That was twenty-eight years ago, but I remember every detail. The cold winds that cut like a knife and the contemptuous looks of customs officers who treated refugees like beggars. I’ll never forget them until the day I die.”
It was rare for von Schönkopf to share anything about his past, and Yang’s black eyes brimmed with interest, but von Schönkopf didn’t feel like going on about himself. He stroked his pointed chin and gathered himself.
“Point is, I’m a man who’s already mourned the loss of his homeland. If once becomes twice, I’ll be neither surprised nor grieved.”
In a separate room, a heated conversation was taking place between a superior officer and his subordinate.
Merkatz looked back at his aide, Lieutenant von Schneider, his face a perfect blend of cynicism and self-derision.
“The power of a man’s imagination can only go so far, am I right? Not one year ago, I never would’ve dreamed fate was setting a place for me at such a table.”
Von Schneider was beside himself with disappointment.
“For the record, I pushed for exile, thinking it better for Your Excellency’s sake.”
Merkatz narrowed his eyes a little.
“Oh? I thought you, of all people, would be pleased. For someone who opposes Duke von Lohengramm, there could be no higher title.”
From anyone else’s mouth, those words would have felt like barbed wire on von Schneider’s skin. He shook his head in disgust.
“Secretary of the military of the legitimate government does have a nice ring to it, but in truth there wouldn’t be a single soldier under Your Excellency’s command, would there?”
“And if I wasn’t there to lead, how would it be any different from now?”
“Point taken. But you did take charge by leading Admiral Yang’s fleet, if only temporarily. But now even that would be too much to hope for. It’s an empty title without a shred of fidelity.”
Von Schneider clicked his tongue.
“Count von Remscheid’s one thing, but outside of nobles holding rank at court, there’s no one of merit on the list. I don’t see how anyone among them would be capable of rallying opposition against Duke von Lohengramm.”
“There’s still His Majesty the Emperor.”
Merkatz’s voice sank into von Schneider’s chest. The lieutenant held his breath. He stared at the veteran general, who’d served as the emperor’s retainer for more than forty years, and who by the hunch of his shoulders appeared to have aged quickly. Von Schneider, too, was naturally aware of his service to the emperor but, compared to Merkatz, was more impulsive and prone to following wherever compensation led him. Seeing how stupefied his aide was by the implications of his words, Merkatz smiled.
“I suppose I can’t stop you from worrying too much. And in any case, I have yet to formally accept the request. Let’s think about it carefully.”
The tempest was already sending in its vanguard, and Yang had taken no measures against it. In fact, he had no backup plan whatsoever. If the empire’s massive navy was indeed rushing toward Iserlohn Fortress, he could rouse some tactical strategists of exceptional ability, but given their inexperience outside of politics, as uniformed officers they’d be useless. Yang continued to watch from the side lines, unprepared.
“Your Excellency! Duke von Lohengramm is on the comm screen. He’s about to deliver an address to the empire and the alliance.”
The communications officer brought this urgent report after managing to squeeze in a meal following news of the government-in-exile.
Reinhard’s lion-maned figure was transmitted over the main screen of the central command room.
He wore the traditional black-and-silver uniform that distinguished him as head of the Imperial Navy, yet set him off to such advantage that it might as well have been designed centuries before just so that it might one day cling to the body of this young, golden-haired man. His ice-blue eyes concealed a blizzard deep within, and being locked in their gaze was enough to send waves of fear through one’s entire being. Whether one liked him or not, he clearly belonged to another realm entirely.
As Reinhard opened his mouth, his fluent, musical voice caressed the eardrums of his listeners, even if the contents of his speech were most severe. After announcing the truth behind the emperor’s abduction, the alluring dictator dropped his intangible bombshell.
“I hereby declare: Having abducted the emperor by unlawful, not to mention cowardly, means, the remnants of the high nobility are attempting to turn the tide of history by depriving the people of their hard-earned rights. For this atrocity, they will receive due recompense. As for those overly ambitious people of the Free Planets Alliance who, in their illicit collusion, plot a war of insubordination against universal peace and order, they will suffer the same fate. Their error must be rectified by the appropriate punishment. Criminals require neither diplomacy nor persuasion. They possess neither the ability to, nor do they intend to, understand such things. Force alone will make them see their ignorance. No matter how much blood is to be shed, remember that these foolish kidnappers and conspirators are to blame.”
No diplomacy, no persuasion. Reinhard’s listeners felt their hearts racing in their chests. The old galactic regime’s government-in-exile, in conspiracy with the alliance government, had been rendered a target of military intervention. To be sure, anyone who saw it as “reform” had foreseen this rapid, merciless response.
As Reinhard’s figure faded from the screen, von Schönkopf turned to Yang.
“This is tantamount to a declaration of war, is it not? I guess it’s too late to worry about it now.”<
br />
“The pieces are all in place.”
“Looks like Iserlohn will be on the front lines yet again. That’s the last thing we need. Those cretins do as they please, just because they think they have this fortress. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
Yang opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, staring through the grayed-out screen at something no one else could see.
I
The Free Planets Alliance was thrown into chaos by Emperor Erwin Josef II’s defection and Duke Reinhard von Lohengramm’s declaration of war. Naturally, the High Council, with Job Trünicht as its chairman, had expected Reinhard to antagonize the government-in-exile, but it was shocked by the severity of his reaction. So far as councilman Kaplan was concerned, just as they were considering diplomatic negotiations with the government-in-exile, they’d received a preemptory slap in the face, told in no uncertain terms by the enemy that compromise was no longer an option.
“That golden brat has the gall to threaten us, backed by military force,” said Kaplan, infuriated.
But no matter how much they might blame Reinhard, culpability was on them for their rash political decisions. They’d practically laid a welcome mat out for Reinhard’s strong-arm tactics.
Their choice, foolish as it was, had been unknowingly directed by Reinhard and Phezzan’s coproduction behind the curtain. This was a small comfort, given the greater misfortune it had spawned.
Two unaffiliated politicians—João Lebello and Huang Rui—were eating dinner at a local restaurant. Both men, being attached to the hearing, were bound to Yang. And so, for the moment, their conversation was focused on that very subject.
“Yang Wen-li? A dictator? That’s a hard one to swallow.”
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