Ambition (8 page)

“Well, if it’s Admiral Merkatz, I suppose I could live with that.”

Finding the other aristocrats in agreement, Duke von Braunschweig had to keep his internal tsking to himself and show himself a man of broad mind and generous disposition. Extending all courtesies, he invited Merkatz to his villa and earnestly entreated him to become commander in chief of the coalition forces.

Senior Admiral Wiliabard Joachim Merkatz, a seasoned warrior of fifty-nine, had a brilliant service record and reliably impeccable strategic thinking. In the battle for the Astarte Stellar Region, he had fought alongside Reinhard against the fleets of the Free Planets Alliance. He was known as one of the first to recognize the genius of the man.

Merkatz did not accept Duke von Braunschweig’s request easily.

He was fundamentally opposed to this meaningless war and had been trying to preserve his neutrality when the clash became inevitable.

Merkatz refused, but Duke von Braunschweig would not take no for an answer. For von Braunschweig to be refused after negotiating in person would have left a stain on his authority as coalition leader.

Preaching true loyalty to the empire and to the imperial family, the duke continued to try to persuade him. Gradually, shades of implied threat began to creep into his words, and when their scope came to encompass the safety of his family, Merkatz at last relented.

“In that case, I accept, humble of talent though I may be. However, there are two points on which I want the aristocrats’ agreement in advance. Namely, that they yield all authority to me in matters relating to combat, and that the chain of command be unified. Accordingly, they will obey my orders, no matter how high their position or status may be, and be punished according to military regulations in the event of insubordination. I must have agreement on these points.”

“Very well. Consider them accepted.”

Duke von Braunschweig nodded and soon held a banquet to entertain his new commander in chief.

After this party had wound down, Merkatz, the guest of honor, returned to his office late that night. His aide—a lieutenant commander with dull blond hair named Bernhard von Schneider—thought it odd to see Merkatz looking so clearly heavy of heart.

“Your Excellency, you’ve become commander in chief of the coalition forces, and their leaders have agreed to both of your demands. Maybe it’s just me, but isn’t it a warrior’s dream to lead a large fleet into battle against a powerful enemy? Why do you look so gloomy?”

Merkatz made a sad sort of laugh.

“Von Schneider, you’re still young. Duke von Braunschweig and the rest have indeed swallowed the conditions I set forth. Unfortunately, though, that’s only lip service. They’ll be interfering with operations somehow or other in no time. And even if I do attempt to try them by military law, they won’t just sit quietly and submit themselves to it. It won’t be long before they hate me even more than Reinhard von Lohengramm.”

“Surely not …”

“Privilege is the worst of poisons. It rots the soul. The highborn have been steeped in it for dozens of generations. It’s become second nature for them to justify themselves and shift blame to someone else. I speak like this now, but I was born an aristocrat myself—at the bottom of the hierarchy, mind you—and I didn’t realize any of that until I started working with low-ranking soldiers in the navy. I just hope these nobles can come to understand
before
they find Marquis von Lohengramm’s sword hanging in the air above their heads.”

After sending away the faithful young officer with the dull blond hair, Merkatz turned to his desk and, with clumsy motions, set to work at his word processor. He was writing a letter to his family.

It was a letter of farewell.

There were those among Duke von Braunschweig’s subordinates who sought to avert the clash between the pro- and anti-Reinhard factions. This was not because they held to a position of absolute pacifism but because they saw no hope of victory if they did fight with Reinhard.

Commodore Arthur von Streit was the most prominent of these. He sought a meeting with Duke von Braunschweig and, accepting on himself a temporary notoriety, argued that Reinhard should be assassinated in order to avoid war.

The duke swatted aside the proposal with a single word.

“Ridiculous.”

“But, Excellency …”

“I’ve assembled an army of several million, and I intend to face that golden brat head-on and crush him. That’s what will show Marquis von Littenheim—and the whole of the empire—my justice and my abilities. Will you assassinate that? Do you wish to drag my honor through the mud so badly?”

“Excellency, it pains me to say this, but Marquis von Lohengramm is a tactical genius. Even if we fight and win, the casualties will be astronomical, the flames of war will engulf the whole empire, and harm will come as well to the people. Please, I beg you to reconsider.”

Von Streit’s earnest plea was rewarded with angry shouts.
“ ‘Even
if
we win?’ What’s that supposed to mean! I’ve no need of men who lack faith in our certain victory—if your life means that much to you, go hunker down on some frontier world and grow vegetables or something!”

After von Streit retreated in dismay, a captain by the name of Anton Ferner offered his opinion to Duke von Braunschweig. His argument as well was for a small-scale campaign of terrorism, and he held forth passionately as he tried to convince his lord.

“There’s no need for a force of millions. Just lend me three hundred soldiers trained in covert operations, and you’ll be able to watch it yourself when Marquis von Lohengramm breathes his last.”

“Silence. Do you also mean to tell me I can’t beat that golden brat?”

“Excellency, what I want to say is that if this turns into a major war that splits the empire in half, the catastrophe will simply be too great, and the victor will without a doubt come out hurting as well. Marquis von Lohengramm aims to build anew in the wake of the destruction, so he is willing. But, Excellency, in your position, you have an obligation to preserve the system. For you, it isn’t enough to merely win.”

“Do not speak to me with such insolence!”

Showered with many angry roars, Ferner withdrew from before von Braunschweig, but that didn’t mean he had abandoned his beliefs. He despised his master’s obstinacy and roundabout ways, but like von Streit, he didn’t simply hunker down and leave it at that.

“With things the way they are, I’ll just have to do it myself. Even if I can’t kill Marquis von Lohengramm, there’s still the option of taking his sister, the Countess von Grünewald, hostage.”

He gathered firearms and a group of three hundred soldiers consisting mainly of his immediate subordinates, and then one night, unbeknownst to his master, he attempted to stage an assault on Reinhard’s residence.

It ended in failure, however. The Schwarzen estate where Reinhard and Annerose lived was already under the careful guard of five thousand armed troops led by Kircheis himself. There was no opening for a surprise attack whatsoever.

“I should’ve expected as much of Marquis von Lohengramm and that right-hand man of his. Guess they’re not the sort who’d fall for cheap tricks from the likes of me.”

Having given up on the idea, Ferner disbanded his team on the spot and went into hiding himself. It was certain he had incurred the wrath of Duke von Braunschweig, having mobilized troops without permission.

Duke von Braunschweig, upon learning what had transpired directly from the mouths of soldiers returning empty-handed, was indeed furious and had his men search for the meddling subordinate’s whereabouts in order to punish him.

He was nowhere to be found, however.

“Humph. Ah, well, wherever he is, there’s no place of refuge in all the universe for him now. In the end, he’ll die in a gutter somewhere. Shall we just leave him be?”

Things were moving forward quickly in the present, and getting off of Odin and back to his own domain took precedence over searching for the likes of Ferner. The evacuation plan was drawn up by a commodore named Ansbach. Word was spread around that Duke von Braunschweig would invite the emperor to a garden party at his villa. Invitations were even sent out, but on the night before it was to be held, the duke himself secretly escaped with only his family and a small number of subordinates.

When Reinhard learned of this, he knew right away that the time had come to put his own long-gestating plan into action.

On Reinhard’s orders, Wittenfeld, leading eight thousand armed troops, occupied all buildings belonging to the Ministry of Military Affairs, and with the arrest of Imperial Marshal Ehrenberg he took control of its ability to dispatch formal orders to the empire’s entire military.

As for the anti-Reinhard faction, the greater part of their number had already departed from the capital of Odin, leaving almost no one to resist Wittenfeld aside from a sole captain who stood blocking his way before the door to the minister’s office. The captain suffered serious injury when Wittenfeld drew his personal sidearm and shot him.

The white-haired marshal with his old-fashioned monocle showed no sign of distress even when he saw Wittenfeld stride in through his door. He assumed an attitude that was unperturbed to the point of arrogance.

“And just who gave you permission, you greenhorn upstart, to come barging into my office? I don’t know what you want, but it’s plain to see you know nothing of proper decorum.”

Flashing a cold smile with his eyes, Wittenfeld holstered his gun and saluted with mock respect.

“Pardon my rudeness. What I want, Your Excellency, is for all people to recognize that the times are changing.”

Between the two of them was an age difference of half a century. The old man belonged to a camp that bore its traditions on its back; the young man to one that was trying to upend those traditions.

After the two men glared at one another for a long moment, the old marshal’s shoulders slumped.

Next, Imperial Military Command Headquarters was occupied by force, and Marshal Steinhof, the secretary-general, was also arrested.

By this time, outside Planet Odin’s atmosphere, satellite orbit was under the complete control of Kircheis’s fleet, and the Kempf and von Reuentahl fleets were positioned beyond him in outer space, on full alert.

There were some among the nobles who, upon learning that Odin had been taken over by the Reinhard faction, made attempts to flee, but those who came charging into the spaceports were arrested by security guards under the command of Mittermeier. Even those who took off in private spacecraft found it impossible to slip through Kircheis’s surveillance network. Kircheis dealt courteously with these captured nobles, though that hardly lessened their sense of defeat.

The several who ran to Count Franz von Mariendorf’s estate asking for protection and mediation with Reinhard were among the cleverest of the lot. These were received by Hilda, who won their trust with her lucid and confident tones. Taking care not to sound too pushy, she steadily and surely succeeded in putting them in her debt.

Among those who had failed to evacuate was Commodore von Streit. He had been left behind when his lord and master had secretly departed Odin. The men and women of House Braunschweig had not abandoned him intentionally; from their standpoint, they had merely forgotten him.

Von Streit, placed under arrest and bound with electromagnetic handcuffs, was dragged before Reinhard and interrogated.

“There is a rumor that you advised Duke von Braunschweig to have me assassinated. Is it true?”

“It’s true.” Perhaps he had resigned himself to his fate; Streit didn’t feel a trace of shame.

“Why did you suggest such a thing?”

“Because it was obvious that if we left you alone, things would end up the way they are today. If my lord had only been more decisive, it wouldn’t be me wearing these handcuffs—it would be you. It’s truly a shame that he wasn’t, not only for Duke von Braunschweig’s House, but for the Goldenbaum Dynasty as well.”

Reinhard did not become angry. Rather, he looked like he was admiring the man’s bravery as he regarded him, and at last he ordered a guard to remove his handcuffs.

As von Streit rubbed his aching wrists, he couldn’t help feeling surprised.

“I’d hate to kill a man like you,” said Reinhard. “I’m going to give you a travel pass, so you can go to Duke von Braunschweig and fulfill your oath of loyalty.”

This generous proposal was not greeted with unconditional gratitude.

“If I may prevail on you to hear a selfish request, I would like your leave to remain here on Odin.”

“Oh? Then you won’t return to your master?”

“Yes, milord. My reason is this …”

There was a shade of bitterness in von Streit’s voice. Even if he safely departed Odin and ran straight to Duke von Braunschweig, his master would not rejoice at his coming. Rather, he would suspect him and doubtless conclude that it was due to some secret bargain struck with Reinhard that he had been permitted to leave. Depending on how things went, there was even the possibility of his being imprisoned or executed. As when he was fleeing Odin, Duke von Braunschweig left many subordinates and vassals behind and tended to have little regard for his followers’ sense of loyalty.

“That’s the sort of man he is. He’s certainly not a stupid person, but …”

The commodore trailed off with a sigh.

“I see. In that case, why not come work for me? I’ll make you a rear admiral.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t feel like making an enemy tomorrow of the lord I’ve served till today. Please forgive me.”

Reinhard nodded, gave von Streit an ID card, and set him free.

Captain Ferner had also been among those late in taking flight. Hiding out in the downtown area, he had managed to avoid arrest, but that had had no effect on the dilemma he was in. After careful consideration, he decided to turn himself in to the military police voluntarily, meet with Reinhard directly, and in so doing, carve out a way forward for himself.

Ferner, a man far more practical than von Streit, told Reinhard, “I’ve given up on my lord, Duke von Braunschweig, so how about taking me on as your subordinate?” Nor did he try to hide the fact of his troop mobilization and what he had been planning.