The Wolf She Summoned
Emperor.
Empire.
Titles befitting a ruler who governed not merely a region, but the world itself.
Technological progress had rewritten the fundamental conditions for those names. First, every land that shared a culture. Then an entire continent. Then every continent of a planet.
Those who still called themselves an Empire after venturing into space were absolute monarchies that retained class systems — nations that had succeeded in bringing their entire homeworld under a single rule.
From a Terran's perspective, it might seem astonishing that emperors, empires, nobility, and rigid class hierarchies had survived the expansion into the cosmos. Strangely enough, such nations were far more numerous than one might expect.
The Giranlek Empire was one of them.
Its official name was the Heterinos Empire, but in this world it had become common sense — practically universal custom — to use the name of one's homeworld as the name of the nation. Abroad, therefore, it was known as the Giranlek Empire.
Giranlek people were nearly identical to Terrans. The differences were that they possessed hair and eye colors of every variety Terrans could only achieve through dye, and that every last one of them had sanpaku eyes.
Terrans, with rare exceptions, could only produce that look by forcing their eyes wide open. Giranlek people had naturally small irises, so the whites showed on all four sides without effort.
Beyond that, their physical capabilities and bodily structure were virtually indistinguishable from those of Terrans.
In any case, the Giranlek Empire was currently in the throes of a major internal crisis.
A young emperor had been suddenly assassinated. His eight-year-old heir had been crowned the new emperor — only for a half-brother to rise in rebellion as if he had been waiting for precisely that moment.
Whether the uprising had been planned long in advance or not, the majority of the capital's nobility and garrison forces sided with the rebels, forcing the loyalists into flight.
The current emperor's mother — the eldest daughter of House Tenenorn, Empress Dowager Eirin — had been a general who commanded fleets and led countless battles to victory long before she became empress. Together with the Imperial Guard led by her sister, she had managed to escape aboard a warship reserved for the imperial family.
But the traitor who had newly claimed the throne had anticipated this as well. He dispatched pursuers and sealed off every expected escape route.
In the end, the Empress Dowager's party decided to take a wide detour and flee toward the territories of friendly nobles.
The problem was the pursuers who continued to dog their heels.
Desperate to shake them off or at least slow them down, the Empress Dowager began urgently seeking mercenaries — and submitted a request to the Bafelrod Guild, which accepted only the most skilled freelancers and those piloting high-grade machines.
"So that's the situation."
Combining the contents of the request with the information he had pulled up on his Bio Device, Jincheon reacted with clear interest.
"The pay is pretty high, sure, but the other rewards are downright outrageous."
"Right? They're offering hereditary noble titles and fiefs depending on how well you perform."
Though initially intrigued by the request and its rewards, Heliane and Calsira quickly lost interest.
"We're passing on this one, right? You hate being tied down to anything."
"Yeah, let's skip this and look at other—"
"No. We're taking this one."
"What?"
"Huh?"
Both women were stunned that Jincheon — who hated belonging to any organization — would accept this particular job.
"You're just going to take the money and walk away?"
Heliane offered the most reasonable interpretation she could manage.
"I'll decide once I get there."
Jincheon's answer was uncharacteristically vague.
"...Don't tell me you're interested in the Empress Dowager?"
"Bingo. And her sister's pretty tempting too."
House Tenenorn was a prestigious lineage that had produced countless legendary generals throughout Giranlek history, and that bloodline expressed itself powerfully in Empress Dowager Eirin.
As proof, before becoming empress she had personally led her family's fleet and casually dismantled countless pirate fleets and foreign invasions.
Moreover, the sister who had followed her into the imperial court — Tenenorn Beatrix — was said to have claimed command of the Imperial Guard through sheer ability.
Of course, once Eirin became empress she had likely used her influence to plant allies within the palace. Still, Beatrix was known as an assault-type commander who had fought alongside her sister on numerous battlefields.
Weird that they put the family name first, even though the culture seems European...
The Giranlek Empire appeared to have developed from Terra's European cultural sphere, yet oddly enough they used the "family name, given name" order rather than the "given name, family name" typical of most Europeans.
"If she were just some ordinary empress dowager, I'd ignore her. But a legendary general with that kind of command ability? That's a different story."
"...You really just charge in the second a woman is involved, don't you?"
"Obviously. I figure out the aftermath after I've already got her."
Age had deepened his thinking somewhat, but the bullheaded impulse to pursue any woman who caught his eye had clearly never left him.
"Don't worry. The road ahead might look hopeless, but once you're actually on it, an escape hatch or two always turns up. That's what makes life interesting."
Jincheon smiled with the weight of experience and spoke in a voice that never wavered.
It would have been reassuring — if not for one small detail.
"Unnie, snap out of it. He's dressing it up all nicely, but what he's actually saying is that he's going to bring in new women even though he already has us."
"Hah...!"
Calsira's pinpoint summary jolted Heliane back to her senses.
The two women glared at Jincheon with sulky eyes.
"You don't need to worry. Becoming my woman means I'll treat you as a female — a mate. Between a male and a female, there's no rank and no title."
Jincheon considered himself closer to a beast than a human, and so he called himself a "male." By the same logic, the women he dominated were "females" — and he had no hesitation about using those blunt, uncomfortable words.
"We take on supplies and leave immediately."
"Yes."
"...Fine."
The food supplies were scheduled to arrive the next day, so Jincheon's party decided to spend the remaining time preparing — gathering personal necessities and performing maintenance.
Heliane had expected to keep traveling with just this group. The thought of new companions joining them left her a little conflicted.
"Ah, and there's something both of you need to be careful about."
"Hm?"
If he was going to claim Eirin and Beatrix as his targets, there were certain things Heliane and Calsira would need to watch out for.
"That is..."
After hearing Jincheon's words, both women's eyes went ice-cold.
"Ha. This is seriously ridiculous."
"If you'd put that kind of passion into something productive, you'd already be the greatest man in the universe."
They kept pressing him until he gave a clear answer, and in the end he could only sigh and accept their conditions.
A warship of brilliant silver, its hull engraved with intricate patterns.
With its sleek, elegant lines, the vessel looked as though someone had set out to craft a work of art in the form of a capital ship — or would have, if not for the scorch marks and hasty emergency repairs that now marred its once-gorgeous frame.
KRRRRR!
An explosion tore through the ship's flank, sending a violent shudder through the entire hull.
"Kh—! Starboard! The flak screen is too thin!"
Seated in the captain's chair, a woman with magnificent emerald-green hair twisted her face and snapped out the order.
Immaculate white uniform skirt, black leggings, and a dignified straight fall of hair — any Terran who saw her would have thought, She looks like someone of noble birth. The air of refinement around her was that strong.
"But our reserves are—!"
"If we take any more damage, we'll become easy prey! I know it's a gamble, but we have to shake them here! Relay the order — now!"
"Y-Yes, ma'am!"
A crewman started to protest, but the woman cut him off with a second, sharper command that left no room for argument.
The prolonged chase had nearly exhausted their supplies. At the crossroads between seeking immediate safety and an uncertain future, or dying slowly like something being strangled, she had chosen the uncertain future.
As the warship's anti-air batteries poured out a denser web of fire, the enemy mecha that had been clinging to the hull like parasites were destroyed or driven off under the barrage.
With the intensified flak thinning the enemy numbers, the friendly mecha fighting outside found new strength and began cutting the remaining hostiles down.
"The enemy is withdrawing!"
The moment their mecha losses spiked, the attackers began to pull back.
In any war, striking a retreating enemy's back was ideal — but with stockpiles so low, even pursuit was impossible.
In the end, the warship recovered its own forces and accelerated hard, racing away before the enemy could reorganize.
"Haa..."
"We barely drove them off..."
Everyone offered a muted celebration of the day's victory, but there was no real ease on any face.
Behind them, four undamaged cruisers continued the chase without pause.
Our mecha losses are roughly even, but their capital ships are still intact. They're afraid of our main guns.
The Rastold Silverion — the personal flagship passed down through generations of Giranlek emperors.
Through continuous refinement and overhaul alongside the advance of technology, it had become an all-purpose warship whose performance far surpassed even the latest capital ships.
Its only real shortcoming was the absence of a Warp Drive system.
Under normal circumstances, four cruisers could have been reduced to scrap by the main and secondary batteries alone. But the enemy pursuit force kept swelling, and any delay would only allow that force to grow larger still.
"I know the engineers are already working themselves to the bone, but order them to complete emergency repairs as fast as humanly possible."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I have somewhere I need to go for a moment. Contact me immediately if anything happens."
"Understood."
For the captain to leave the bridge in the middle of a combat situation was a serious breach — yet no one moved to stop her.
She had someone she absolutely had to protect.
Ziiing—
She made her way to the captain's private quarters a short distance from the bridge. Inside, a small child in an ornate uniform sat alone in a chair.
"Ah, Mother!"
"I'm sorry I kept you waiting."
"It's all right, Mother. You're working so hard for my sake."
Even at an age when most children would have fretted and complained, the boy answered with admirable composure.
The female captain — Empress Dowager Eirin — drew her precious child into her arms.
The angle was a little awkward, and that very awkwardness only emphasized the voluptuous figure that strained against her tight white uniform — a body no one would have guessed had ever borne a child.
That exceptional physique was partly the result of intensive postpartum care by specialists, but it also owed much to the biological modifications she had received as a child.
Already gifted with extraordinary talent, she had been given the strength to single-handedly thrash several special-forces operatives in close combat, the mental processing speed to support her own judgment, and a superhuman constitution that could naturally heal anything short of a severe disease.
Thud, thud, thud.
"Unnie, it's me."
"Come in."
At the familiar voice, Eirin invited her in without the slightest wariness.
The door to the captain's quarters opened, revealing a woman in a pilot suit of dark pink and white, with the same magnificent emerald-green hair as Eirin and a hime cut that carried both classical elegance and haughty pride.
Commander of the Imperial Guard and Eirin's younger sister — Tenenorn Beatrix.
Both women were equally beautiful and shared a similar air, yet where Eirin possessed dignity and charisma, Beatrix carried arrogance and a provocative glint in her eyes.
"How's my nephew doing?"
"I'm well! Thank you for protecting us again today, Auntie!"
"What a fine boy. Truly born with the makings of a wise ruler."
Outside she presented the rigid face of the Imperial Guard's commander, but in private, with no one else present, she behaved like a doting aunt toward her nephew.
After a brief exchange of light conversation, Beatrix shot Eirin a look that said they needed to step outside.
"I'm busy right now, so I'll head back. I'll come again when I have time."
"Yes, Mother."
Mother and son shared a light embrace and parted.
Once the sisters were outside the captain's quarters, Beatrix's demeanor shifted from "doting aunt" to commander of the Imperial Guard, and she spoke in a grave voice.
"Lord Dalton is dead. He ran out of ammunition mid-attack and got hit by the counterfire."
"..."
"After the next battle — no, during it — we'll be completely out of ammunition. We have to resupply somewhere. Anywhere."
"Haa... I know. But..."
There had been several opportunities to take on supplies along the way. Doing so, however, would have allowed the enemy pursuit force to grow in stages and close a net around them.
To resupply safely, they first had to smash the four cruisers currently on their tail and buy time by throwing off the chase.
"I'm not blaming you, Unnie. I'm saying it's time to make a decision. Either we go somewhere, resupply, and fight without regrets — or we keep chasing this thread of hope until we die slowly."
Most people would have despaired in this situation. Beatrix remained calm, showing the resolute face of someone prepared to follow any order given.
Even if that order was a suicide mission.
"Whatever path you choose, I'll thrash and claw until the very end. I'll get our nephew out of this alive, no matter what."
Having declared that she would trust and obey any command, Beatrix offered Eirin a smile and headed for the rest area.
The enemy could strike again at any moment; she needed even a little rest while she could get it.
Eirin was the heart of this warship. She gave her own cheek a light slap and returned to the bridge.
The first piece of information waiting for her was the worst possible news.
"Your Majesty..."
The officer responsible for posting mercenary recruitment notices across multiple locations — including the free trade city of Keren — reported with a grim face.
"Galdoorn's men — that traitor's subordinates — have posted notices almost identical to ours."
The traitor who had murdered her husband, driven out her son, and seized the throne had placed notices with mercenary guilds and brokers.
The wording differed, but the reward money was nearly the same level.
A fugitive cornered in a disadvantageous position, and a pursuer holding the high ground and closing in from behind.
If both sides offered the same pay, which would a mercenary choose?
Obviously, the side with the advantage.
So he's determined to kill us no matter what.
But she would not simply roll over and die.
"Raise the reward. Credits are rotting in excess anyway."
"Yes, understood."
"And upgrade the title clause as well. Depending on performance, we will appoint them as hereditary nobles."
A hereditary noble was one who could pass both title and territory down through the generations.
"What?! Hereditary nobility is far too—!"
"Right now we must stake everything on survival! Implement it immediately!"
"Y-Yes, ma'am!"
The officer revised the contents of the request. By coincidence, that was the very day Jincheon's party's mecha finished their modifications.
Eirin had no way of knowing.
That this commission would draw in the wolf that already had her in its sights.