Sunset

by Yoshiki Tanaka

  GALACTIC EMPIRE

  * * *

  REINHARD VON LOHENGRAMM

  Kaiser.

  HILDEGARD VON MARIENDORF

  Kaiserin. “Hilda.”

  PAUL VON OBERSTEIN

  Minister of military affairs. Marshal.

  WOLFGANG MITTERMEIER

  Commander in chief of the Imperial Space Armada. Marshal. Known as the “Gale Wolf.”

  FRITZ JOSEF WITTENFELD

  Commander of the Schwarz Lanzenreiter fleet. Senior admiral.

  ERNEST MECKLINGER

  Chief advisor to Imperial Headquarters. Senior admiral. Known as the “Artist-Admiral.”

  ULRICH KESSLER

  Commissioner of military police and commander of imperial capital defenses. Senior admiral.

  AUGUST SAMUEL WAHLEN

  Fleet commander. Senior admiral.

  NEIDHART MÜLLER

  Fleet commander. Senior admiral. Known as “Iron Wall Müller.”

  ARTHUR VON STREIT

  Chief aide to the kaiser. Vice admiral.

  FRANZ VON MARIENDORF

  Minister of domestic affairs. Hilda’s father.

  GÜNTER KISSLING

  Head of the Imperial Guard. Commodore.

  HEIDRICH LANG

  Junior minister of the interior and chief of the Domestic Safety Security Bureau.

  ANNEROSE VON GRÜNEWALD

  Reinhard’s elder sister. Archduchess.

  RUDOLF VON GOLDENBAUM

  Founder of the Galactic Empire’s Goldenbaum Dynasty.

  DECEASED

  SIEGFRIED KIRCHEIS

  Sacrificed himself to save Reinhard, his closest friend (vol. 2).

  KARL GUSTAV KEMPF

  Killed in base-versus-base defensive battle (vol. 3).

  HELMUT LENNENKAMP

  Committed suicide after failing in an attempt to assassinate Yang (vol. 6).

  ADALBERT FAHRENHEIT

  Died in the Battle of the Corridor (vol. 8).

  KARL ROBERT STEINMETZ

  Died in the Battle of the Corridor (vol. 8).

  KORNELIAS LUTZ

  Died in a firefight during the Urvashi Incident (vol. 9).

  OSKAR VON REUENTAHL

  Died in rebellion against the kaiser (vol. 9).

  JOB TRÜNICHT

  Shot by Oskar von Reuenthal (vol. 9).

  ISERLOHN REPUBLIC

  * * *

  JULIAN MINTZ

  Commander of the Revolutionary Army. Sublieutenant.

  FREDERICA GREENHILL YANG

  Leader of the Iserlohn Republic.

  ALEX CASELNES

  Vice admiral.

  WALTER VON SCHÖNKOPF

  Vice admiral.

  DUSTY ATTENBOROUGH

  Yang’s underclassman. Vice admiral.

  OLIVIER POPLIN

  Captain of the First Spaceborne Division at Iserlohn Fortress. Commander.

  LOUIS MACHUNGO

  Julian’s security guard. Ensign.

  KATEROSE VON KREUTZER

  Corporal. “Karin.”

  WILIABARD JOACHIM MERKATZ

  Veteran general.

  BERNARD VON SCHNEIDER

  Merkatz’s aide. Commander.

  MURAI

  Yang Fleet chief of staff. Led dissatisfied elements away from Iserlohn.

  DECEASED

  YANG WEN-LI

  Legendary military talent. Never defeated in battle. Assassinated by Church of Terra (vol. 8).

  JESSICA EDWARDS

  Antiwar representative in the National Assembly. Casualty of coup d’état (vol. 2).

  DWIGHT GREENHILL

  Frederica’s father. Chief conspirator behind coup d’état, killed when it failed (vol. 2).

  IVAN KONEV

  Cool and calculating ace pilot. Died during Vermillion War (vol. 5).

  ALEXANDOR BUCOCK

  Commander in chief of the Alliance Armed Forces Space Armada. Died in battle defending the alliance (vol. 7).

  CHUNG WU-CHENG

  General chief of staff. Died alongside Bucock (vol. 7).

  EDWIN FISCHER

  Master of fleet operations. Died in the Battle of the Corridor (vol. 8).

  FYODOR PATRICHEV

  Deputy chief of staff in Yang Fleet. Died protecting his superior officer (vol. 8).

  FORMER PHEZZAN DOMINION/CHURCH OF TERRA

  * * *

  ADRIAN RUBINSKY

  The fifth landesherr. The “Black Fox of Phezzan.”

  DOMINIQUE SAINT-PIERRE

  Rubinsky’s mistress.

  BORIS KONEV

  Independent merchant. Old acquaintance of Yang’s.

  DE VILLIERS

  Secretary-general of the Church of Terra. Archbishop.

  *Titles and ranks correspond to each

  character’s status at the end of Upheaval

  or their first appearance in Sunset.

  I

  WINTER STARLIGHT POURED DOWN like a sapphire waterfall on the garden at Imperial Headquarters. When the third year of the New Imperial Calendar was just an hour old, Kaiser Reinhard von Lohengramm faced a gathering of civilian and military officials in the courtyard at Imperial Headquarters and announced his intention to marry. After a moment of stunned silence, the guests raised their voices in celebration. As Reinhard took the hand of Hildegard “Hilda” von Mariendorf—who, though a woman, held the vital post of chief advisor to Imperial Headquarters—someone shouted out an impassioned cry of “Hoch Kaiserin!”

  Long live the Kaiserin!

  The cry felt crisp and bracing, and half a moment later it birthed countless followers.

  “Hoch Kaiserin Hildegard!”

  Long live Kaiserin Hildegard!

  The prospect of Reinhard marrying Hildegard was too natural to inspire much surprise. Rumors had long circulated about their relationship, and not malicious ones.

  “A toast to His Majesty and the bride-to-be!”

  Glasses clinked together. Laughter spread. The festive mood that filled the garden was further heightened by the revelation that Hilda was expecting a child in early June. New bottles of champagne were uncorked as new songs filled the night air.

  “A toast to His Imperial Highness the prince!”

  “No, to Her Majesty, our beautiful new empress!”

  “In any event, what a joyous day!

  After the turmoil and trials of the previous year, there was a strong shared desire for a quieter and better year to come. The engagement of the kaiser seemed to them the first sign of better fortune, symbolizing a year of peace and prosperity. What was more, the imperial heir would ensure that the Lohengramm Dynasty endured beyond its first generation. The child was sure to be beautiful and wise, no matter which parent it took after. The cheers continued, with no sign of dying down.

  Reinhard’s health also seemed to have improved. He had always hated doctors, and since October, the time and expertise of his court physicians had gone greatly underutilized, finding primary exercise in a hushed debate which had produced a tentative name for the mysterious condition that intermittently forced the kaiser to take to his bed with fever: Kaiserich Krankheit, “the Kaiser’s Malady”—although, like the common cold, what this actually named was less an illness than a set of symptoms. It was only in Reinhard’s final days that the formal name, “Variable Fulminant Collagen Disease,” came into use.

  At the turn of the year, the court physicians were more focused on Hilda and her unborn child, not least because Reinhard h
ad personally given orders to this effect. The pregnancy was proceeding without incident, and Hilda was expected to give birth on June 1—although, the physicians cautioned, a woman’s first birth is often slightly delayed, so the child might come as late as June 10. In any case, barring unforeseen complications, the midpoint of the coming year would be marked by the birthing cry of the most celebrated newborn in the galaxy—and the one on which weighed the heaviest expectations.

  It is often said that autocratic rulers love as private figures but marry as public ones. In Reinhard’s case, however, the question of whether his relationship with Hilda was romantic or not was an awkward one, both in his time and in later generations. What is undeniable is that both Reinhard himself and the Lohengramm Dynasty needed her.

  “Kaiser Reinhard founded the Lohengramm Dynasty, but it was Kaiserin Hildegard who raised it.”

  Among later historians, a rather base squabble would break out over which of them first authored this trenchant observation. In any case, though, there were no objections to Reinhard and Hilda’s union among their contemporaries. This was, no doubt, partly because of Hilda’s father, Count Franz von Mariendorf, whose warm character had earned him few enemies.

  On January 3, the count presented his resignation as minister of domestic affairs. Reinhard’s only immediate response was a slight frown. He discerned the intent behind his future father-in-law’s gesture, but there was no obvious successor to the ministerial position, and it could not be left vacant. In the end he required the count to remain in his service for the time being, denying him the opportunity to bask in a father of the bride’s sentimentality.

  Hilda’s wedding preparations were underway in the hands of the von Mariendorfs’ butler, Hans Stettelzer, and his wife. Their little Hilda, engaged to the kaiser himself! Hans would have liked simply to soak into the warm mineral spring of emotion this summoned, but this luxury was denied him, just as it was to his employer. Instead, he spent his time scurrying to and fro making sure that everything was in order. A wedding was a joyous event, but with less than a month between the announcement of the engagement and the ceremony itself, what a whirl of activity would be required! It was not nearly enough time to prepare a suitable ceremony for the conqueror of the very galaxy. Still, with Hilda already pregnant, a certain haste was unavoidable. Even so, His Majesty moves faster than I would have expected, Hans mused, before hurriedly shaking his head. Such thoughts amounted to lèse-majesté.

  High officials were already gathering at the new imperial capital of Phezzan to attend the ceremony. Among them was the imperial marshal Wolfgang Mittermeier.

  Mittermeier’s family currently included four people: Wolfgang himself; his wife, Evangeline; their adopted son, Felix; and their ward, Heinrich Lambertz. This “entirely unrelated quartet,” as the author of Marshal Mittermeier: A Critical Biography would put it generations later, lived together beneath the same roof, and had at some point settled into a comfortable pattern of family life.

  Mittermeier’s grief over the death of his friend Oskar von Reuentahl still hung like a dense fog in the depths of his psyche, but his position as commander in chief of the Imperial Space Armada kept him tremendously busy—and now there was the kaiser’s wedding ceremony to attend. When he arrived back at the family home on Phezzan, he was greeted by Evangeline’s smile, Heinrich’s salute, and Felix’s vigorous wailing.

  “A child certainly does make a home lively. I wonder if the von Eisenach household is like this.”

  Inhaling the fragrance of the coffee Evangeline had brewed for him, Mittermeier tried to imagine the home life of his colleague Ernst von Eisenach, the “Silent Commander,” but found it impossible to do so. His mind turned to other matters.

  “Tell me, Evangeline,” he said suddenly. “Do you think I could be a politician?”

  Mild surprise showed in his wife’s violet eyes at the unexpected question, but only for a moment. “I’m not sure what you mean by the question, Wolf, but you’re certainly a just and upright person. Those are fine qualities for anyone to have, politician or otherwise.”

  Mittermeier was pleased that she thought so, but he also knew that a state could not be ruled by justice and rectitude alone. His confidence in his military abilities was justified by his record, but he had never even considered whether he had any talent for politics.

  Why did the Gale Wolf end up asking his wife a question like this? The answer was simple: the genial Count von Mariendorf had recommended Marshal Mittermeier as the next minister of domestic affairs.

  On the battlefield, Mittermeier knew neither fear nor uncertainty. He was the finest commander in the Imperial Navy. But when he had heard about the count’s recommendation, he had wondered if someone had slipped hallucinogens into his coffee cup. And then the man who had brought him the news, Admiral Bayerlein, had whispered an additional twist: “If Your Excellency does not take the post, then von Oberstein might.”

  Imperial Marshal Paul von Oberstein and Mittermeier were not political enemies. Mittermeier disliked von Oberstein, but did not interfere with his work as minister of military affairs; meanwhile, whatever von Oberstein may have thought about Mittermeier, he showed none of it on the surface. While Oskar von Reuentahl—also an imperial marshal—had lived, each of the three had had his own authority and psychology, and a peculiar tripartite balance had reigned. But since von Reuentahl’s death at the end of the previous year, the balance was a simple bipolar one, with the kaiser at its fulcrum. Mittermeier had always maintained as much distance from politics as he could, but he was starting to worry about how long he would be able to remain purely a military man.

  II

  After it was formally decided that Hilda would become kaiserin of the Galactic Empire, the Ministry of the Palace Interior and the Ministry of the Judiciary opened a variety of discussions about the Imperial Household Law. Simply stated, the question was: would the kaiserin be solely the kaiser’s spouse, or something more?

  When Reinhard sought Hilda’s hand in marriage, his intention was to have her rule alongside him. But should this be codified in the laws of the state? Should the Imperial Household Law state that “the kaiserin’s role shall not be limited to that of spouse to the kaiser; she shall also reign with him as co-monarch, and in her shall be invested the right of succession”?

  It was a supremely difficult question to answer. Hilda’s sagacity astounded even Reinhard. She was more than qualified to share responsibility for governance. But what of the future? What of the risk that, in future generations, a woman lacking wisdom or ability would become kaiserin and meddle in affairs of state to disastrous effect? Would it be safer to restrict the kaiserin to speaking on matters of state, rather than directing them? Endless arguments were mustered for either side, and the debate continued with no end in sight.

  Of course, from the democratic republican’s point of view, the entire discussion was absurd. A system in which supreme authority was transmitted by blood was by definition illegitimate. Kaiserin aside, what of the risk to state affairs if the kaiser were incompetent, ineffective, or simply unintelligent? Their point was undeniable, but given the autocratic nature of the imperial system, its senior officials could not be lax in concern for the question of what influence a woman might have on its ruler.

  Annerose, the Archduchess von Grünewald, perhaps an even greater influence on her younger brother than Hilda, arrived on Phezzan for the wedding on January 25. A small fleet under Admiral Grotewohl had escorted her from planet Odin—a journey of five thousand light years that was Annerose’s first experience of interstellar travel. She had never even left Odin’s surface before.

  Accompanied only by Konrad von Moder and five other servants, Annerose alighted safely on Phezzan. With this, responsibility for her safety passed to Senior Admiral Kessler, commissioner of military police, who assigned one of his men, Commodore Paumann, to take her party to their lodgings and remain there as gua
rd.

  Annerose arrived at her quarters to find Hilda already awaiting her, out of courtesy for her future sister-in-law.

  It was only the second time the two women had met. The first had been in June of year 89 of the old Imperial Calendar, SE 798, when Hilda had visited Annerose’s retreat in the Freuden Mountains on Odin. That made this their first reunion after two and a half years of separation.

  “I am unworthy of Your Grace’s kindness, undertaking such a long and arduous journey,” said Hilda. After exchanging a few ritual formalities, the two repaired to the parlor. A log was already blazing in the fireplace, and as it warmed the room, gold- and rose-tinted light vied to color it. Hilda thought she recalled a similar sight and ambience from her visit to the Freuden Mountains, and wondered if the hint of a smile on Annerose’s lips indicated that the memory was shared.

  The two sat across from each other on a pair of facing sofas. Coffee was brought in, and as its fragrance hung in the air, Annerose broke the silence.

  “Well, Hilda,” she said. “As of June you will become mother to the empire.”

  “Yes, if all goes well,” Hilda replied with a blush. Her pregnancy was not yet overly noticeable, and skillfully concealed by loose clothing in any case. To most observers, her form was as graceful, her movements as light and regular as ever. But Annerose, as a member of the same sex, may have picked up on a certain soft, curved impression emerging in Hilda’s once taut and boyish face. Was this change emanating from within as she progressed toward motherhood? Hilda would soon find herself in a situation that Annerose never would.

  “As I said before, please take good care of my brother. Making this request is all that is within my power to do. It once brought misfortune on another, who sacrificed himself for my brother’s sake, but for you, Hilda, I wish only happiness.”

  Was she referring to the late Imperial Marshal Siegfried Kircheis? Annerose remained silent, and Hilda could only guess.

  Annerose had been just fifteen when she was snatched from her home at the unilateral demand of a powerful man. Sources show that she was a favorite of Kaiser Friedrich IV for a decade afterward. But how had she felt about her situation? Not even the sagacious Hilda could imagine. Still, some facts were indisputable. For one thing, had she refused Friedrich’s affections, the von Müsels, her birth family, would have been wiped off the face of the planet. For another, she had gone to great lengths to protect her younger brother Reinhard once she was granted the title of Gräfin von Grünewald. Without Annerose, neither Reinhard von Lohengramm nor the Lohengramm Dynasty itself could have existed. She was, in a sense, the mother from which their present historical circumstance had been born. When her brother had become imperial prime minister of the former dynasty and seized dictatorial power, she had gone into seclusion. Had she decided that her brother no longer needed her then? Hilda felt as if she understood, but perhaps this was but an illusion.