If Kircheis Had Lived: A Legend of Galactic Heroes What-If
In the far future of the galaxy, where massive space battleships fire arrows of light, Reinhard von Müsel was about to lose his best friend, Kircheis, in a cruel conspiracy. But on that fateful day, Kircheis miraculously survived.
'Thank goodness you're alive...!'
Their tearful reunion is short-lived, however. Strange occurrences begin happening around Reinhard. Sinister rumors swirl among the nobles, a huge war begins to shake the galaxy, and worst of all, his sister Annerose might be the tar
If Kircheis Had Lived: A Legend of Galactic Heroes What-If - Flames Burning at the Depths of Despair — The Night of Awakening
The floor was cold.
A small room in the basement of the Ministry of Military Affairs. No windows. Only the hum of the air conditioning filled the deathly silent space.
Reinhard von Müsel knelt on the floor.
His blazing golden hair clung to his forehead, matted with sweat and dust. His jet-black military uniform was crumpled and creased, and only the silver brooch on his left chest dully reflected the lifeless light.
"...By order, the command authority of High Admiral Reinhard von Müsel is hereby suspended. Until the inquiry is concluded, the officer in question is prohibited from leaving the designated sector of the Ministry of Military Affairs."
The voice of the officer in charge echoed from beyond the iron door.
Reinhard did not answer. His ice-blue eyes remained fixed on a single point on the floor, not even blinking.
Estimated casualties: over eight thousand.
The number spun round and round inside his head.
The moment Kircheis collapsed. The blood spurting from his shoulder. His crimson hair spreading across the floor—that gaze, turned back just once as the enemy dragged him away.
(*Thank goodness. Lord Reinhard is safe—*)
Those were the eyes he had. Eyes that worried about Reinhard more than his own pain, that seemed to apologize for burdening him with his own helplessness.
*Thud.*
A dull sound.
Reinhard had slammed his fist against the wall.
Twice. Three times. The sensation of bone grinding. The skin on his knuckles split, and red stains seeped into the white wall.
"Damn it..."
A voice that was barely a voice.
The moment he raised his fist for a fourth strike—his movement stopped.
The fist pressed against the wall lost its strength and slid down limply.
He pressed his forehead to the wall. Cold. The chill crept slowly across his skin.
He could no longer even shout. Could no longer even strike.
He simply pressed his forehead against the cold wall and went still.
He had truly lost everything.
His fleet. His sister. His best friend.
—No.
His best friend was still "there." Alive. Not killed.
That thought alone was what tethered Reinhard's consciousness from the depths of darkness.
* * *
How much time had passed?
He had no sense of it anymore. Only the hum of the air conditioning filled the room, as ever.
Bundles of damage reports lay scattered across the floor.
One hundred thirty ships sunk. Two hundred eighty heavily damaged. Over eight thousand dead.
A litany of numbers. Clusters of names lined up on paper.
One sheet among them fluttered up in the draft from the air conditioning.
A food supply requisition form. A piece of evidence that resupply had been delayed.
Reinhard's fingers picked up that paper.
"...I truly caused you all so much trouble."
A hoarse voice.
He folded the paper carefully and placed it on a shelf. His hands moved completely differently from the way they had roughly shoved aside the other documents scattered on the floor.
The words Kircheis had murmured as he was dragged away.
"Data."
That single word echoed repeatedly in his mind.
Why, in that moment? Why had he entrusted him with the word "data" instead of his own name?
Reinhard's fingers turned over one damage report after another on the floor.
The combat records from Leutenberg. All the operational data that Krüger had transmitted. He tried to recall their contents.
"...Communications identification codes."
The moment he muttered it, a chill ran down his spine.
The Imperial regular fleet's communications identification codes—an enemy who had seized those could impersonate the Imperial military and infiltrate anywhere.
Even the capital, Waldheisen.
Reinhard stood up.
"It's a coup."
It wasn't about eliminating him. Crushing the fleet was a diversion. The true objective was to seize control of the capital star system by military force.
The Seekwalde Faction Alliance was aiming for the imperial throne itself.
He overturned the papers on the floor. The enemy fleet's movements during the battle. Their withdrawal vectors. The timing of their warp activation. The cooldown intervals.
(*Where did they vanish to? Where did they take Kircheis?*)
The voice in his head was Kircheis's voice.
That day—at the forward base—the fragment of logistics records Kircheis had handed over.
"Lord Reinhard, what are these coordinates for?"
"I'll look into it later."
Records he had ended up never investigating.
The Schragen Reef. An uninhabited asteroid belt two light-hours from the Leutenberg system.
Reinhard's hand stopped.
The records contained traces of supply transports to this reef.
Food. Medical supplies. Restraints.
Restraints.
"...I see."
Reinhard closed his eyes.
Kircheis had already noticed back then. That these coordinates were suspicious. Because Reinhard hadn't acted immediately, this information had become dead weight.
And yet Kircheis had said nothing.
He was always like that.
Never blaming Reinhard, never lamenting his own shortcomings, just quietly preparing whatever was needed next.
Even now—even inside an enemy fortress far away—the information Kircheis had left behind was moving him.
"Wait for me."
Reinhard rose to his feet.
Command authority suspended. No fleet. No allies. No authority.
All he had was his own judgment, and the terminal for the secret communication line that Annerose's lady-in-waiting had used.
He took out that terminal and sent a brief message to several fleet mechanics remaining in the imperial capital.
"From the Brünhild's remaining assets, can you prepare one small craft for solo infiltration?"
The reply came in seconds.
"Possible. But High Admiral, your command authority is currently suspended. If this gets out—"
"It's dangerous. You can refuse."
A moment of silence.
"...That's not for the High Admiral to decide."
Reinhard's lips twisted for just an instant.
(*You people, really—*)
He didn't put it into words.
He closed the terminal and straightened the collar of his uniform.
He placed his hand on the door and stepped outside without hesitation.
* * *
The hangar was dark.
In the vast space lit only by emergency lights, a single small craft sat silently. A modified launch from the *Brünhild*. Its armor was thin, but warp navigation was possible.
Reinhard placed his hand on the console.
He input the coordinates. The Schragen Reef. The estimated position of the enemy fortress.
Just before departure—he took out the terminal one more time.
He sent a short message to the secret line in Annerose's rear palace.
*I will definitely come for you. Wait for me.*
As he moved to press the send button, his finger stopped.
The face floating in his mind was not his sister's.
Crimson hair. A gentle smile.
"Lord Reinhard, you're safe—"
The voice that had worried about him even as he collapsed that day.
Reinhard closed his eyes and pressed send.
Even he was unsure to whom the words were truly directed.
* * *
The engine activated.
A low, rumbling vibration enveloped the entire hull.
Inside Reinhard's head, memories flowed like a life flashing before his eyes.
The promise they had exchanged under the starry sky in their childhood.
"We'll take the galaxy together."
Kircheis, returning to the forward base covered in wounds.
"I'm truly glad Lord Reinhard is safe."
The traces of bruises left on his sister's sleeve.
"You don't need to worry about anything"—his sister, who had said that and tried to shoulder everything alone.
And—that gaze Kircheis had turned back just once as he was dragged away.
Everything was connected to this moment.
Reinhard raised his face.
There was no hesitation.
"I'll make you wait just one more time."
Words that reached no one.
The craft entered warp.
The stars turned into lines of light, his vision distorted, and space itself folded inward.
Blackout.
Whether Kircheis was alive inside the enemy fortress at the Schragen Reef was unknown.
How many hours remained until the coup was executed was also unknown.
Reinhard had no fleet, no backing, and no escape.
Plunging alone into the enemy's stronghold—a reckless battle by any measure, the only path left to him, was now about to begin.
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