Dawn (13 page)

There were sighs of admiration from among the noble ladies. Even those who harbored hostility toward Reinhard—to wit, the greater part of the attendees—couldn’t help acknowledging his incomparable good looks.

His face was like that of a doll crafted from the finest
baici
porcelain, though his eyes were too piercing for a doll’s, his expression too intense and strong. If not for the emperor’s indulgence with Reinhard’s elder sister Annerose and the expression Reinhard wore at that moment, backbiting gossip of sovereign-subject sodomy would likely have been inevitable.

With a brisk step befitting an officer of the military, Reinhard passed through the jumble of onlookers’ varied emotions, coming at last to stand before the throne, where with a reverence felt nowhere in his heart, he bowed to one knee.

In that posture, he waited to be graced by the words of his sovereign. At official functions, subjects were not allowed to address the emperor.

“Count von Lohengramm, your recent military exploits have been truly splendid,” the emperor said, speaking in a voice devoid of originality or character.

“If I may be so bold, it was done wholly through the grace of Your Majesty’s authority.”

Reinhard’s answer had also been lacking in originality, but that was due to calculation and self-restraint. Even if he were to say something clever, he was not talking to someone capable of understanding cleverness, and doing so would only stoke the hostilities of those in attendance. To Reinhard, that one piece of paper that the emperor took from the conductor of ceremonies and began reading aloud was far more important.

“In recognition of thy success in the subjugation of rebel forces in the Astarte star system, I hereby appoint thee, Count Reinhard von Lohengramm, to the office of imperial marshal. Furthermore, I do name thee vice commander of the Imperial Space Armada and place half its vessels under thy command. March 19, Year 487 of the Imperial Calendar, Friedrich IV, Emperor of the Galactic Empire.”

Reinhard rose, ascended the steps, and, bowing deeply, received his letter of appointment. At the same time, the scepter of an imperial marshal was given him. In that instant, Count Reinhard von Lohengramm became an imperial marshal.

Even as a brilliant smile surfaced on his face, Reinhard felt no satisfaction at all inside. This was nothing more than the first step on the long road he had to travel—the road toward taking the place of that bumbling fool who had used his power to steal away his sister.

“Hmph. A twenty-year-old imperial marshal?”

That low murmur had come from Senior Admiral Ofresser, commissioner of the Armored Grenadier Corps. He was a large, well-built man in his late forties; a scar carved into his left cheekbone by an alliance soldier’s laser was a vivid purple. Deliberately left partially unhealed, it announced to the world that he was a fierce and battle-hardened general.

“Since when was the glorious Imperial Space Armada reduced to being a toddler’s toy, Excellency?”

The man to whom he so provocatively whispered was the one who had just had half the men under his command stolen from him by Reinhard.

Imperial Marshal Mückenberger, commander in chief of the Imperial Space Armada, arched a graying eyebrow just slightly.

“So you say, milord, but you can’t deny that the golden brat is a talented tactician. It’s a fact he destroyed rebel forces despite being outnumbered, and his talents have even silenced battle-hardened veterans like Merkatz.”

“Indeed, the man does look like he’s had his fangs pulled.” Casting a glance toward Admiral Merkatz, standing silent amid a row of military officers, Offresser gave a merciless critique. “While it’s true the brat did defeat them, one victory by itself might just be a fluke. If you ask me, all I can think is that the enemy just didn’t know what they were doing. Victory and defeat are ultimately relative, after all.”

“You’re speaking rather loudly.”

Though he spoke reprovingly, the imperial marshal had not denied the content of what the senior admiral had said. Reinhard’s achievement was not an easy thing for highborn nobles and old guard admirals to accept.

The time and place being what it was, however, the imperial marshal apparently felt a need to change the subject. “About that particular enemy, by the way, have you ever heard of a commander by the name of Yang?”

“Let me think … I don’t remember anyone by that name. What about him?”

“In the recent battle, he was the man who stopped the rebel force from completely disintegrating and brought about the death of Rear Admiral Erlach.”

“Oh?”

“He seems to possess quite an aptitude for the work of a general. I have information that even our blond-haired whelp had his nose tweaked by the man.”

“And you’re not glad to hear it?”

“I would be if this were only about Reinhard. But do you think they pick and choose who to fight when they go to battle?”

As might be expected, there was a note of disgust in the imperial marshal’s voice, at which Ofresser awkwardly shrugged his thick shoulders.

In the Black Pearl Room, music was beginning to play again. It was “Thy Courage Doth Walküren Adore,” a piece composed in praise of the military officers who gave their all in service of king and country.

The curtain was now beginning to fall on what for the highborn nobles had been a most unpleasant ceremony.

Captain Sigfried Kircheis, together with the other soldiers of the field officer class, was waiting in the Amethyst Room, which was separated by a wide corridor from the site of the ceremony itself.

Kircheis, as he was neither a noble nor an admiral, lacked the qualifications needed for entrance into the Black Pearl Room. It had been decided over the past two days, however, that he would be promoted to rear admiral, skipping over commodore to a position in which he would be called “Excellency.” When that happened, he would be excluded no longer from elegant ceremonies.

Every time Reinhard climbs a rung in the hierarchy, I get pulled up behind him …
Kircheis trembled just slightly. Although he didn’t think of himself as lacking in talent, the speed of his rise was certainly extraordinary, and it would be disastrous to think it due entirely to his own ability.

“Captain Sigfried Kircheis, correct?” said a soft voice from his side.

An officer who looked to be in is early thirties was standing in Kircheis’s line of sight. He wore a captain’s insignia. He was a tall man, though not so tall as Kircheis, with pale-brown eyes, a sickly white complexion, and lots of early gray in his dark head of hair.

“That’s right, and who might you be?”

“Captain Paul von Oberstein. This is my first time meeting you.”

Just as he spoke these words, Kircheis was startled to see a strange light well up in his eyes.

“I beg your pardon …” murmured the man calling himself von Oberstein. He had read from Kircheis’s expression what had happened. “Something must be wrong with my artificial eyes. I’m sorry if I startled you. I’ll make it a point to have them replaced, tomorrow maybe.”

“They’re artificial? I’m sorry, then—I’m the one who should beg your pardon.”

“No, not at all. Thank to these things, with their integrated photonic computers, I can get along without any disability whatsoever. They just don’t seem to last very long, do they?”

“Were you wounded in battle?”

“No, I’ve been like this since birth. Had I been born in Rudolf the Great’s generation, I’d have been caught and disposed of by that Genetic Inferiority Elimination Act.”

Vibrations of air became sound that just barely reached the lower limits of human hearing, and yet that was enough to make Kircheis gasp. It went without saying that comments sounding critical of Rudolf the Great were grounds for charges of lèse-majesté.

“You have a fine commander, Captain Kircheis,” von Oberstein added in a slightly louder voice, yet it was still nothing more than a whisper. “And by a fine commander, I mean someone who can make the most of the talents of his subordinates. There are so very few of them in the service right now. Count von Lohengramm is different, though. He’s most impressive for one so young. It’s a hard thing for the powerful highborn families to understand, though, caught up in their lineage-obsessed mentality …”

Kircheis’s trap detector was ringing like mad in the back of his mind. How could he be sure this man von Oberstein wasn’t some marionette sent by someone hoping for Reinhard to slip up?

“So tell me, what unit are you serving in?” he said, casually changing the subject.

“Up until now, I’ve been in the Data Processing Department at Command HQ, but just recently I received orders to serve as a staff officer in the fleet stationed at Iserlohn.”

Von Oberstein smiled thinly after his reply. “You seem to be on your guard, Captain.”

At that instant, an embarrassed Kircheis was just about to say something when he caught sight of Reinhard coming into the room. The ceremony was over, it seemed.

“Kircheis, tomorrow …” Reinhard began to say, but then he noticed the pale man standing next to his subordinate.

Von Oberstein saluted and introduced himself, then after brief and conventional words of congratulation, turned and departed.

Reinhard and Kircheis went out into the corridor. Tonight they would be staying in a small guesthouse in an out-of-the-way corner of the palace grounds. It was a fifteen-minute walk through the gardens to get there.

“Kircheis,” Reinhard said as they came out underneath the night sky, “I’m meeting my sister tomorrow. I’m sure you’re coming too?”

“It’s all right for me to come along?”

“Why so reserved at this point? We’re family.” Reinhard smiled like a young boy but then reeled himself back in and lowered his voice just a little. “By the way, who was that man just now? Something about him bothers me a little.”

Kircheis gave a brief overview of the situation and further opined that he was “somehow a mysterious fellow.”

Reinhard’s perfectly formed brows had furrowed slightly as he was listening. “A mysterious fellow indeed,” he agreed. “I don’t know what he has in mind cozying up to you like that, but it would pay to be on your guard. Of course, with as many enemies as we have, being on one’s guard isn’t exactly easy either.”

Both of the men smiled together.

For someone like Kircheis, walking would have been easier, but when a landcar was sent round by the Ministry of the Palace Interior as a token of His Imperial Highness’s generosity, there was nothing to do but get in. The mansion they were bound for was by the shore of a lake grown thickly about with lindenbaum trees, built in a simple, clean style of architecture that fit its mistress well.

When he spotted Annerose’s slender, elegant figure standing out on the porch, Reinhard leapt from the still-moving landcar and hurried to her at a trot.

“Annerose! My big sister!”

Annerose greeted her younger brother with a smile that was like sunlight in the spring.

“Reinhard! It’s wonderful you’ve come. And even Sieg is here.”

“The important thing is that you’re looking well, too, Miss Annerose.”

“Thank you. Now come inside, both of you. I’ve been waiting for you for the past few days now.”

Ah, she hasn’t changed a bit since old times,
thought Kircheis.
That gentle kindness, that unaffected purity … impossible to mar, though all the emperor’s might be brought against it.

“I’ll put on some coffee. Have some kelsey plum cake too. I baked it myself, so I’m not sure if it’ll be to your tastes or not. Try this and tell me.”

“We shall align our tastes to it,” Reinhard answered, laughing. The living room was just the right size, and a relaxed, friendly atmosphere filled its space. The three young people shared equally in the illusion that the spirits of time had moved that room alone back ten years in time.

The clink of coffee cups as they touched one another, the clean tablecloth, the aroma of a slight touch of vanilla essence that was mixed into the kelsey cake … glimpses of a singular joy were reflected in all of these things.

Annerose was wearing a little smile as she sliced and parceled out the cake with deft, fluid movements.

“Every once in a while, someone will tell me the kitchen is no place for a countess, but no matter what they say, I enjoy it so much I just can’t help myself. Though it is a lot of hard work not relying on machines very much.”

The coffee was brewed and the cream poured in. There was homemade cake and conversation without the slightest concern of ulterior motives. For once, their hearts were at ease.

“Reinhard always wants to have his way, Sieg. I can only imagine all the trouble he must put you through.”

“No, not at—”

“You can say what you think.”

“Reinhard, stop teasing him. Oh! I just remembered. I have some delicious
vin rosé
that Viscountess Schafhausen gave me. It’s in the cellar, so I wonder if I could have you go and get it? Sorry to send His Excellency the Imperial Marshal on errands, though.”