Ambition

by Yoshiki Tanaka

  “We’ve no choice. Besides, he knows very well that Marquis von Lohengramm is the only reason he’s here. And that being the case, I suspect there’s a reason he hasn’t done something already—he’s waiting for us to come to him.”

  “In that case, doesn’t that imply he’s going to expect something in return? What do we do if he wants the right to overrule our decisions in certain cases?”

  “All of us, von Oberstein included, are riding on the good ship Lohengramm. To save oneself, one has to save the ship. And supposing von Oberstein did try to take advantage of the situation for his own benefit, it would simply be a matter of taking appropriate measures ourselves to get back at him.”

  Von Reuentahl finished speaking, and the other admirals nodded to one another. That was when a security officer appeared and announced the arrival of von Oberstein.

  “You showed up at just the right time,” Mittermeier said. His lack of affection was clear from his tone.

  Von Oberstein stepped into the room, looked around at those there assembled, and began to criticize them without reservation. “Considering how long your discussion has gone on, I take it no conclusion is forthcoming.”

  “Well, since our force is currently missing its number one and number two, we don’t seem to have anyone presiding here.” Von Reuentahl’s words were harsh; he was taking a jab at the fact that von Oberstein’s “number two” theory had in effect led to the death of Kircheis. “So then, does the chief of staff have a good idea?”

  “I can’t say I don’t.”

  “Oh? And what would that be?”

  “To ask Marquis von Lohengramm’s sister.”

  “Countess von Grünewald? We thought about that too, but will that alone be enough to get us anywhere?”

  The words were von Reuentahl’s, but the fact of the matter was that nobody wanted to take on the job of reporting to Annerose what had happened.

  “Leave that to me, but I do have something for all of you to do: I need you to capture the man who killed Kircheis.”

  Even the quick-witted von Reuentahl couldn’t grasp the meaning of that sentence right away. His heterochromatic eyes open slightly wider in spite of himself.

  “That’s an odd thing to say. The killer was Ansbach, wasn’t it?”

  “Ansbach was small fry. We’re going to make someone else out to be the real plotter. A very big fish.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a form of psychological perversion,” von Oberstein explained, “but in his heart, Reinhard is crying out for the killer to be someone big. He cannot endure the thought that Kircheis was murdered by the likes of Ansbach—a mere underling of Duke von Braunschweig. This creates a necessity for Kircheis to have been murdered by a much more significant foe. Therefore, we need to find someone big who was at work behind Ansbach in the shadows. Such an individual does not, in fact, exist. Which is why we will simply have to manufacture one.”

  “Hmm. But whom can we frame as the ringleader? The boyar nobles are all but extinct now. Is there anyone who fits that scenario?”

  “Oh, I have an excellent candidate.”

  “Who?” Mittermeier asked doubtfully.

  “The imperial prime minister, Duke Klaus Lichtenlade.”

  Everyone in the room was left speechless for a moment. Mittermeier looked like he had been physically struck. The gazes of the other admirals, too, were focused on the chief of staff, with his artificial eye. They could guess what he intended: he wanted to put this crisis to work for them in order to eliminate a latent enemy.

  “I wouldn’t want to make you my enemy,” said Mittermeier. “There’s no way I’d ever win.”

  At least on the surface, von Oberstein ignored the deep malice evident in Mittermeier’s words.

  “Duke Lichtenlade will need to be eliminated sooner or later. And it isn’t as if his heart is as pure as an angel’s, either. There’s no doubt he’s weaving conspiracies of his own to eliminate Marquis von Lohengramm.”

  “So what you’re saying is this wouldn’t be an entirely false accusation. I can see that. That old man is certainly a schemer.” Von Reuentahl, speaking in a low voice, sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

  “We return to Odin as quickly as possible, arrest Duke Lichtenlade, and seize the imperial seal. Do that, and we can establish dictatorial powers for Marquis von Lohengramm.”

  Mittermeier, in an attempt at sarcasm, said, “But what do we do if the person who takes the imperial seal stays on Odin and tries to become a dictator himself?”

  Von Oberstein replied, “There’s no fear of that. Even if one of you had such ambitions, he would be stopped by admirals of similar rank. None of you would just obediently stand leeward of a man who’d been your equal up to now. In fact, that’s the very reason I say we don’t need a number two.”

  Power is justified not by how you get it but by how you use it.

  The admirals recognized the truth of that saying, and it led them to make a monumental decision.

  Conspiracy and trickery were unavoidable. Now was the time to purge the court of Marquis von Lohengramm’s hidden enemies and seize the full power of the government. Von Oberstein’s strategy was exactly what they needed. If they stood by and did nothing, they would simply be handing the initiative over to the enemy.

  The admirals went into action. Von Oberstein, Mecklinger, and Lutz stayed behind at Gaiesburg to run security, while the others, leading the cream of their elite military forces, hurried off toward Odin.

  In this way, they made the opening move against the palace coup that Duke Lichtenlade was sure to attempt sooner or later. Driven by their determination, they made the twenty-day journey from Gaiesberg to Odin in fourteen.

  “Gale Wolf” Mittermeier scathingly told his subordinates, “Leave any ships that fall out of the column behind. I’ll just hope they can make it to Odin sometime.”

  At the time he departed Gaiesburg, he was commanding a fleet of high-speed cruisers numbering twenty thousand, but that number decreased with every successive warp, and by the time they reached the Valhalla Stellar Region, where Odin was located, only three thousand ships remained.

  Müller used eight hundred of these to take control of satellite orbit, while the other admirals plunged into the atmosphere. That many simultaneous landings were beyond the spaceport’s traffic controllers’ ability to handle, and half the fleet was forced to make water landings in lakes.

  It was midnight where Neue Sans Souci Palace was located. Mittermeier headed straight for the prime minister’s office. It was von Reuentahl who led the raid on Duke Lichtenlade’s residence. The prime minister was sitting in bed reading when the young officer with heterochromatic eyes kicked in the door and charged inside.

  “What is the meaning of this?! What are you lowborn fools rioting about?” the prime minister scolded von Reuentahl.

  “Your Excellency, Prime Minister Klaus Lichtenlade: I am placing you under arrest.”

  What ran through the elderly ruler’s mind at that moment was not so much surprise as a feeling of defeat. The old man had hoped to monopolize all power and authority himself, and bring about Reinhard’s fall with a single push from behind—but now he had been beaten to the punch by von Oberstein’s insight and the admirals’ actions.

  “On what grounds?” he said.

  “You were the sponsor of the failed assassination attempt against His Excellency, Marquis Reinhard von Lohengramm.”

  The elderly prime minister’s eyes widened. For a long moment he stood glaring at von Reuentahl’s face. Then a shudder ran through his slender frame, and he spat out, “Foolish dolt. What proof do you have to be spouting such nonsense? I am the imperial prime minister. I stand above you in assisting His Highness.”

  “And at the same time are a lawless conspirator,” von Reuentahl said coldly. He shouted to his soldiers, �
�Arrest him!”

  Soldiers of common birth violently grabbed the arm of the old highborn aristocrat, a man whom they once could not even have approached.

  At the same time, a squad led by Mittermeier was charging into the building housing the offices of the prime minister and his staff.

  “Where is the imperial seal?” Mittermeier demanded of an elderly bureaucrat who was working the night shift. Though he went white as a sheet when he found himself surrounded by gun muzzles, he refused to divulge the seal’s whereabouts.

  “By what authority do you ask? This is indeed the Imperial Seal Room, and the office of the prime minister. It’s not a place where military officials unrelated to our work can come barging in in the middle of the night. Please withdraw now.”

  At that, Mittermeier acted swiftly to keep the bloodlust of his men from getting out of hand. He acknowledged the old bureaucrat’s courage and didn’t want to see him harmed. Even so, that didn’t mean he was going to back down. He signaled to his men, and the soldiers went into the room, fanned out, and began ransacking what had, until a short while ago, been a holy place that not even a ministry head or an imperial marshal would have dared enter without permission. Cabinets and desks were turned over, and important documents not allowed outside the room spilled onto the floor, to be trod beneath the soles of military-issue boots.

  “Please stop this,” the old man cried. “Is this what you think of the empire’s—of the imperial family’s—authority? You should be ashamed of yourselves. This is an act unworthy of imperial subjects.”

  “The imperial family’s authority? I think I’ve heard of that. It was something they used to have a long time ago.” Mittermeier was talking big now. “But ultimately, it’s the use of force that gives authority its meaning, not the other way around. Just look in there—I think you’ll understand quite well.”

  One soldier shouted out joyfully and held a tiny box up high in his hand. It was adorned on the lid and all around its edges with a classical grape arabesque pattern.

  “This is it! I’ve found it!”

  With a scream, the old bureaucrat ran toward the soldier and tried to grab him, but he was pummeled to the ground by other soldiers first. Faithful to his office, the old man crawled across the floor, blood dropping from a cut on his forehead.

  Mittermeier opened the box and, without feeling particularly moved or impressed, stared at the gold-plated seal he found wrapped in crimson velvet within. The two-headed eagle that formed its handle stared back at him like a living creature.

  So this is the imperial seal? he thought.

  Mittermeier gave a low laugh, glanced down at the man lying on the floor, and gave orders to have a doctor summoned.

  For the imperial capital of Odin, the civil war both began and ended amid subjugation by Reinhard’s admirals.

  Count von Mariendorf’s daughter Hilda was already in bed when it started, but once she was told about the disturbance in the city, she threw a robe on over her nightgown and went out onto the mansion’s balcony.

  There she could hear all the sounds of the military: the loud and the soft, the strong and the weak—a symphony borne to her ears on the night wind.

  While she was listening, a messenger came and said in a fearful voice, “Where did they come from, milady?”

  “Armies don’t just bubble up out of the ground,” she said. “Aside from Marquis von Lohengramm’s, there can’t be any force with numbers like these.”

  Yielding her short hair to the night wind’s hesitant caresses, Hilda continued to speak, as if to herself. “It looks like some lively times are ahead for us. Of course, things are sure to get a little crazy, but I’ll still take that over stagnation any day.”

  III

  … Had he been dreaming?

  Reinhard looked around. The room was dim, chilly, and utterly silent. Aside from himself, there was only Kircheis—lying in a case made of special glass—and the cold, dry air. His redheaded friend did not move, nor speak, nor breathe.

  So it had been a dream, after all. Reinhard’s shoulders drooped, and he pulled up the collar of his uniform cloak as he closed his eyes.

  … Annerose, having received leave from the emperor, had invited Reinhard and Kircheis to a mountain villa in Freuden. It had been the first time they had seen each other in a year and a half. The blond-haired boy and the redheaded boy, dressed in their military school uniforms, adjusting each other’s hats and collars, had come running from their stiff and formal dormitory.

  It was a six-hour trip by landcar. This was because flight over the imperial family’s lands was forbidden. There were flower gardens there and mountains capped with snow year-round. But the contrasting beauty of pure white and rainbow colors was soon blotted out by the dark grays of heavy rain that arrived with rolling thunder. The three of them spent the whole vacation cooped up inside the villa. However, that had been enjoyable in its own way. Throwing wood into the fireplace, they had sung every song they knew, while reflections of golden flames danced in their eyes …

  Reinhard’s recollections, however, were suddenly interrupted.

  “Von Oberstein here, Your Excellency,” said a voice with neither emotion nor life. “An FTL has arrived for you from Odin.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Reinhard answered: “Who is it from?”

  “Your sister, the Countess von Grünewald.”

  The young man who for hours—for days—had stirred not a muscle abruptly rose to his feet. It was as if a sculpture had suddenly sprung to life. Angry blue flames practically leapt from his eyes.

  “You’ve told her! You’ve told my sister about Kircheis, haven’t you!”

  The chief of staff took the full force of Reinhard’s boiling anger without even flinching.

  “I did. In an FTL just now.”

  “How dare you! That’s none of your business!”

  “Perhaps, but you certainly can’t hide this forever.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Are you afraid? Of your sister, I mean.”

  “What did you just say!”

  “If not, please speak with her. Your Excellency, I haven’t given up on you yet. I find it praiseworthy that you’re blaming only yourself and not trying to force it on me. However, if you continue to dwell in the past and refuse to face the future, then it’s over for you. The universe will fall into the hands of another man. And Admiral Kircheis will look down from Valhalla and be ashamed to have known you.”

  Reinhard shot a look at von Oberstein that could have incinerated him where he stood, but afterward he stamped past him and went into his private communications room.

  The comm screen displayed the fresh, unadorned beauty of Annerose’s face. The young imperial marshal struggled to suppress a shudder and tried to control his pounding heart.

  “Annerose …”

  That was all that Reinhard said before he became unable to move his tongue.

  Annerose stared at her brother. Her cheeks were white—too white. There were no tears in her blue eyes. What was there was something greater.

  “My poor, poor Reinhard …” Annerose murmured. That low voice stabbed the golden-haired youth through the heart. He understood perfectly the meaning of his sister’s words. For the sake of power, for authority, he had tried to treat his other self as a mere lackey and had received horrific retribution for such poverty of spirit.

  “You’ve lost everything you had to lose now, haven’t you?”

  At last, Reinhard managed to speak. “… No, I still have you. I do … don’t I, Annerose? Don’t I?”

  “That’s right. We have nothing left but one another now.”

  Something in her tone made Reinhard gasp. And had Annerose noticed the change in her brother’s expression?

  “Reinhard, I’m moving out of the mansion in Schwarzen. I wonder if I could have just a small cottage
somewhere?”

  “Annerose …”

  “And also, for the time being, I don’t think we should see one another.”

  “Annerose!”

  “It’s better if I’m not by your side. The way we’re living our lives is just too different … All I have is the past. But you have a future.”

  Again, Reinhard found himself speechless.

  “When you’re tired, come and see me. But it’s too early for you to be tired yet.”

  She was right. Reinhard had lost the right to long for the past and even the ability to rest when he was tired. Because Kircheis had kept his vow, he now had to keep his vow to Kircheis as well.

  He had to make this universe his own. Whatever it took, he had to do what was necessary for the sake of that goal. After all, when he thought of the immensity of what he had lost, it would be a shame if he couldn’t even do a little thing like that in return.

  “I see. If that’s what you want, then I’ll do as you wish. I’ll come and get you when the universe is mine. But before you go, please tell me one thing.”

  Reinhard swallowed and steadied his breathing.

  “Did you … did you love Kircheis?”

  And then fearfully, fearfully, he looked his sister in the eye.

  She didn’t answer. Even so, Reinhard had never seen his sister looking so porcelain white as she did at that moment, nor had he ever seen such sadness in her face. He knew that he would likely carry the memory of that expression for as long as he lived.

  And in that supposition, he was correct.

  Von Reuentahl took the job of reporting to Gaiesburg Fortress, but not willingly. After trying for some time to push that duty off on one another, the admirals had at last decided to settle the matter at the card table, and there the young heterochromiac’s luck had completely abandoned him.

  He hailed Gaiesburg from Reinhard’s admiralität. Reinhard appeared on the screen right away. The sharp gleam of reason and spirit shone in his ice-blue eyes, and when he saw those eyes, von Reuentahl knew that his young lord had found himself again. Reinhard’s speech was also lucid, and his voice had its strength back. However, von Reuentahl felt that something still wasn’t quite right.