It was true that the Empire hadn’t mobilized anything.

But, in the Teluva Starzone, Princess Katharin was holding a military parade. “A cheap political shot,” the disgruntled high nobles whispered among themselves. Not many, if any, paid any mind to the fact that Teluva and Thalassa were, at most, three weeks apart.

The Empire had thirty-three numbered fleets left, with the destroyed Ninth and Twelfth Fleets not yet rebuilt. Princess Katharin had mobilized five of them: the First, the Third, the Twentieth, the Thirtieth, and the Thirty-Fifth Fleets. The First Fleet’s former commander was Baron Heron, incarcerated for blatant corruption some time ago; he was replaced by Vice Admiral Valentina, her rank invariably knocked down one rung for the defeat in Alvisa. The other fleets were commanded by officers of modest experience.

Under Admiral Karl’s direct command was 20,000 vessels of the Royal Fleet, with Rear Admirals Thompson and Radbruch commanding 10,000 each. Most curious was Princess Katharin herself, who took direct control of the remaining 10,000.

“Any moment now, Admiral Karl,” she said as she watched the fleets.

“Indeed.”

Bearing banners of freedom and trumpets of democracy, the inva—liberation­­ fleet swam through the black void in confidence. The largely defenseless worlds of the Empire raised the white flag quite early.

The Twenty-First Fleet was just another imperial fleet. It was led by Viscount Holm, a middle-aged, wise commander. He had a reputation of mingling with commoners, giving him quite a bad name amongst high society.

He was drinking coffee with his subordinates in his personal room that evening as his fleet performed the regular patrols. “This is rather boring, isn’t it?” he complained. The subordinates laughed pleasantly.

“I would think a boring but safe assignment is better than a risky one, Sir,” one said.

“Oh, no doubt about it.”

But still, sometimes I want something to happen.

“C-Commander, Sir!” a staff officer came running from bridge.

“Calm down, Lieutenant,” Viscount Holm said calmly, “what’s the matter?” Many aristocrats would whip such “insolent” staff officers, daring to interrupt their rest.

“There’s an enemy fleet detected, Commander!”

Viscount Holm, in hurried but sure steps, returned to bridge. “How many ships?” he demanded.

“O-over a hundred thousand!”

It’s an invasion ..., thought Viscount Holm, curling up his palms into fists.

Anxiety, fear, and panic swept through the Twenty-First Fleet like wildfire. “What do we do, do we fight?” another staff officer asked.

“Moron! Our motto is courage and honor, not stupidity and suicidal tendencies! All ships, retreat at full speed! Communications officers, send word to the Throneworld!”

The Twenty-First Fleet executed a hasty but ordered retreat. The Republic’s fleets did not pursue.

On the Republic’s part, problems were beginning to arise.

For one, a large quantity of supplies somehow vanished from the supply ships. An improptu investigation was held, and it turned out a ring of smuggler-soldiers had misappropriated them to sell in the black market. They were summarily punished, but the supplies had already gone.

Taking advantage of this, the local patrol commanders had, by their own initiative, launched hit-and-run attacks against Republic’s supply lines and ships. Only one week in, the Republic’s commanders had to convene for a new plan.

A few days later, the invasion fleet had captured a number of fertile planets and took the produces there, triggering severe local unrest. Abbas took a shuttle to Tiangong to meet Yue and have dinner and wine, that if undertaken by two non-officers, would be enough for people to suspect some romantic attraction.

“Have we just become looters and plunderers?” Abbas asked with a bitter tone as he poured a glass of wine for Yue and himself.

“Looks like we’re the baddies now,” Yue mocked the situation. “I don’t know what Admiral Potiorek’s thinking. At this rate, the Imperials would muster enough forces to force us out.”

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“What do you think we should do, then?” Abbas asked.

“If it was up to me, we wouldn’t be invading in the first place,” Yue said. Her grip was almost strong enough to shatter the wineglass. “So ... let’s return home, that’s what I’m thinking.”

“We can’t just give up halfway, can we?” Abbas said, a little uncomfortable with Yue’s bold proposal.

“Let’s not fall victim to the sunk cost fallacy, here.”

A grim piece of news arrived as they finished the wine. It was a video transmission of a horde of protesting civilians, complaining about food shortages. They were put down with gas.

On a more positive note, from the Republic’s perspective, at least, a subfleet from the Twenty-First Fleet was routed by Battlefleet Dragon; the former lost two thousand ships.

“Would all commanding and vice commanding officers gather in the Klagenfurt for a general meeting, please?”

The Klagenfurt was Admiral Potiorek’s, and therefore Battlefleet Dragon’s, flagship. Fourteen officers convened there. Abbas was the youngest, and also the lowest in rank.

Admiral Grant proposed something quite new. “Rather than insisting on a frontal attack, shall we not cement our presence in the rim of this region, capturing their supply bases and winning the hearts of the local people?” Admiral Grant had, so far, avoided the factional fighting between Admiral Potiorek and Admiral Tang.

This sensible if debatable suggestion was answered with a bang on the table from Admiral Orban. The bald admiral shouted, “what is that nonsense! Have your honor vanished, Admiral? Your passivity and lack of courage only benefits the enemy!”

“There is no need to go to such lengths,” Admiral Kadita said sternly. Admiral Orban, the product of sheer nepotism—his father and mother were both high-rank politicians—was, in Admiral Kadita’s judgement, probably the worst admiral in the history of the Republic, ever.

Admiral Grant calmly drunk his coffee. This sort of attitude was what spared him the factional fighting.

“We’ll attack!” Admiral Potiorek suddenly raised to his feet. “We will attack, and crush the enemy. By doing so, we will show them the might of the Republic! Viva democracy!”

“Viva democracy!”

This is stupid, thought Abbas.

“If I were the Imperials, I’d be toasting myself right about five minutes ago,” Yue grumbled as they left the meeting room. It wasn’t a meeting; it was just an intimidation-themed farce.

Things were far more—er—serious, so to speak, in the Imperial camp. Viscount Holm, unable to bear seeing imperial worlds fall so effortlessly, had tried to split his fleet and defend some key worlds, but it ended with two thousand ships lost. He was bowing his head before Princess Katharin in her flagship, the Regalia.

“Raise your head, Viscount. I do not punish slight failures,” Katharin said. “At least, we received important data. Gather with Admiral Karl and form a plan to counter the enemy. I will go there soon, as well.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

Admiral Karl’s flagship was the Illustrious, a golden ship of the Regalia-class. Only four ships of this class had ever been produced: the destroyed Imperia, the Regalia, the Monarchia, which was the Emperor’s flagship, and Karl’s own. It was a sign of the favor and trust the imperial family gave to him.

They were watching a playback of the defeat of Viscount Holm’s vanguard when the man arrived in the Illustrious’ meeting room. “Oh, Viscount. Have a seat,” Karl said. The princess arrived ten minutes later. To the surprise of the gathered officers, she took a seat next to Karl, leaving him in the center position of the oval table.

“I think we know enough of the enemy’s psyche to know what sort of tactics they’ll be parading around,” he said. “Everyone, take a look at the way their fleet moves. It is a blitzkrieg, an immediate and quick attack. This is interesting, because the number of ships between both sides was almost equal. Blitzkrieg is usually not the option taken. Therefore, I can conclude that the enemy commander is a very aggressive one, and will likely attack us immediately.”

“It means we have to put up a solid defence, right?” Vice Admiral Valentina said. It was a textbook suggestion: “if the enemy attacks fiercely, defend solidly”.

“We really only have three options, tactically speaking. We can defend, we can attack, or we can retreat.”

“Retreat?” Vice Admiral Dortmund of the Third Fleet scorned. His eyes gleamed with disgust.

“We can defend, but only if we have fleets specialized and trained to defend very, very well; which we don’t have,” Karl said, ignoring Dortmund, whom he had branded long ago as incompetent. “Well, if the Second Fleet is around, we could use that tactic.”

The Empire’s Second Fleet did specialize in defence; though that fleet was not the first fleet that came to Karl’s mind when it came to defence.

“We can attack. But it’ll be like a pack of ordinary wolves against rabid dogs. We’re likely to be overwhelmed.”

“Why don’t we retreat to Fortress Thalassa and wait for our enemy to waste their supplies while summoning more of our fleets? They’re in our territory, after all. We have the advantage of easy re-supply and transportation,” Rear Admiral Radbruch suggested.

“That’s good strategic thinking, unfortunately we can’t let our rim worlds be undefended just like that, not when we have the numerical advantage,” Karl said with the tone and expression of a teacher who really would give their best pupil a perfect grade but had to tone it down to a 90. “The best way to win, I think, is to construct a tactical trap, one where we can launch pincer and enveloping attacks on the enemy. I’ll develop it, and we’ll meet again then. Adjourned.”

As the officers left, Katharin stood up. “You’re as sharp as ever, Karl.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Princess. I am only doing my duty.”

“I purposefully picked younger officers for this campaign. What do you think of them?”

“They all have good potential, except Dortmund, that is. Radbruch was very sharp there. I’m optimistic.”

“Good, good.”

“You were rather quiet, Princess.”

“I still have so much to learn,” she said, throwing away her face.

“Everyone has to start somewhere. You’re a wonderful learner, Princess.”

Katharin nodded. “Well, shall we cut the veins of our enemy?”