Emperor Frederick V von Nassau was the aging emperor of the Empire. He was 60 years old, and it was showing. He was afflicted by a number of diseases in his youth, making him physically frail. He spent most of his time resting in the Imperial Throneworld of Arcadia.

He had one child—his heir, Princess Katharin von Nassau. At the age of nineteen, high society would expect her to mingle with the her noble peers, and do poetry, or take up sewing, or such similar things. The Princess, however, was instead in a meeting with two of her closest aides, and previously she had been studying military tactics.

Those two aides are Spymaster Klaris and Admiral Karl von Marbach. The former commanded the Empire’s spy rings and kept domestic threats—fanatic republicans, Republic-controlled resistance cells, and, perhaps most importantly, the noble families—under check.

The latter was once hailed as a military prodigy and scored a number of victories over the Republic, but after suffering three consecutive defeats against Republic Admiral Tang that saw nine Imperial fleets almost completely wiped out two decades ago, was now called the “Thrice-defeated Admiral”. The psychological scar of the defeats never fully recovered. Nonetheless, he was loyal and capable.

That day, however, grim news had arrived from the frontier. The Emperor had authorized an invasion of the pesky Republic in an attempt to shore up his—and his heir’s—authority and power, but instead two fleets had been annihilated, and the rest forced to retreat.

The Empire currently possessed 35 fleets with each fleet’s numbers roughly equal to the Republic’s. Furthermore, Admiral Karl commanded the Royal Fleet, which was almost three times the size of a normal fleet. Each noble family also owned private war fleets, though no one family was allowed to own more than six thousand ships. Similarly to the Republic, the Empire also owned smaller, less well-equipped fleets for patrol duties. From a purely numerical perspective, the Empire held a decisive advantage.

“It’s not always the numbers,” Katharin said, shaking her head as she saw the simulation of the destruction of the Ninth and Twelfth Fleets.

“Count Arlesheimer did awful. He should’ve used proper formation to destroy the first fleet, rescue the Ninth Fleet, and then retreat when the other enemy fleet arrived,” Admiral Karl offered his opinion.

Katharin nodded. It was the loss of the Ninth Fleet that hurt her most. Its commander, Admiral Valentina, was a personal friend, and also a commonborn in an era where almost all of the Empire’s fleets were commanded by noblemen. Though not all noblemen were incompetent, and not all incompetent were noblemen, there was a marked difference in quality between tried-and-tested admirals and those earning their station through birth. It made Katharin sick. If the Empire’s officers had been equal to the Republic’s, it would’ve won the war by now.

“Incidentally ... there are two high-ranking officers alive: Commodores Radbruch and Thompson. What should we do with them?” Spymaster Klaris asked. “The Emperor told me to trust your judgement.”

It would normally be a grave offense to refer to the Emperor as merely “the Emperor”; the proper phrase would be “His Majesty the Emperor”. However, this emperor was unusually lenient with his subjects, especially such close ones.

“Father—the Emperor did? I’m honored.”

The Imperial Fleet was—at least nominally—the property of the Emperor, who was able to bestow promotions and demotions at his will (theoretically).

Katharin closed her eyes and turned the gears of her brain. It would’ve been easy to execute and blame the loss on them; a classic tactic of many previous emperors. But it would be unfair. That was what she believed.

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“Promote them by one rank. But give them some do-nothing jobs for a while and keep them out of public sight. Admiral Karl, if you will, please train them in tactics further. We’ll be needing their strength.”

The two loyal vassals nodded slightly. This was also a breach of decorum; royals ought to be bowed to, not merely nodded to. The Princess rewatched the simulation. “Who’s the commander of the first enemy fleet?”

“That’s Battlefleet Datura, led by Admiral Robert Falkenhausen. However, he was injured early in battle and a man by the name of Captain Abbas al-Salem took over,” Klaris answered.

“I’m not familiar with that name.”

“You shouldn’t be. He has been unremarkable so far.”

“Keep tabs on him. He’s showing real promise there. What about the second fleet?”

“It is Battlefleet Chiyou, led by Admiral Tang Jinhua.”

A small tremor ran its course through Admiral Karl’s hands, but he steadied quickly. “Not much Count Arlesheimer could’ve done against her,” he commented. “They’re on entirely different levels.”

“She’s quite a troublesome foe. We’ll need to get rid of her, one way or another. We don’t have to defeat her in the battlefield to take her down,” Katharin said. “Klaris, look into it. Though it’s not a high priority.”

The Princess stood up. Her vassals bowed slightly as she left. A princess of the Empire had many events to attend. The most urgent, at this point, was the funeral of Count Arlesheimer.

She deactivated herself mentally during the funeral of Count Arlesheimer. She offered some textbook words of condolences to the Count’s family, as was expected. The chief reason was that Count Arlesheimer was a relative of one of the Empire’s most powerful noble families, House Gerlach, through marriage to one of the House’s daughters.

“Your Royal Highness, it is an honor for us,” said the elderly head of House Gerlach, Alexander von Gerlach.

“It is only natural that I should be here. Count Arlesheimer is a great nobleman who has done many things for the nation.”

Such as destroying an entire fleet for no gain whatsoever, Katharin seemed poised to add.

There was little sincerity in both of them. One of House Gerlach’s members was particularly notable: Elizabeth von Nassau, niece of the Emperor, had married Cornelius von Gerlach and bore the family a prized son, still in infancy. This son was House Gerlach’s ace weapon: with (some) royal blood, it is this son whom they’ll use to claim the throne. Even if the Emperor declared Katharin his successor, as he had done, they wouldn’t simply accept it.

The Emperor in question was visiting a graveyard. It was that of his wife and Empress. So many things have been very heavy in his heart.

The war, for one. The Empire’s military was rotting. Its industries were vast and machineries were advanced, but leadership was sorely lacking. In the 30 years of his leadership, the Empire had lost more than it won.

Because it had won nothing. Every single time the Empire launched an expedition, it always failed. Sometimes they’d take a few dozen or hundred star systems, or destroyed a number of enemy fleets. Yet they’d always be beaten back.

Truthfully, he yearned to focus inwards. If he could, he’d sign a peace deal with the Republic immediately. As it was now, he’d already turned a blind eye to the merchantile dealings between the merchants of both sides. He’d rebuild the economy, and strengthen the industry. And yet ....

The Emperor’s wrath emerged. Time and time again, it was the majority of the nobility who sought to make war. Inspired by practically all previous emperors, who were warmongerers, they dreamed of crushing the Republic. Rainfall poured in, but one of his loyal vassals, Admiral Karl, swiftly placed an umbrella over him.

“It’s a long road for our daughter, Theresa,” the Emperor said to the grave of his wife. “I’m not long for this world. I’ll be joining you soon.”

The Emperor coughed wildly a few times. “I’m a failure of an Emperor, and a failure of a father,” he said bitterly. “Once I pass away, House Gerlach and many other nobles will rise up in rebellion to dethrone Katharin ... but you’d know that. You were much more politically savvy than I am. If only you were still alive ....” Empress Theresa was also the previous Imperial Spymaster.

“I’m sorry, Theresa.”

Admiral Karl, choosing his words very, very carefully, spoke up in his middle-aged voice. “You shouldn’t worry, Your Majesty. Her Royal Highness will be a fine Empress. And even if your enemies are many, you have many allies as well.”

The Emperor looked at his vassal’s eyes. His Empress owned what their enemies called the “All-seeing eyes”—eyes that could pierce through any lies and discern one’s psychological makeup. The Emperor had learned part of these skills, and he saw only loyalty in Karl’s blue eyes.

“I’ll be relying on you, Admiral.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The year was 2601, and it still had ten more months under its name. The year that would shake the universe was yet to end ....