IWBNAM Chapter 10 (Part 1)

10. Funeral Period

On Tuesday morning, Senior General Alberto Bertuccio and Senior General Ramon Lopez arrived on the capital planet. The two boarded a shuttle together and headed to the Imperial Palace. The Empire’s first Black senior general said little while accompanying his cheerful, handsome colleague. They had already exchanged a few words over comms on their way to the capital. It was better not to waste energy on unnecessary emotions.

The two, who had last seen him full of life and radiating energy before their departure, now found him lying inside a cold crystal coffin. With heavy hearts, they visited the chancellor’s office.

Chancellor Azani received the two senior generals with proper courtesy, and ended the audience by telling them they must be tired from the long journey, so they should go in and rest well for today. After saluting, the two left the office. Then, without a word, they walked down the corridor shoulder to shoulder.

“I felt that Marshal Azani’s impression has changed. Didn’t you think so too, Admiral Bertuccio?”

Lopez asked in a flat tone.

“I think it was mostly the hairstyle. Slicked-back hair does make someone seem cold and difficult to approach.”

“Is it really just the hairstyle? His hair being down did make him look much younger than his age.”

It wasn’t just the hairstyle. Lopez concluded that inwardly. Marshal Azani’s eyes had also changed. The man who once seemed icy and dismissive of everyone now interacted with others smoothly, showing consideration and respect. Lopez realized it clearly. It was impossible not to notice how much Chancellor Azani was regretting and blaming himself.

“A lot has happened.”

Bertuccio kept his words brief. He knew about the scandal that had shaken the entire Empire as well as the military conference that had taken place a few days ago.

Even within the flagship, many opinions had circulated about the related incidents. More people than expected believed Azani bore some responsibility, and some said that while they did not blame him outright, they still found it regrettable.

Most sympathized with Big Johann Meyer’s state of mind. Having lost a friend who was like a brother, it was understandable that he would vent his resentment toward someone clearly visible.

Bertuccio recalled Chancellor Azani today and the Azani he remembered from before. The difference was undeniable. He had changed so much that it almost felt like his entire personality had shifted, making Bertuccio’s feelings complicated.

As the public assumed, Bertuccio owed Azani a debt. Born Black, he had struggled to enter the officer academy and become an officer, only to have his achievements repeatedly taken from him amid cold treatment and discrimination. Eventually, he fell out of favor with a white noble superior and ended up shuffling between dead-end positions. While he was despairing that this would be his life forever, Azani recognized him. Azani actively recommended him, and thanks to that, he became the Empire’s first Black senior general.

But he had never once approached Azani personally or attempted to form a closer relationship. The only time he spoke to him was when they met for work and he expressed his gratitude for the recommendation. Azani also did not seem to consider him someone who shared a vessel with him. He drew the line clearly, treating his role strictly as recommending talent, not forming political alliances.

It had been that way until now, but Bertuccio found himself seriously wondering if he should change his attitude going forward. Chancellor Azani needed a reliable ally by his side. Among the current senior generals and above, none openly opposed him, but no one knew how things would change with time. Having at least one person who would firmly take his side would lessen the burden on the chancellor.

Ironically, the one who had seemed most likely to become his enemy had attached himself to Azani in the strangest way.

Bertuccio silently mouthed the name of one Imperial Marshal. Antigonos Kranaha. That man had latched onto Azani under the title of lover. Not metaphorically, but literally.

Kranaha and Bertuccio were neither close nor hostile. The man had never acted unpleasant toward Bertuccio, who the public silently categorized as Azani’s ally. Even when they met at the officers’ club, they simply exchanged polite, ordinary conversation. But if Marshal Azani wished it, Bertuccio was prepared to oppose Kranaha if necessary.

“I heard that Admiral Kranaha and Chancellor Azani surprisingly don’t seem to be on bad terms.”

Lopez said. With the state funeral approaching, the officers’ club had temporarily closed. The handsome admiral, who usually loved to chat, planned to keep talking to his quiet colleague until the moment they boarded the vehicle to go home.

“Only on the surface.”

“Hm. From the chancellor’s position, it would be better for him to pretend they get along, for the sake of appearances.”

Bertuccio glanced at his colleague. He did not want to speak that aloud. He had heard that the others were strictly warning each other to watch their mouths. In a closed space, a few people discussing it was inevitable, but he did not want to open his mouth in a place where someone might be listening.

“Why? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

“Given our positions, I think we should be more careful about what we say.”

“I don’t think the chancellor would concern himself with something like this.”

Lopez shrugged as he spoke. Handsome, good-natured, but carrying a slightly frivolous image, likely because of this very attitude of his. Bertuccio shook his head.

“I don’t like being pretentious, Admiral Bertuccio.”

“Admiral Lopez.”

“Tomorrow is the state funeral, but honestly, people will be more interested in the greatest scandal in the universe.”

“……”

“Oh, just so you know, I’m on Chancellor Azani’s side too.”

The man whispered quietly enough that no one else could hear, left a bright smile behind, and climbed into the vehicle. Bertuccio stared with his usual blunt expression before boarding as well. It had been months since he last returned home. As he headed toward the house where his wife and young children were waiting, he smoothed away the tangled emotions inside him.

-Since we’re all gathered, I’d like to hold a dinner, but considering the situation, that will be difficult.

On the comm screen, Marshal Graim added his personal thoughts.

“Let’s try to set something up after the state funeral tomorrow. A meeting between the leadership is important.”

Nael answered positively. As long as it wasn’t a grand banquet, arranging a simple meal together wouldn’t be an issue.

-How did you feel after meeting the two? Public opinion classifies both of them as being relatively close to Marshal Azani.

“In a situation where everyone who remains must unite to overcome the crisis, there is no such thing as my side or their side. I did not sense any subversive intent from either of them. I’ll know more once I receive further information.”

-Retired or not, it seems you’ve placed informants in every key position. Truly frightening, our Regent.

Graim spoke lightly. There was a kernel of truth, but it was close to a joke. Anyone who had reached a high position would have done at least this much.

“Hmm. Actually, I’ve been considering reviving the Public Security Preservation Bureau. Rebuilding it entirely, changing the name too.”

It was the first time he told Graim something he had only informed his closest aides. Realizing the weight of the matter, Graim fell into thought with a serious expression.

-You won’t hear anything good about that. Is the existing counterintelligence agency insufficient?

If he revived the Public Security Preservation Bureau, people would think the chancellor intended to solidify a dictatorship by raising secret police under his command. Even if that wasn’t his intention, there was plenty of room for misunderstanding.

“The Public Security Preservation Bureau was forcibly abolished, and now its functions are scattered everywhere. The inability to integrate them is a major flaw. Investigations into the remnants of the old noble faction are progressing too slowly. The gendarmerie chief and the high police under the Ministry of the Interior are doing their best, but I can’t help thinking it’s not enough.”

-It’s true the progress has been slow…

“This was something I had been planning even before I decided to retire. After my retirement, everything fell apart.”

Graim watched him with a look full of unspoken thoughts, then finally opened his mouth.

-Stop imagining what might have happened if you hadn’t retired. It’s all in the past now. Don’t blame yourself for it.

“Yes. I know.”

Nael spoke calmly.

-Don’t just say you know. Put it into action.

“You’ve gotten more talkative, Graim.”

-As your fellow academy classmate, is this small amount of advice too much? These days it feels like I’m getting more white hairs because of you. Please, don’t overwork yourself and only do what you can handle.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

Nael gave a faint smile. He and Graim had originally been academy classmates, but they had never been close. Yet after the emperor’s death, they grew unexpectedly closer. He had always been someone reliable by nature. Maybe not a friend, but someone he could lean on in urgent times.

-Since we brought it up, may I ask a question that crosses the line a little?

Graim asked with careful restraint. Nael realized what he wanted to ask. It was clearly something related to Kranaha.

“Ask. If it feels like something that crosses the line too far, I simply won’t answer.”

-Are you truly getting along well with Admiral Kranaha?

It was after they had spent the second weekend together. They had stayed inside the mansion and only stepped out briefly, but because there were many guards and staff members around, the atmosphere between them had already become known. Those who had quietly watched them with thinly veiled hostility whispered that the two were only pretending to get along for the sake of pride and face.

Graim seemed to be bothered by those rumors. Feeling that his classmate was sensitive and warm-hearted, Nael spoke calmly.

“If there’s a problem, it might be that he’s too energetic, so nights can be a little tiring. Other than that, it’s not bad. He has some surprisingly cute sides too.”

-Hmm.

“You know it as well as I do. His nature wasn’t twisted or base. It’s just that, well, how should I put it… he was a bit stubborn.”

-I think describing that man’s personality as merely stubborn is quite an understatement.

“In any case, there’s nothing to worry about, Graim. You would have found it amusing if you saw it. He said he wanted to try the Eastern home-style dishes I make, that he can eat kimchi, and that he even practiced using chopsticks.”

Nael let out a small, involuntary laugh. When he remembered how that bastard had behaved on Sunday afternoon, the laughter came out by itself.

-Is that so. Well. Then that’s good to hear.

Graim spoke in a murmuring tone. His face relaxed. Seeing his notoriously secretive classmate smiling with his eyes reassured him. He still didn’t understand how things had turned out this way, but at least he could tell Azani wasn’t under unbearable stress.

“I’m fine. Truly, there’s no problem.”

Nael spoke as he inwardly thanked his classmate for constantly checking on his mental state.

-Next time, treat me to a meal too. What’s the point of being classmates? I’m confident I can use chopsticks better than that grizzly cub.

In the lightened atmosphere, Graim made his request. Nael nodded.

“Of course. Do you like bulgogi? Or galbijjim? If there’s something you want to eat, think about it and tell me.”

-Oh, you seem quite confident in your cooking. I’ll look around and decide, then let you know.

“All right. Tell me whenever it’s convenient.”

-Then I’ll look forward to that meal and leave you for now, Chancellor Azani.

When Graim lowered his head in farewell, the screen turned off. Nael stood for a moment, stretched his stiff body, and looked out the window. The preparations for the state funeral were in full motion.

The predecessor of the Empire was the Kingdom of Lumen. Lumen was a word meaning light in Latin, named with the hope that it would become a light in the dark medieval space era.

Cornelius, the second king of Lumen and later the first emperor of the Empire, decided that he needed to build a palace worthy of an empire. After receiving the emperor’s command, the greatest architects of the era gathered and designed the present palace under the concept of a noble temple protected by pillars of light.

Specially crafted searchlights were installed around the palace built in imitation of an ancient temple, forming a defensive ring of sorts. Seven hundred fifty lights were placed along the boundary of the palace grounds, and two hundred fifty more around the central buildings.

At night, a thousand pillars of light rose upward, surrounding the palace. Anyone who saw them would be struck by the majesty and fall to their knees.

“What a waste of energy.”

Emperor Sirius had responded cynically to the performance of the pillars of light ever since his days as crown prince. It was grand and pleasing to the eye, but the cost of operating all one thousand every night was enormous. He thought it would have been far better to use that money to support war orphans.

He had other complaints besides the cost. He asserted that instead of proving the emperor’s right to rule with his own abilities, relying on structures and light displays to overwhelm the people psychologically was deception and trickery.

“I understand completely. But please, allow us to light the pillars for your final journey, so the night is not dark.”

Watching the pillars of light rise all at once around the darkened palace, Nael asked for His Majesty’s permission in his heart. No answer came. If he had simply said “no,” Nael would have canceled them immediately.

The citizens of the Rosenburg imperial district also saw the pillars of light rise again. Since the palace’s public relations officer had already announced that the pillars would be lit during the funeral period as a gesture of mourning, no one was particularly surprised. But without realizing it, many stared endlessly and began to shed tears. To think that the pillars of light, which had last been lit for the imperial wedding, were now being lit for the funeral. The more one thought about it, the more absurd it felt.

People still remembered that day’s beauty. How radiant and joyful it had been.

On a sunny spring day, a bride in a dazzling wedding dress entered the palace. The emperor, who would lead the Empire into greater glory, held the bride’s hand and made his vows. The citizens watched with joy. They wholeheartedly wished for their sovereign’s happiness. They believed without doubt that his happiness would return to them as their own.

But the light of hope had vanished so easily. The pillars of light they now saw served only to illuminate the final journey of the deceased.

Those who cried easily turned their heads, unable to look any longer. Some closed their windows and drew their curtains, while others saluted toward the pillars of light. As countless people drifted through various thoughts, the night deepened.

The first day of the state funeral dawned. In honor and mourning for the deceased, administrative work was suspended, and schools and the stock market were closed.

The joint funeral for the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the two senior generals was held solemnly in the grand plaza before the palace. The memorial service was scheduled to last about an hour and a half, and the ceremony was broadcast live by the state network.

However, since it was not the emperor and empress’s funeral, public interest was relatively lower. Those watching the broadcast felt sorry for the deceased, but their attention drifted toward the living. With it being a state funeral, all five imperial marshals were present. Among them, two in particular drew the public’s eyes.

This was not Chancellor Azani’s first appearance since his return. But it was the first time he appeared on camera with Admiral Kranaha, known publicly as his lover.

Viewers who had been watching the broadcast casually at home leaned forward whenever Azani and Kranaha appeared on screen. At first glance, nothing seemed strange. Both were acting in a manner befitting their positions.

It was common knowledge throughout the Empire that they had shared another passionate night just days before, yet both behaved outwardly calm. Disappointed that there was nothing obvious to pick out, viewers continued watching closely in hopes of catching at least something.

The conclusion was that Chancellor Azani’s impression really did seem changed. When he had attended the imperial wedding, he had looked cold and unlikable, but after his retirement, as if the evil spirits had been exorcised, he had become soft and subtly pleasant. That impression had remained even after his return. There had not been a single day when he brought back that detestable slicked-back hairstyle.

Today, he looked strangely neat and composed. People now felt they could understand why a certain instinct-driven admiral had thrown everything aside and tried to knock him over, reputation and all.

There had been times when people lamented that the country was falling apart. But dramas that break all expectations are always the most entertaining. People focused on every small movement between the two, wondering if some hidden message was buried within. Each time their eyes happened to meet, each time they quietly exchanged a few words, the viewers grew excited, amusement shimmering in their eyes.

Did the two of them know that they had effectively become entertainers for the masses?

They probably did. Or perhaps that clever chancellor was encouraging it silently. To revive the stagnant atmosphere. Or to tarnish a certain admiral’s image so thoroughly that he would never again dare attempt something as foolish as a rebellion.

But who cared?

That was what the public thought. When would they ever again witness such a thrilling scandal in real time? Enjoy it while you can. Time always flows on. Even deep sorrow eventually hides its traces.

While they were lost in these idle thoughts, the memorial ceremony reached its final steps. After the dignitaries finished offering incense, the funeral procession prepared to move. The imperial marshals also headed to their designated vehicles to attend the burial. Viewers let out a small breath and shared their impressions with friends and acquaintances.

The burial service at the Imperial Cemetery was entering its final stage. After offering words of comfort to the bereaved families, those who had remained until the end began leaving one by one.

Nael stood quietly, watching as earth was placed over the coffin, then turned his body. He briefly met the eyes of Big Johann Meyer, who was supporting Little Johann Meyer’s mother. A silent greeting passed between them. Nael bowed politely to the bereaved again to express his condolences, then walked outward.

“Marshal Valois.”

He spotted the Valois couple, who were about to board their car, and approached them. They were two people who had maintained perfect composure throughout the state funeral. He worried whether the lingering effects of Valois’s injuries might have made it difficult for him to stand for so long.

“Chancellor Azani. My wife and I were just about to head home.”

“Is your body all right? I was concerned you might have been standing too long.”

Valois shook his head with a faint smile.

“Has this Valois grown so weak that standing for a couple of hours is now a hardship?”

“You may be almost recovered, but it never hurts to be careful. And is your wife well?”

Nael also addressed Lady Valois. It was her first appearance at an official event since receiving her prosthetic leg, so she had drawn many eyes. For some, receiving such mixed attention of sympathy and respect could be painful. He looked carefully to make sure this kind and gentle woman had not been hurt by it.

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern, Chancellor.”

She gave a graceful bow. She seemed fully accustomed to living with the prosthetic.

“You must be worried about the young son you left at the hospital. Is César doing well?”

“Yes. He plays every day with the shark plushie you gifted him.”

“Please tell him I’ll send him another kind of shark plushie next time.”

“César will be delighted. Thank you.”

After smiling warmly, she stepped into the vehicle first.

“I only found out recently that my son likes sharks. And here I was, filling his room only with model spaceship toys.”

Valois said this, admitting he hadn’t even known his own son’s preferences.

“The gift a father gives is always the best toy. No need to feel embarrassed. Honestly, if you gave him a play kitchen set, he’d probably love it too.”

“Hm. Really? I’ll have to try it.”

“Play pretend with him. Cook something together for real. Those become memories.”

“It’ll be a long time before he’s discharged. Playing pretend is fine, but real cooking is impossible. The hospital forbids personal cooking inside.”

“Well, why should that matter? You’re an imperial marshal. Even if you caused trouble in a luxury hotel, no one would complain. If you can’t enjoy at least that much power, what’s the point of wearing a marshal’s insignia at all?”

Valois laughed aloud. He was likely recalling the time Azani had ordered an afternoon tea set in the morning and eaten it all.

“Yes. The power of an imperial marshal…”

A complicated expression appeared on Valois’s face. He was a man who disapproved of using the authority of an imperial marshal for anything unrelated to official duties. So the idea of secretly reserving seats at a popular restaurant had never even crossed his mind. He put his name on the reservation list fairly and visited restaurants with just his family, without grand escorts. And what had that earned him in the end?

“I’ve kept you too long. I should go now. César must be craning his neck, wondering when his parents are coming.”

Nael stepped back and urged Valois to board the car. Valois masked his bitter feelings and gave a respectful bow.

“I’ll go ahead. Contact me anytime if something comes up.”

“Get home safely.”

The car door closed. Valois’s attendants boarded the escort vehicle and began to depart. Nael’s own car, which had been waiting nearby, slowly approached.

“Chancellor Azani!”

A deep voice called from behind. It was Antigonos.

The eyes of many people in the vicinity shifted with subtle interest. Everyone knew those two behaved politely in public, but they were still intensely curious about what they might say to each other in private.

“What is it, Admiral Kranaha.”

It didn’t seem like he had come to discuss government work. When Nael asked in his usual tone, Antigonos stepped closer and asked casually, as if it were nothing important.

“Are you heading back now? To the palace? Or going home?”

“It’s too early to go home. Before returning to the palace, I’m stopping by the Imperial Hospital.”

“The hospital? Why?”

Hearing an unexpected answer, Antigonos narrowed his eyes.

“It’s been a few days since I last saw His Highness the Imperial Prince. I may receive three reports a day, but I won’t feel at ease until I check his condition with my own eyes.”

The throne was currently vacant. Only after his formal coronation would Sirius II be addressed as His Imperial Majesty. He was far too young, so they were still debating when to hold the coronation. They believed that waiting at least until the child reached one hundred days would be safest. Until then, Sirius II’s official title remained His Highness the Imperial Prince.

“I see. All right.”

Antigonos nodded, understanding. Nael did not offer for him to come along. Access to the incubator was strictly limited for the infant’s protection. Even Nael planned only to check from outside the special room today, then speak with the hospital staff afterward.

“What is it, Admiral Kranaha.”

It did not seem like he had come to speak about anything important regarding official duties. When Nael asked in his usual tone, Antigonos stepped closer and asked casually, as though it were nothing serious.

“Are you heading back now? To the palace? Or going home?”

“It’s too early to go home. Before going to the palace, I plan to stop by the Imperial Hospital.”

“The hospital? Why?”

Hearing an unexpected answer, Antigonos narrowed his eyes.

“It has been a few days since I last saw His Highness the Imperial Prince. I receive three reports a day, but I feel I must check his condition personally to put my mind at ease.”

The throne was currently vacant. Only after his formal coronation would Sirius II be addressed as His Imperial Majesty. He was still too young, so they were debating when to hold the coronation. They thought it might be safest for the child to wait until at least one hundred days old. Until then, Sirius II’s official title remained His Highness the Imperial Prince.

“I see. All right.”

Antigonos nodded, understanding. Nael did not offer to take him along. Access to the incubator was strictly limited to protect the infant. Even Nael planned only to observe from outside the special room today and then speak with the hospital staff afterward.

“Chancellor, you always seem to be the busiest one. I won’t keep you. Go on.”

“I’ll call you later. See you.”

The exchange with Antigonos ended quickly. The chief of security, who had been silently listening nearby, gave a signal to the attendants and opened the door to Nael’s car.

“Please get in.”

Receiving the respectful bows of his subordinates, the car departed. Nael did not relax his posture, keeping a dignified expression as he looked forward. There were many mourners and soldiers outside. Cameras placed at various locations continued to film the cars of high officials.

He only felt somewhat more at ease when they approached the Imperial Hospital. Nael rested briefly with his eyes closed, and when the car stopped, he stepped out once more with the bearing of a ruler.

Hospital staff guided him to his destination. Soldiers posted at intervals to guard the most precious and special being in the universe snapped into perfect salutes as Nael passed. He brushed by them with an indifferent face. He had long grown used to receiving such courtesy. The novelty of this treatment had faded long ago.

“You have arrived, Your Grace the Regent.”

The physicians and nurses waiting in front of the special suite bowed deeply. Being saluted by doctors with graying hair was uncomfortable, so Nael treated them with polite formality.

“I won’t be entering the suite today.”

“Since you are here, wouldn’t you like to see His Highness the Imperial Prince up close?”

The head physician suggested. Nael shook his head.

“No. I came directly from the funeral. Since ancient times, it has been proper to avoid visiting auspicious places or patients immediately after attending a funeral.”

He did not add that bringing bad energy inside would be problematic. While Western cultures had similar customs, it could also be considered superstition, so the hospital staff looked at him with curiosity. They had thought he was a thoroughly rational man, so it was surprising to see he cared about such traditions.

“Understood, Your Grace. If that is your wish…”

The head physician did not press further. Nael quietly observed the inside of the special suite through the window, then asked the physician a few questions, mostly about health and safety. The head physician continued explaining everything in simple terms, avoiding overly technical language.

“Do your very best. Do not take your eyes off him, not even for a second. The future of this country rests on his existence.”

“Of course.”

The elderly head physician answered with a solemn expression. He was the one who felt pressure nearly equal to Nael’s in this universe. Feeling a sense of camaraderie, Nael encouraged him gently.

“I understand what kind of burden you must be under. Do not overwork yourself. Tend to your own health as you care for His Highness.”

“Yes, Your Grace the Regent.”

After receiving all necessary explanations, Nael folded his arms as a sudden thought crossed his mind. The birth registration for the imperial prince had not yet been filed. He had to decide what date to designate as the official birthday.

The world already knew he had been born on May 14. But that was also the date of his parents’ deaths. He did not want the child’s birthday to become the anniversary of his parents’ passing. That was far too sad.

“For prematurely born infants, how is the birthday usually determined?”

He asked quietly. Understanding the meaning behind the question, the head physician answered carefully.

“Some do use the actual day of birth, but more often the birth is registered in accordance with the original due date.”

“When was His Highness’s due date?”

“July 26.”

Nael nodded.

“Then let him remain in the incubator until that day. It is best that he emerges healthy and strong.”

The most blessed date had been chosen. The next emperor’s birthday would be July 26. The day in May had only been a warning of what was to come. The child emperor would one day celebrate a birthday filled only with joy.

Those who understood Nael’s intention bowed deeply to accept his decision. With an indifferent expression, the regent turned away from them and headed toward the elevator. There was a mountain of work waiting for him back at the palace.

* * *

Thursday, 10:30 a.m.

A military meeting was held with all officers of senior general rank and above present.

Five imperial marshals and nine senior generals took their seats, leaving two seats unfilled. They could have adjusted the seating according to the reduced number, but by order of the regent chancellor, two seats were specially prepared with white chrysanthemums placed upon them. It was the final gesture of respect for the colleagues who had departed.

The attendees set aside their sorrow and checked one another’s condition. Marshal Valois, who had been hospitalized due to injuries, had temporarily returned, and Marshal Kranaha, who had once been considered the prime suspect for leading a rebellion, now sat there like a loyal subject, as if none of that had ever happened. Bertuccio and Lopez, who had been away from the capital for several months, had also returned. If no further incidents occurred, this formation would likely remain for the next twenty years.

Perhaps a few might someday achieve great merit and be promoted to senior general, but among the current senior generals, none would advance to marshal. The authority to appoint marshals belonged only to the emperor or a regent acting with imperial-level authority.

The regent chancellor was unlikely to believe he possessed the right to appoint a marshal. Therefore, until the next emperor reached adulthood, the five-marshal system would remain in place.

It was impossible for the senior generals to feel no frustration at having to stand before the rank of marshal with nothing more to do but look at it, but they resolved not to be greedy. It was already an extraordinary achievement for low nobles or commoners to be addressed as “Your Excellency” in their thirties. They were senior generals, officers above brigadier and major general. Countless brilliant commanders in imperial history had died without ever receiving the marshal’s insignia.

They were still young, so twenty years of patience was manageable. When His Majesty Sirius II took direct rule, he might consider their accumulated achievements and appoint some of them as marshals. Excessive expectations were unwise, of course.

For these reasons, the senior generals held no treacherous thoughts. If Azani had still been cold and unpleasant like before, things might have been different. But the regent chancellor now seemed to value harmony above all else, showing respect and mildness. Anyone who tried picking a fight with him now would clearly end up with the worse reputation.

Was this all calculated?

The senior generals wondered and glanced discreetly toward Kranaha. The man who had once been the most hostile opponent was now seated before them like a satiated and newly tamed predator.

Truly, looking at him made one wonder what human beings even were. But as for the man himself…

Surely that bastard had no idea what others were thinking. He didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. A shameless grizzly cub. And to proudly strut around as if he were some youthful, vibrant lover, unbelievable.

“For the successor to the Capital Defense Commander…”

While such thoughts tangled in everyone’s minds, the meeting continued smoothly. Once the major agenda items were finished, the moment many senior generals had been waiting for finally arrived.

Due to Hoffman’s death, an important post had become vacant. Retaining a fleet commander position was not bad, but if possible, many wanted to seize an additional prestigious title, so eyes sparkled around the table.

“…after careful consideration, the position will be entrusted to Senior General Alberto Bertuccio.”

The results were announced. The forty-four-year-old Black senior general had been appointed. The first Black senior general in the Empire would also become the first Black Capital Defense Commander in history.

“Congratulations.”

“Congratulations, Admiral Bertuccio.”

Congratulatory remarks followed. It was a somewhat expected appointment. Due to the nature of the post, a reckless warrior type was ill-suited for the Capital Defense Commander role. Someone who could hold the rear line steadfastly, rather than someone who excelled in dynamic tactics, was more appropriate.

“I will devote myself fully.”

Bertuccio rose, bowed to Marshal Graim and the regent chancellor, then thanked his colleagues. His normally stoic face brimmed with emotion, and his eyes glistened. He tried to remain composed, but memories of his past hardships had surely flashed through his mind.

“Haha. Are you crying?”

“You’re not actually crying, are you?”

His colleagues didn’t miss the opportunity to tease him. The atmosphere warmed considerably. Casual conversation spread, but no one stopped it. Even the regent chancellor remained silent. In the old days, he would have immediately poured cold water over such behavior.

“Let’s adjourn the meeting here. And don’t forget, dinner will proceed as planned. And the second round of drinks will be at Bertuccio’s expense.”

Graim said with a smile. Compared to last week, the military meeting ended in a far more pleasant mood.

“I have matters to attend to, so I will excuse myself now.”

The regent chancellor, who had remained mostly silent aside from a few comments, rose to leave. Everyone else immediately stood up to pay their respects, only sitting again after Azani had exited the room.

No one was particularly eager to leave, so personal conversations continued for some time. Some stayed longer to congratulate Bertuccio again; others discussed how they would divide and merge the fleets formerly under their deceased colleague.

Valois was popular as well. Because everyone had needed to maintain solemnity at the state funeral, they hadn’t been able to speak freely then. So once the chance arose today, the grown men suddenly became chatterboxes and crowded around him.

“I heard the regent chancellor gifted your son a shark plush toy?”

“How unusual. Aren’t dinosaur dolls usually more popular?”

“That’s true. My nephew adored Tyrannosaurus. The kid memorized every dinosaur name, back then I thought he was some kind of prodigy.”

No one mentioned his wife’s prosthetic or his son’s injury. They did, however, warn Valois not to overwork himself until he fully recovered.

“Yes. I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”

Valois replied, glancing at Kranaha across from him. He had a few things he wanted to say to that man, but decided to hold his tongue for now. Noticing the glance, Kranaha shamelessly changed the topic.

“Did you hear the news from the Imperial Hospital yesterday? It seems His Majesty Sirius II’s birthday has been tacitly set as July 26.”

It wasn’t confidential, so the rumor had already spread within a few hours. The high-ranking officers who had learned the information earlier nodded knowingly.