Ambition (23 page)

So deciding, von Reuentahl commenced preparations for retreat. With Merkatz as his opponent, it wouldn’t be so easy. This promised to be the defining moment of his tactical career.

On July 9, von Reuentahl set out on the offensive. At various points, he concentrated his military force and dealt the enemy damage everywhere he went.

The confederated forces of the aristocrats, however, were showing none of their former disorder, systematically intercepting their fire as they were. Seeing that von Reuentahl’s front lines had been stretched to their limits, they launched a precise counterattack. This alone showed just how skilled a commander Merkatz was.

Von Reuentahl made no attempt to respond in kind and instead pulled his central fleet backward. In the meantime, remaining forces were changing their angles ever so slightly and spreading out laterally. These maneuvers were conducted in concert, if only for the sake of show. Had one looked at them from the proper vantage point, the von Reuentahl forces would have been seen assuming a concave formation, flanking the enemy on three sides.

Merkatz’s staff officers were also aware of this. To their commander, they proposed that they should reduce their speed of advance so as not to pander to the enemy’s strategy.

On his flagship’s bridge, Merkatz crossed his arms, the movements of von Reuentahl’s army reflected unnaturally in his eyes. Von Reuentahl was a formidable tactician in his own right, and Merkatz wondered if all this fighting wasn’t just some ruse to throw them off as they made their escape …

In the end, Merkatz heeded the advice of his advisors. Because of his allies’ impetuous temperament, the cause of so many headaches, Merkatz had to be discreet when it came to tactics. If von Reuentahl did indeed intend to escape, then he could secure the Schan’n-tau Stellar Region without any further bloodshed. It would have been different if the opponent had been Reinhard himself, but since that wasn’t the case, he wanted to avoid a dangerous gamble.

The aristocratic forces had slowed their pursuit. This von Reuentahl verified, and without dropping his guard, he flexibly adjusted his concave formation while making a careful withdrawal. His forces soon reached Schan’n-tau’s outer rim, and when the distance between enemy and ally widened, he quickly reorganized his entire fleet into a defensive spherical formation and fled at maximum speed.

The Schan’n-tau Stellar Region had fallen into the hands of the confederated forces.

“That von Reuentahl has dumped everything in my lap, has he?”

Upon hearing the report, Reinhard gave a wry smile. He understood all too well von Reuentahl’s decision to abandon Schan’n-tau.

Of course, to Reinhard, a broad-minded soul like von Reuentahl’s was more appealing than that of the simple military man who only grasped things on a tactical level. Allegiance could not be expected of such a man if it went unrewarded; to be his superior officer required constant demonstration of the talent and capability befitting his station. Reinhard rather liked that feeling of tension between superior and subordinate. It was because he did that even the charmless von Oberstein was able to work under him.

It was that same von Oberstein who now spoke.

“Admiral Merkatz has been renowned as a soldier since before you were born, Your Excellency. Things might get a bit troublesome if he’s been given free rein.”

“Free rein? But there’s the rub. I don’t think Duke von Braunschweig is clever enough to let Merkatz off his leash.”

“As you say. The opponent we face isn’t Admiral Merkatz but the ones pulling the strings above him.”

Upon his return to Gaiesburg, Merkatz was showered with all manner of flowery platitudes from his ecstatic brethren, but he returned not even a hint of a smile.

“It’s not so much that our forces acquired it as our enemy relinquished it. We must never overestimate our own abilities.”

A clichéd speech, even for you
, Merkatz thought to himself, but seeing the uncertainty in these noblemen’s eyes, he felt like he had no choice but to start with the basics.

“I see. You’re a cautious man, Admiral,” said Duke von Braunschweig with a trace of annoyance.
A dull man is more like it,
he surely thought—which wasn’t all that far from the truth, as Merkatz didn’t feel anything. Whether such a trait was a plus or minus, he couldn’t say. Despite being decorated many times over, his dullness had likely gotten in the way of his becoming an imperial marshal. Then again, such tendencies might very well have been what had until now kept him from being ensnared in the usual conspiracies that went on at court.

At the end of July, an old-fashioned challenge to duel was sent from Reinhard to the nobles at Gaiesburg Fortress.

The challenge was replayed before the aristocratic forces’ top men on the VTR, and its message was more than enough to fuel their rage.

“Witless and cowardly noblemen,” Reinhard said to them. “Had you even the courage found in the tip of a rat’s tail, you would leave the comfort of your fortress and fight gloriously. And if you lack even that much courage, you would do well to abandon your baseless pride and surrender. It’s the only way to save your lives. I’ll not only allow you to live, I’ll even let you keep enough of your fortunes to feed those blithering mouths of yours. Marquis von Littenheim died a miserable death the other day, as a man of his cowardly nature surely deserved. Should you not wish to meet the same fate, even your feeble minds can figure out the better path to choose at this juncture …”

“How dare that brat speak to us like that?”

The young nobles went nearly insane with anger. That was exactly what Reinhard wanted. When one’s opponents lost their reason so easily, an obvious challenge like that was more than sufficient—that Merkatz begrudgingly acknowledged. Among the young nobles, there was even one who blew off steam by beating his soldiers with an electric whip. That youth had been amusing himself since childhood by whipping the serfs on his father’s lands.

Soon thereafter, Mittermeier’s fleet, the vanguard of Reinhard’s forces, began haunting the region surrounding Gaiesburg Fortress. These were clear provocations. They would parade themselves just out of range of their cannons, drawing in closer and then pulling away, pulling away and then drawing in closer.

Merkatz explicitly forbade a sortie of any kind. There was surely some terrifying trick lurking behind Mittermeier’s seemingly childish game. Though he explained this to the noblemen, they simply wouldn’t listen.

On the third day, they finally snapped. A group of young aristocrats disobeyed the prohibition order and launched an attack on Mittermeier’s fleet.

Mittermeier’s forces were seemingly caught off guard and easily fell into disarray. Mittermeier managed to escape, abandoning a considerable amount of armaments in the process. At least, that’s how it seemed in the eyes of the young nobles.

“He’s a quick one to blow away. Really puts the ‘gale’ in ‘Gale Wolf,’ doesn’t he?”

“You call that a trap? There was nothing to it. Admiral Merkatz is too cautious for his own good.”

Having secured military vessels and supplies in massive quantities, the young nobles made a triumphant return, their chests puffed out with pride. A harshly worded notice, however, awaited them on their return.

“You’ve all gone against the commander’s forbiddance, engaging the enemy when you knew you shouldn’t. A grave transgression, indeed. You’ll be judged in full accordance with military law. I’ll need you to hand over your insignias and your sidearms. Prepare to be court-martialed.”

It was only natural that Merkatz should adhere to protocol. Though they had emerged victorious, ignoring a commander’s order might prove detrimental in the future.

The young nobles were naturally filled with discontent. They had already inhaled the fumes of victory and carried themselves like heroes. Baron Flegel, who held the rank of rear admiral, tore off his insignia and threw it to the floor, shrieking like the lead in some classical tragedy.

“We’re not afraid to die. It’s one thing to do battle with the enemy and to fall on the battlefield, but to be judged by a commander who possesses neither bravery nor pride is more than I can stand. Spare me your court-martial. Let me kill myself right here, right now!”

“Rear Admiral Flegel speaks for all of us!” chorused the young aristocrats. “We mustn’t let him die alone. Let us all kill ourselves so that posterity may know the pride of the imperial nobles!”

It was narcissism to the extreme. Duke von Braunschweig did not rebuke them for it.

“As this is not a matter of
battle
, it is ultimately my right and my duty, as leader, to pass judgment.”

Since learning of Marquis von Littenheim’s death, almost all he had done was stick his nose into Merkatz’s decision making. He stood before these excited young men, speaking in his booming voice.

“Gentlemen, your courage and pride have shown everyone the true essence of imperial nobility. You have dealt a crushing blow to those conceited commoners. We have no need to fear Mittermeier, or even that golden-haired brat assuming the titles of marquis and imperial marshal. We
will
be victorious. And by winning, we will show them that justice is on our side. Long live the empire!”

“Long live the empire!” came the young noblemen’s enthusiastic cheers.

Merkatz had nothing more to say. Perhaps that was the moment his disappointment turned into despair.

“Any minute now, von Oberstein,” said Reinhard.

Indeed
, nodded the chief advisor with the artificial eyes.

After gathering in the flagship
Brünhild
, the admirals were given precise instructions for leading their fleets into their respective theaters of war.

It was August 15 when news of Mittermeier’s rapid approach reached Gaiesburg Fortress. Unlike before, today Mittermeier would be actively attacking with long-range hydrogen missiles.

“The defeated general has come yet again for another shameless loss. Mark my words: no matter how many times he fights, one who loses only begets more loss.”

They had already come to disregard Merkatz’s commands and rules. They boarded their warships and, not waiting for the space controller’s instructions, scrambled to be the first to attack.

True to form, Mittermeier was unable to keep himself from sneering.

“If only those idiotic sons of the aristocracy had stayed in their hole, they could have lived longer. Did they come out only to turn into so much space dust?”

Though he was of the same generation as “those idiotic sons of the aristocracy,” his combat experience and accolades were far greater than those of any of them.

Fighting against a gang who couldn’t even see through the ruse of his previous mock retreat bordered on the absurd.

However, that day they had had it confirmed that Duke von Braunschweig was also heading their way. Mittermeier’s responsibility was therefore enormous. He would have to endure two or three more such farces before the enemy caught on.

Both fleets clashed.

Innumerable cannons unleashed innumerable striations of light. These directional energies knocked out ships on both sides, crushing them, and rays of light from bursting explosions were rent asunder by new lights as well.

It was a short-lived battle, however, as Mittermeier’s army commenced its gradual retreat, choosing not to fight back against the all-out attack from the aristocratic forces.

“Such a disgrace. They’ve run away so many times it’s not even a point of shame for them anymore. Let’s finish the fools with one blow. Let’s seize the golden brat and hang him from the rafters.”

The noblemen let out a cheer, eagerly rushing to their warships.

There was, however, one man who harbored suspicions about Mittermeier’s flaccidity. Vice Admiral Fahrenheit, a formidable officer who had shared the battlefield with Reinhard and Merkatz, maintained an equal distance between Duke von Braunschweig and Merkatz, and bade caution to his young, hot-blooded allies.

“Keep your distance—it may be a trap.”

Which was fully possible. They had to be prepared.