“Müller! Are you all right?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Not to worry—I’m quite thick-skinned, especially on my back.” As he delivered this terrible joke, he drew his blaster and raised himself enough to see out of the window. “I think we have to conclude that the entire base is out to get Your Majesty.”
“You say von Reuentahl has betrayed me, then?”
Reinhard’s voice was cold as ice. Strong passions do not always take the form of fiery winds or rumbling thunder; some are more like a blizzard.
But Müller answered without flinching. “I don’t want to cast aspersions on a colleague,” he said. “But Your Majesty has an obligation to avoid danger. If I have slandered him unfairly, let me make amends later. For now, Your Majesty’s safety must come first.”
He had the same earnest look in his eyes as Emil. Reinhard glanced at his young bodyguard and forced a smile.
“Do not trouble yourself with needless concern, Emil,” he said. “I have already resolved to die in a more scenic location than this. A kaiser’s grave on Urvashi—it simply does not sound right.”
The landcar swerved to avoid colliding with another vehicle barreling directly toward it. Reinhard’s flowing hair hit the window glass. Müller fired his blaster from the window on the landcar’s right. Straightening up, the kaiser spoke again.
“If this is indeed von Reuentahl’s rebellion, he will have accounted for everything, to a molecular level. Is it possible we are already trapped?”
Lutz and Müller were silent. Reinhard appeared to be holding a dialogue between his reason and his sensibilities, and even if the words were directed at them, it would have been strange to sympathize with one side or another.
Blaster drawn, Lutz used the other hand to adjust the communications system on the passenger’s side of the dashboard. Finally he succeeded in contacting the flagship Brünhild. Through heavy static, they heard the voice of Commodore Seidlitz, the ship’s captain—who reported that Brünhild, too, had come under attack from the surface of the planet, and was currently returning fire.
III
The military spaceport was already under rebel control. As soon as this became clear, their landcar turned sharply toward the artificial lake. They were alone now, having lost the other two landcars at some point behind them.
Orange light rippled up ahead, providing further evidence that the attack on Reinhard and his admirals was not a small-scale operation.
“Brünhild will take off from the spaceport and then land on the lake for boarding,” Lutz explained.
When they finally reached the lake, they found it churning furiously as flames and smoke poured into the night sky from the surrounding forest. But dominating even that sky was the elegant form of a spacecraft, shining pure white as it glided across the unseen surface of the water toward them. The beautiful, invincible warship Brünhild had come for its only master.
They abandoned their landcar close to the lakeshore and ran toward the Brünhild, which had touched down on the water, only to see a silhouette leap out of the shadowy forest before them. Müller and the others raised their weapons.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Thank goodness you’re safe. Odin All-father has kept you from harm.”
The man’s voice revealed his identity. Under his mask of black soot, he was Lieutenant Theodor von Rücke, secondary aide to Reinhard. Had this revelation come a second later, this loyal retainer to the kaiser would have been shot dead by a colleague of no lesser loyalty—but there was no time for even a rueful grimace at this idea.
Von Rücke’s party had received a false report that the kaiser had already escaped. Upon discovering the lie, he had begun a frantic search for his liege, eventually making his way to the lake—“just in case.”
“Admiral von Streit and the others are waiting up ahead.”
“Then Brünhild shall depart at once.”
“Wait, Your Majesty!” Lutz’s tone was sharp, and the purple light was back in his eyes. “If this rebellion was not spontaneous, the enemy may already be waiting in orbit.”
A heavy silence followed as the party digested this observation. Finally, Reinhard spoke in a voice pointed with displeasure.
“Who, may I ask, is ‘the enemy’? Von Reuentahl, I suppose, even if you refrain from speaking the name for lack of evidence…”
“To borrow Admiral Müller’s expression from earlier, as governor-general of the Neue Land, Marshal von Reuentahl is responsible for guaranteeing Your Majesty’s safety. And yet these are the events that have come to pass. Unfortunate as it may be, I cannot agree that he is unworthy of criticism for this.”
Lutz was not by nature inclined to think this way. Without question, the stories of von Reuentahl planning a rebellion had cast their shadow even on this upright soldier. He was not by any means on bad terms with von Reuentahl, but this was precisely why he had to draw the line in his official capacity.
“In any case, let us continue to the ship,” said Müller. “Even if she remains on the surface, Your Majesty will be safe aboard Brünhild. Any response to these events, I feel, can come afterward.”
The soundness of Müller’s proposal saved both Lutz and Reinhard from further confrontation. The group pushed further into a chaos of black and orange bombarded by alternating cascades of freezing and scorching air from the atmosphere above. The flames called the wind, the wind carried the smoke, and the wild dance of sparks and cinders assailed their ears with menacing song.
A shout went up, and dark figures that seemed cut out of the forest’s shadows emerged to surround them. Soldiers from the Neue Land Security Force. When Reinhard’s five companions formed a wall around him, his dazzling golden mane caught the soldiers’ eyes.
One, standing directly in front of them, gasped, “The kaiser!” His awe was evident not just in his voice but in his entire body. He kept the barrel of his weapon raised, but the finger on the trigger seemed to weaken even as they watched.
Reinhard took a step forward. “You have retained some portion of your senses, then,” he said. “Indeed, I am your kaiser.”
Müller tried to stop him, but the kaiser held him back with one arm as he opened his jacket before the soldiers’ weapons. In that moment, light and darkness themselves seemed his subordinates, existing only to emphasize the young emperor’s beauty and authority.
“Shoot me, then. There is only one Reinhard von Lohengramm, and only one man will go down in history as his killer. Who will become that man?”
“Your Majesty!” Müller tried once more to interpose himself between Reinhard and the soldiers. Reinhard quietly but firmly pushed his loyal admiral back.
The noble-born military leaders of the Goldenbaum Dynasty had coerced obedience through arrogance and bluster, but until this moment Reinhard had never had the slightest need to follow suit. His incomparable achievements and strategic genius had been enough to win the full faith and loyalty of his troops. His streaming golden locks and semi-divine appearance had even made him the object of ardent worship.
“Had Kaiser Reinhard been of loathsome appearance, his men would not have shown him such reverence.” Malicious opinions of this nature could be answered simply: none of those who faced Reinhard in battle had any reason to let him win simply because he was beautiful. His soldiers worshiped him to a degree and in a manner commensurate with his abilities.
In any case, at that moment in the forest on Urvashi, the men of the Neue Land Security Force were clearly overwhelmed by Reinhard’s authority. The barrels of the weapons pointed at his chest trembled so fearfully that they no longer seemed even capable of hitting their intended target.
A gust of searing wind cast waves of orange light across the stand-off. The moment the black shadows gave way to this, somebody yelled, “What are you waiting for? The kaiser has a billion-reichsmark bounty on his head!”
This incitement galvanized several soldiers into action. Just as a few of the gun barrels appeared to stop trembling, a lone soldier at the
back forestalled his colleagues with a cry:
“Sieg Kaiser!”
Even as he shouted the words, he opened fire on the men who a second earlier had been his allies.
When the chaotic firefight died down, seven bodies lay dead on the ground. Seven men were still standing: Reinhard, his party, and the soldier who had yelled “Sieg Kaiser.” Müller had been shot through the right arm protecting the kaiser. Kissling was bleeding from his right cheek, and von Rücke had light wounds on his left hand, but none had been killed—a small stroke of luck amid great misfortune.
The soldier from the Neue Land security force threw down his weapon and prostrated himself before Reinhard in abject apology.
“What is your name?” Reinhard asked him.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Lance Corporal Meinhof, Your Majesty. I was instigated by others, but even so I deserve death for the crime of leveling a weapon at your person. Have mercy, I beg of you…”
“Very well. You are promoted to sergeant, effective immediately. I trust you can lead us to Brünhild, Sergeant Meinhof?”
Meinhof led the way, walking as if in a dream, religious exultation in his face. There was, he explained, a shortcut to the lake, impassible to landcars.
Flames and smoke at their back, they ran through the forest for a minute or so before the newly promoted sergeant was struck by a beam fired from somewhere up ahead that bored a hole into the middle of his face. Lutz returned fire before unlucky Meinhof hit the ground. The man who had shot him took a beam to his own face, and toppled over with a scream.
Lutz leaned closer to Müller, whose right arm was wrapped in a bloodied handkerchief. “We were lucky he was alone, but there will be more,” he whispered. “I’ll stay here and hold them off. You get His Majesty safely aboard Brünhild.”
“With respect, Admiral Lutz, don’t be a fool.”
“A fool? In case you’d forgotten, I’m five years older than you. You owe me more respect than that. I’m only going to carry out the responsibilities of a senior officer.”
“My apologies,” said Müller stiffly. “But the responsibility is mine too. And you have a fiancée, where I have no such ties at all. I’m the one who will stay behind.”
“And what use would you be with one wounded arm?”
“Admiral…”
“Concern yourself with the responsibilities that only you can fulfill. Now, enough formalism, unless you want me to shoot you through the other arm too.”
Müller gave in. Time was of the essence, and he had to admit that Lutz was right. There would be no end to the enemies that pursued them. Someone had to stay behind and buy the others time, even if only a few minutes. If only they had not become separated from the kaiser’s personal guard during the landcar chase—but it was too late for that now. It also pained Lutz that they had lost Meinhof before finding out who had “instigated” him.
Lutz waved away offers by Kissling and the others to remain behind in his place, accepting new energy capsules for his blaster instead.
Seeing that Lutz’s mind was made up, Reinhard took his admiral’s hands in his own. If he succumbed to sentiment here, all Lutz’s loyalty would go to waste. The kaiser had his own path, and only he could walk it.
“Lutz.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I do not wish to promote you to marshal posthumously. Take as much time as you need, but be sure to follow.”
“Your Majesty, I have every intention of accepting the marshal’s staff from you alive.” Lutz retained his composure as he spoke. He even smiled. “I had the honor of sharing the founding of Your Majesty’s empire. With luck I will also share the ease and flourishing to come.”
Lutz glanced at Müller. The “Iron Wall” nodded, then respectfully took Reinhard by the arm. “We must go, Your Majesty,” he said.
Reinhard’s golden hair shone even more splendidly in the firelight.
“Lutz, when you are no longer able to fire, surrender. Von Reuentahl knows how to treat a hero.”
Lutz saluted, but spoke neither ja nor nein in reply. He watched Reinhard and the others leave, offering a final salute when the kaiser turned back one last time, and then strode unhurriedly into the trees by the path to take cover.
The limits of Lutz’s patience were not tested. Ten seconds later, roughly a platoon’s worth of pursuers turned up. Lutz opened fire.
The pursuers visibly shrank from him. They knew Lutz as a great general, but had never imagined that he was such an accurate marksman.
In just two minutes, Lutz’s blaster felled eight men, half of whom died instantly. Despite the flames and the relentlessly approaching enemies, he remained flawlessly composed. Half-concealed behind a great tree, sometimes even taking the time to brush off the sparks that showered down on him, Lutz held the line grimly. When he heard calls for him to surrender, he unflappably replied, “Surrender! And rob you of the chance to see how a senior admiral of the Lohengramm Dynasty dies? Whether you come with me or not, why not watch and learn?”
Then he extended an arm as unbending as his spirit and pulled the trigger again.
It was as if his own will poured forth from the barrel in streams of pure energy. The pursuers seemed to forgot their numbers—each of them returned fire desperately, as if facing him alone. They dove into the forest to escape his deadly accuracy, only to be chased out again by the flames.
As he loaded his third and final energy capsule into his blaster, Lutz wondered when exactly Brünhild would take off. He felt irritation not for himself but on behalf of Reinhard and the others.
The flames flickered wildly. The red and black and darkness and light that had struggled for supremacy above him were pushed aside by an all-illuminating silver gleam. Looking skyward, Lutz saw a warship that every soldier in the Galactic Empire knew. A great bird of purest white, spreading its wings amid a thicket of energy beams rising uselessly toward it from the planet’s surface. The sight was magnificent.
The transcendental moment passed. Lutz saw a thin beam of white light pierce him beneath his left clavicle, and then felt it emerge from his back just beside his left shoulder blade. Pain exploded from the point of impact, spreading to fill his body. Lutz staggered just half a pace backward, frowned slightly, and brought down two more pursuers with two more pulls of the trigger. He pressed his left hand to the breast of his uniform and felt an unpleasant stickiness. Tiny snakes of a dark, wet color trickled from between his fingers and crawled downward.
Still upright, he once more pulled the trigger, which now felt very heavy. As his target spasmed before a backdrop of flame in a brief dance of death, the left side of Lutz’s skull was pierced by a diagonal blast of return fire. A gout of blood poured from his ear. The flames disappeared from his field of vision, leaving only darkness.
“Mein Kaiser…I am afraid I cannot make good on that promise to accept the marshal’s rod alive. I shall await my reprimand in Valhalla—but let it not be for some time yet…”
The soldiers in the forest saw the indomitable general collapse against the roots of a great tree that had just begun to burn. They knew he was mortally wounded, but none dared approach to confirm his death. Only when a mass of fire in the shape of a branch fell onto him from above were they finally sure that their fearsome opponent was gone.
IV
Word of the disturbance on Urvashi, of course, soon reached von Reuentahl on Heinessen. If he was stunned for a moment, it was at least a moment too short for any of those present to notice.
“Find the kaiser and his retinue as quickly as possible and keep them safe. Besides that—Admiral Grillparzer, take a fleet to Urvashi with all speed to restore order and clarify the situation.”
There were no other orders to give. If he had the kaiser in hand, he could argue in his own defense. If Reinhard returned to Phezzan, he would summon von Reuentahl to be judged as a criminal. Punishment aside, to be treated this way over events he had no knowledge of was something von Reuentahl’s pride would not permit�
��particularly when unpleasant figures seemed certain to insinuate themselves between him and the kaiser.
The reports from Urvashi were both few in number and wildly inconsistent, but one horrifying detail was soon confirmed: the fate of Senior Admiral Kornelias Lutz.
“Lutz is dead?”
Von Reuentahl’s voice cracked for the first time. At that moment, he distinctly heard doors closing behind him. Not only had his retreat been cut off, he had lost one possible route from present to future. Any possibility of clearing up the misunderstanding, of letting bygones be bygones and reconciling with the kaiser, had been lost forever. He could not see it any other way.
“What will you do, Your Excellency?” asked Senior Admiral Bergengrün. Bergengrün was inspector general of the military and fearless enough to unflinchingly accept an order to die on the spot, but even he was barely keeping his fear in check. His face appeared utterly devoid of blood.
“It’s just as you heard, Bergengrün. Turns out I’m the first traitor in the history of the Lohengramm Empire.”
“Your Excellency, I know this is a disaster of unprecedented proportion, but surely if you explain to His Majesty that you had no knowledge—”
“It’s too late for that!” Reuentahl snapped, as if pushing his own fate angrily away.
He was innocent. Why should an innocent man have to grovel, desperate and humiliated, to explain himself? Ridiculous, he thought, and the idea filled him like a rising tide. Was this how his service under the kaiser was to be rewarded?
“I don’t mind bowing my head to the kaiser,” he said. “I’m his vassal, so that much is only natural. But…”
Von Reuentahl did not finish the thought, but Bergengrün could supply the unuttered words: But bow my head to von Oberstein and Lang? As he shared his superior’s antipathy to the minister of military affairs, Bergengrün did not dare voice his own opinion. A melody of silence played for about three bars before von Reuentahl spoke again.
“Becoming a traitor is one thing. I can live with that. Being turned into a traitor by others doesn’t interest me.”
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