Ambition by Yoshiki Tanaka

a sense of humor altogether. Although still in his midthirties, half his hair had already gone white, and cold light brimmed in his artificial eyes, which housed internal photon computers. His lips were thin and tightly drawn, and his facial expressions contained nothing whatsoever that could be called endearing. The man himself also feigned ignorance of his reputation, no matter what might be said of him.
    “In any case, Your Excellency should remain patient while watching your enemies squirm, of course.”
    “Certainly. I’ll take my own good time.”
    Reinhard, of course, wasn’t just passively waiting. Employing a host of clever tactics, he had incited the highborn nobles to blind wrath while they still hadn’t a prayer of victory. Their hysterical explosions of outrage were exactly what Reinhard wanted. Their own plots against him he swatted aside with the purehearted passion of a young boy chasing beautiful butterflies.
    “There’s really no need to drive the nobles into a corner,” Reinhard said, as his supple fingertips toyed with his friend’s red hair. “It’s enough just to make them think they’re going to be cornered.”
    In point of fact, the wealth and military power of the nobility would have far outstripped that of Reinhard alone had they stood united against him. Nevertheless, the responses of those harried nobles— At this rate, we’ll be destroyed! We’ve got to fight back somehow! —were lacking in reason and seemed to Reinhard simply absurd.
    Reinhard’s mind was no longer that of a boy, but something of boyhood yet remained in his heart. Those who opposed him he hated with earnest, yet whenever he noticed some unique quality in the words or deeds of his opponents—even if it were a quality that could hardly be called attractive—it would arouse in him a certain curiosity. At present, however, he could see no such qualities among the aristocrats, and in that, he felt just slightly disappointed.
III
    Count Franz von Mariendorf, a mild-mannered and conscientious man, enjoyed the confidence of not only the aristocrats but his own people as well.
    Undecided as to how best to deal with present circumstances, he was feeling every day like holding his head in his hands. He wanted to maintain neutrality if at all possible, but was that going to be an option?
    It was on one such day that his eldest daughter Hilda made a brief return home from university on Odin.
    Hilda—the count’s daughter Hildegard von Mariendorf—had only just turned twenty.
    Her darkly shaded blond hair was cut short for ease of movement. There was a hard sort of beauty to her features, yet she didn’t give a cold or harsh impression, a fact likely due to the lively sparkle in her blue-green eyes. Those eyes were practically bursting with life and vibrant intellect, giving more the impression of an adventurous young boy.
    An old man with shiny pink cheeks met her in the mansion’s hall and bent his corpulent body forward in a bow.
    “Milady, it’s so good to see that you’re well.”
    “You’re looking well yourself, Hans. Where’s father?”
    “He’s in the sunroom. Shall I go and tell him you’re here?”
    “No need—I’ll go myself. Oh, can you bring coffee, please?”
    Aside from a pink scarf tied around her collar, the count’s daughter was attired no differently from a man, and she walked through the hallway with a rhythmic step.
    A pair of sofas had been placed by the wide sunroom’s window, and there in the sunlight, Count von Mariendorf sat with his back hunched forward, lost in thought. Looking up at the sound of his daughter’s voice, he forced a smile and beckoned her near.
    “What were you thinking of just now, Father?”
    “Oh, ah, nothing of any great import.”
    “That’s reassuring—to say the fate of the Galactic Empire and the future of House Mariendorf are of no great import.”
    Count Franz von Mariendorf gave a great involuntary shudder.
    His face went rigid, and he looked