IWBNAM Chapter 5 (Part 1)

5. Antigonos

Reports from the fleet training kept streaming onto the large screen at the front of the bridge. As Kranaha listened to his staff quickly interpret the tangled graphs and explain them, he nodded.

With his promotion to Imperial Marshal came a massive reorganization of the fleet, and considering how many new recruits had been added, the training results weren’t bad at all. They would need more work before they could move in perfect unison, but for now it was a passing score.

“That’s not bad. The NCOs must have worked their tails off.”

He acknowledged the efforts of the generals and field officers too, of course, but he deliberately singled out the noncommissioned officers. They were the ones who bridged the gap between officers and soldiers, and thanks to their dedication, a colossal fleet of fifty thousand ships had been integrated without major issues.

“Yes. The overall atmosphere seems good as well. There were even reports saying there’s less internal conflict compared to other fleets.”

“Good.”

This was how it should be. In the upcoming conquest war against the Union, this super-fleet would stand at the vanguard and crush the enemy. That was the sole purpose for which it had been created. It had to meet His Majesty’s expectations.

Rather than being merely satisfied, Kranaha chose to raise the bar. They would return home with results far exceeding the projections. If they did, His Majesty would be very pleased. For a man born into chaos, who had lived his life on battlefields, what could be more meaningful than having his existence recognized by that man, one as close to a god of war incarnate as a human could be? That alone would be the greatest joy of his life.

“Sir. The intelligence officer urgently wishes to see you.”

It happened then. His aide approached quietly and whispered the brief report.

“Is that so? Let him in.”

Kranaha replied absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the main screen. The senior officers around him remained focused as well, but when the intelligence officer approached, they frowned. His complexion was terrible.

All color had drained from his face, sweat was beading cold on his forehead, his eyes were unsteady, and the hand holding his terminal trembled like someone with a nervous disorder. Was he ill?

“S-sir….”

The intelligence officer forced his voice out.

“Speak.”

Kranaha still didn’t look at him. Important footage was playing.

“Please surround us with a sound-dampening field first.”

“What kind of news makes that necessary?”

Kranaha finally turned his head. If it was something that needed to be delivered discreetly, he could have whispered it. But the moment he saw the officer’s expression, a bad feeling rose in his gut.

His aide quickly activated the dampening field around the command seat. A heavy, invisible barrier dropped like a curtain, cutting off sound from the outside.

“Speak.”

Kranaha ordered. Only about ten of his closest subordinates stood near the command seat. These were the people qualified to hear anything first.

The intelligence officer exhaled shakily and opened his mouth.

“It appears that His Imperial Majesty has passed away.”

A strange silence drifted between the listeners. They stared at each other, unable to grasp the words.

“Your intel seems a bit behind. By about three months?”

Kranaha forced down his irritation and answered calmly. Three months earlier, the late emperor, who had effectively been brain-dead, had been officially declared deceased after political complications delayed the announcement. If not him, there was only one other emperor. This Empire did not have any retired emperor living in seclusion. Even among athletes, only the absolute best were called kings; no one dared use the title emperor.

“We overheard it while intercepting communications from the capital, sir.”

The intelligence officer continued stiffly. Their fleet was too far away to receive direct broadcasts from the capital, but the intelligence division constantly monitored hyperspace communication networks for major news. That was how this information had come in.

“During the live broadcast, an explosion occurred and the transmission cut off. It seems debris struck His Majesty. We tried to obtain more details, but the capital’s entire communication network has been shut down….”

Silence fell. No one dared ask whether they had misheard.

“We’re going to the conference room.”

Kranaha moved quickly. As he turned and headed out of the bridge, his closest officers followed.

One must never speak lightly about the emperor’s life or death, not even as a joke. And now the communication network had completely shut down. Something severe had undoubtedly happened in the capital.

Naturally, someone suggested sending a hyperspace message directly to the Ministry of Military Affairs. But the only reply they received was that the connection could not be established. Faces grew darker. Had His Majesty truly passed away? How could it happen so suddenly? It was impossible to believe.

They discreetly attempted to contact nearby inhabited planets and military bases. Communication with the capital had abruptly stopped, were they experiencing the same? The answer was identical. No communication with the capital.

To keep the general soldiers from panicking, the information was attached with utmost secrecy, and only a handful of high-ranking officers remained in the conference room with grim expressions. Some carefully suggested that they might need to return to the capital.

“If we turn this massive fleet around without His Majesty’s authorization….”

“But the information we just received….”

“Should we dispatch an emergency courier ship? Sending someone directly might be…”

“We should contact the other admirals as well….”

Several cups of coffee went empty in the tense room. Waiting helplessly for communications to resume was torture. Some tried to offer optimistic words, insisting His Majesty couldn’t have died, but even they wore bleak expressions, making it clear they didn’t believe their own claims. Everyone, silently, was preparing for the worst.

“…….”

“…….”

“…….”

In the end, no one opened their mouth, and three hours passed in silence. At last, a report came in that hyperspace communication had been received from the capital.

“Put it through immediately.”

Every gaze fixed on the central holographic screen. Before long, the face of Marshal Graim, Minister of Military Affairs, appeared. His expression… was dark.

-Admiral Kranaha.

Graim opened his mouth heavily. Seeing him, everyone realized the thin thread of hope they had held onto had to be abandoned.

“Please speak, Minister.”

-I ask that you listen with proper decorum. What I am about to say is not light.

Kranaha rose from his seat at once, straightening his posture. A few seconds later, his subordinates all stood up with him.

-As of May 14th, capital time, both His Imperial Majesty the Emperor and Her Imperial Majesty the Empress have passed away.

The concise sentence left the Minister’s lips. The faces of those listening drained of color in an instant. Their eyes widened in shock, and their mouths fell open, letting out suppressed gasps. No one remained composed. It was too horrifying to hear.

“Both of them… you mean both?”

Even Kranaha momentarily forgot to breathe as he asked again. Only a few days ago, both had been alive and well, why? Was this a nightmare? Surely it had to be an ill-omened dream? A stupid dream that would soon fade? It must be.

-A terror attack occurred at the botanical garden opening ceremony, suspected to be the work of remnants of the old nobility. His Imperial Majesty died on the spot. The Prime Minister, High General Hoffmann, and High General Johann Meyer the Younger also perished. The Empress’s injuries were relatively light, but she went into premature labor from the shock and soon followed His Majesty. The Imperial Prince is currently under strict protection in the hospital’s neonatal unit.

“…….”

-Marshal Valois and his family were targeted as well, but fortunately all three survived. Beyond that, multiple explosions occurred simultaneously throughout the capital, and the city is in utter chaos.

“Is all of that truly real? These were all events of a single day?”

He was confused. None of it made sense.

How could such things happen only a few months after the new emperor’s ascension? Barely three months… just three months, and this?

-It is the truth.

“…….”

Kranaha stared at Graim on the screen. Graim met his gaze calmly and continued speaking.

-The Empress urgently summoned Marshal Azani and appointed him Imperial Chancellor. From now on, the Empire will be governed under the Chancellor’s regency.

“Azani!”

Kranaha, barely holding onto his sanity, clenched his fist at the sound of Azani’s name. Azani… Azani…

-The Admiralty requests that you halt training and return to the capital. We will be ordering the four high generals stationed abroad to return as well.

Graim delivered only the objective information, quickly and cleanly. He did not attempt to defend Azani. Doing so would only backfire.

-…This concludes the communication, Admiral Kranaha. We will speak in detail once you arrive in the capital.

The screen went black, leaving Kranaha’s face twisted in barely controlled anger. He exhaled harshly, then forced his breathing to calm and sat down. For a moment, he wished he were a junior officer. If he had been, shouting or acting out emotionally might have been forgiven. But he was an Imperial Marshal, a fleet commander. He could not behave recklessly in front of his subordinates.

“Everyone, sit.”

His gloom-laden voice reached the ears of his men. Their faces were still half vacant from the shock, but one by one, they returned to their seats.

“…….”

“…….”

What should they say? How were they supposed to process this? No answer came, only the sound of breathing. Some bowed their heads, swallowed by despair. Others trembled, unable to contain their emotions.

“I need a moment alone.”

Kranaha himself felt his chest tightening. He left the conference room. With their superior gone, his close aides finally allowed their emotions to spill out.

“How are we supposed to tell the troops about a disaster like this? Damn it!”

The first to speak was the chief of staff. Once he began, others followed.

“How could His Majesty! He was like a living god of war, why would this happen!”

“Someone tell me this is just a nightmare, please. This can’t be real.”

“What was the Captain of the Guard doing? How does a man who can’t even secure a routine event get to call himself Captain of the Guard!”

“I believed without a doubt that the Empire’s future held only limitless glory…”

“Why is it that the people who shouldn’t die always survive, and the ones who must live…!”

Voices heavy with fury erupted. The room felt like a storm was tearing through it.

“Enough. Regain your composure. What has happened cannot be undone. We must decide our next course of action.”

Vice Commander Kratz slammed the table and spoke in a firm voice. Only then did the aides regain some sense, nodding with somber expressions.

“We may have lost both the Emperor and Empress, but the next Emperor still lives and is being protected. There is no need for despair. And the new Imperial Chancellor is competent enough…”

“Ha! In all this chaos, that man manages to survive unscathed. Wonderful. Truly wonderful. And now he gets the Chancellor’s seat, too.”

“Depending on how you see it, he might be the one who benefited the most?”

“Hm.”

“Enough with the unfounded suspicion. A man who would have become Chancellor regardless had no reason to orchestrate something so convoluted.”

The vice commander cut in firmly. The others, seeing the logic, closed their mouths.

“In any case, what we must do is deliver the news to the troops and return to the capital.”

Taking advantage of the brief silence, the aide summarized the situation.

“Yes, to the capital…”

The chief of staff began speaking, then fell silent. Colleagues who had spent years together immediately recognized what he was thinking. Earlier, in their shock, none had voiced it. Or perhaps they all knew but kept quiet because it wasn’t something that should be said aloud.

Diadochoi. In Classical Greek, it meant the successors.

When Alexander the Great, conqueror of the ancient world, died young without naming an heir, the generals who had loyally served him each pursued their own ambitions and plunged the empire into a struggle for power. One of those generals bore a name that modern history remembered well…

Antigonos Kranaha.

The people gathered in the conference room quietly repeated the name of the superior they served. Antigonos. Their esteemed commander bore the same name as the general who had declared himself king after the death of Alexander the Great.

The Empire’s population alone neared one hundred billion. Many gave their children foreign-sounding names according to their heritage, but since the core population was largely European, many ended up with similar names.

It was natural that some parents wanted to give their children names that stood out. Johan, Hans, Marco, Sebastian, Karl… names that would make dozens turn their heads if shouted in a crowded street were considered hopelessly dull.

Most ordinary civilians avoided attracting attention and stuck to traditional names, but some confident parents chose uncommon ones, like those of ancient heroes.

Occasionally, someone would borrow the name of a hero not widely known. Admiral Kranaha’s parents had done exactly that. After much thought, they chose Antigonos for their son. There was no grand destiny behind it. They simply thought it was a cool name belonging to a hero of another age. Neither the parents nor their son assigned much meaning to it.

When Kranaha entered the military academy, some mocked him for having such an ostentatious name despite being a commoner. Because he happened to be large, strong, and looked every bit the warrior, jokes circulated about whether he would eventually “pull an Antigonos” later in life.

Words that had been meaningless teasing at the time took on an ominous tone when Kranaha reached his mid-twenties.

Sirius, the son of the former emperor Quintus, began to display the qualities of a brilliant ruler. With exceptional looks, military talent, and strategy, he lacked nothing. He never lost a battle. Those who witnessed him all recalled the same great figure:

“It is as if the legendary ancient conqueror Alexander has been reborn.”

It was during the time when Sirius’s father, a collateral royal by birth, strengthened imperial authority, and the old noble factions began distancing themselves in protest. The promising crown prince personally sought out talents who could support him. Among the elite but non-mainstream officers he gathered was Antigonos Kranaha.

One man reminded everyone of Alexander the Great, and the other just happened to be named Antigonos, no one could deny how intriguing the pairing was. Some curious onlookers whispered about it. They were careful not to say it openly, knowing they would be punished if caught.

When Kranaha entered the military academy, some mocked him for having such an ostentatious name despite being a commoner. Because he happened to be large, strong, and looked every bit the warrior, jokes circulated about whether he would eventually “pull an Antigonos” later in life.

Words that had been meaningless teasing at the time took on an ominous tone when Kranaha reached his mid-twenties.

Sirius, the son of the former emperor Quintus, began to display the qualities of a brilliant ruler. With exceptional looks, military talent, and strategy, he lacked nothing. He never lost a battle. Those who witnessed him all recalled the same great figure:

“It is as if the legendary ancient conqueror Alexander has been reborn.”

It was during the time when Sirius’s father, a collateral royal by birth, strengthened imperial authority, and the old noble factions began distancing themselves in protest. The promising crown prince personally sought out talents who could support him. Among the elite but non-mainstream officers he gathered was Antigonos Kranaha.

One man reminded everyone of Alexander the Great, and the other just happened to be named Antigonos, no one could deny how intriguing the pairing was. Some curious onlookers whispered about it. They were careful not to say it openly, knowing they would be punished if caught.

It was too coincidental to dismiss as mere chance. Events were unfolding in an uncannily similar pattern. The young crown prince ascended to the throne early due to his father’s premature death, and the man with the troublesome name had risen to become the Empire’s greatest general, newly appointed as Imperial Marshal. So what would happen if the young emperor suddenly died?

Up to that point, such speculation was permissible, like reading apocalypse novels or watching disaster films during peaceful times. What was wrong with imagining a worst-case scenario? Who would actually believe it would happen?

…And yet, that dangerous scenario had become reality. Just when everyone was filled with hope for the Empire’s brilliant future, the person who could have made that future possible died a meaningless death.

There was a successor. The imperial prince, rightful heir of the emperor and empress, existed. But he was a premature infant who could not live without the protection of an incubator. Even if he survived, many would harbor doubts, questioning whether he would grow properly or whether something might be wrong with him.

There were no paternal relatives to rely on. Quintus, being of collateral royal blood, had purged all those who could become future threats.

The premature infant had no strong maternal relatives either. The empress had been born a lower noble, her father long deceased, and her mother, the emperor’s nanny, had also passed away. The adoptive parents she had gained in preparation for marriage had died in the terror attack.

The regent, the Imperial Chancellor, had sworn loyalty, but his reputation was poor. Regardless of his abilities, he lacked popular support. It was doubtful whether he could effectively manage the young, battle-hardened war heroes.

“He gets along with the other admirals well enough to hold a normal conversation. But if the one he has to face is Admiral Antigonos Kranaha…?”

Kranaha’s close aides drank yet another cup of coffee to soothe their burning throats and fell deep into thought. They had no idea what their commander would pursue now.

Would he raise a revolt simply because the emperor was gone? That seemed unlikely. But would he meekly swear loyalty to a newborn infant who couldn’t even breathe on his own? That was equally difficult to imagine.

Let’s say he publicly swore loyalty to avoid suspicion for now. Could he truly maintain a smooth relationship with the Imperial Chancellor, who was now effectively ruling the Empire in the incubator emperor’s place? Even if their past relationship had been good, such circumstances could easily breed ambition. And if the relationship had already been poor…

“If only Marshal Valois had been appointed Imperial Chancellor instead…”

“The Prime Minister died as well….”

“More importantly, humanity is about to have the youngest emperor in its history. Not a fetus in the womb, but a premature infant in an incubator as His Majesty.”

“Shh. Watch your tongue.”

“Ahem… yes, I’ll be careful.”

As idle chatter spilled out, some remarks crossed into dangerous territory. The vice commander looked around at his colleagues with a troubled expression. Some were only anxious, but some showed a strange shine in their eyes. They were men born into troubled times, forged on battlefields. If ambition didn’t stir in them, perhaps they weren’t qualified to sit here at all.