Oh, things were way, way, more jubilant in the Empire. The Emperor announced a one-rank promotion for all personnel involved (except those ranked admirals, except Karl), and a rest period of two months. This meant that, after 70 something years, the Empire would have a Marshal who's not promoted posthumously.

Karl von Marbach knelt before the Emperor. "Admiral Karl von Marbach, your achievements have been magnificent. I hereby name you Marshal of the Empire. I also hereby name you Duke of Ventii. Emperor Fredrick V."

Karl smiled faintly. "My achievements are due to the grace of Your Majesty," he said as he received his baton, a glorified iron stick covered in gold and silver, adorned with a ruby.

This is way too much pomp, he thought, though he was fully aware of the necessity of it.

A number of hours later, Katharin gathered her most trusted advisors again to discuss the effects of the recent victory. The members of this kind of gathering would be named the "Hands of the Princess" by historians. In this particular meeting, Spymaster Klaris proposed a particular item.

"An exchange of prisoners?" Katharin said, her brows quivering. "Is that something politically feasible?"

Karl squirmed a little. "It's perfectly feasible," Klaris replied. "Now that we're in an advantageous situation, we have enough leeway. They took a lot of prisoners at Alvisa, and we took only a few at Ventii, but the damage to their military should be great enough that an exchange would be accepted, unbalanced quantitatively as it may be."

Of course, Klaris skimmed over the Ventii part, since she didn't want to remind the princess who exactly bungled the epilogue of that one.

"How's the reaction in the Republic?"

"Well, the main impact is on their general election," Klaris answered. "Previously, the Whitmore faction held a small advantage–roughly 55 percent against the Flares' 45 percent. Currently, the numbers are around 40 percent for the Whitmores and 60 percent for the Flares."

Katharin let out a low laugh. "It's a funny thing, this ideology they call democracy, isn't it?" she said. "Just a thing or two, and their votes can swing left and right."

"It is to be expected. After all, the Whitmore politicians planned this attack to bolster their popularity," Klaris added.

"They throw away a few hundred million lives for an election?" Katharin mocked. "Stupid. Also, what about the investigation that I asked?"

"Of course, I've done it."

Klaris showed a projection of two persons. "Yue Fangling, 28 years old, currently holding the rank of Vice Admiral, commander of Battlefleet Isolde. Abbas al-Salem, 22 years old, currently holding the rank of Rear Admiral, Chief-of-Staff of Battlefleet Chiyou. These two were the ones who held command over the rear guard at Ventii."

"It appears that they're both orphans, with no notable family members to speak of. They live in the military complex normally, but they're currently on vacation together."

Klaris showed little to no emotion; she was perfectly stoic as she observed her princess' grumbling expression.

"Both of them will be trouble in the future."

Holding back the instinct to say "no shit", Klaris replied: "Yes. Shall I arrange an assassination? Should be relatively easy."

Karl, who had stayed silent, raised his voice. "You can't assassinate willy-nilly like that. Last half dozen times, it failed pathetically."

"You are a military man, Marshal. But not everything can be solved with ship-to-ship combat. We're a nation, not gladiators."

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Katharin raised her hand, prompting silence just as Karl was about to speak again. "Continue monitoring these two. No need to take action ... yet."

Too late, Klaris realized the princess royal has a good deal of pride in her. After that uppity Abbas had stained a perfect imperial victory, there was no way Katharin could sit there and swallow it without concocting a plan to repay the humiliation with interest.

Someone knocked on the door. "Come in!" Katharin's sharp voice ordered. It was the imperial family's court physician, a man by the name of August. He was a man of age fifty or so, an experienced and skilled doctor.

"August, what brings you here?" Katharin asked, with her voice a little shaky.

"His Majesty the Emperor suffered a small stroke this morning, but has since recovered almost fully. His Majesty requests that Your Royal Highness focus on Your Royal Highness' tasks and not worry about His Majesty."

"I see ... dismissed, if nothing else."

A grim smile came to Katharin's lips. "Father won't be alive for too long ...," she pondered. The inevitability of death was one she could accept. It was one that her father taught her to accept.

"On that matter, a number of marriage proposals have been thrown at us from notable noble families," Klaris said, prompting a frown from both Karl and Katharin.

"Awfully opportunistic, aren't they?" he said.

Katharin's young age and her status meant she was prime marriage target. In noble families, both sons and daughters were often used as fodder to build or maintain alliances. Katharin dismissed Klaris' concerns with a swing of her hand. "Delay them as much as you can," she ordered.

"Of course, Princess.”

Some months after Ventii, Abbas assumed his new post as Chief-of-Staff of Battlefleet Chiyou. It is around this time that the general elections were held. It would take at least five months to count all the votes.

Prior to the elections, the Empire’s proposal for a prisoner exchange was accepted by the Republic’s ruling council in yet another desperate attempt to prop up their popularity—which worked a little.

Strictly speaking, there was no war between the Empire and the Republic. Both sides acknowledge the other as “separatist states”, “rebels”, or some such. The roots of this nonsensical state of affairs could be traced back to the founding of the United Space Nations, a gargantuan democratic state that stood for six hundred years. Its founding was a historical achievement, proof that humanity could shed its old national and tribal identities to unite and rule space together.

Alas, it was not to last. A series of crises, raising food prices, shortage of goods, and a slew of other issues stemming from corrupt administrations and a slothful citizenry gave birth to a brutal conflict as Emperor Truvach, formerly Defense Minister, raised a popular rebellion that would become the Empire. The democratic forces suffered defeat after defeat, until they managed to turn the tide and stabilized the lines, transforming into the current Republic.

Nevertheless, it was a fact that people fought. People died. People suffered. And people were captured.

For this prisoner exchange, the Empire deployed Princess Katharin herself, accompanied by Marshal Karl von Marbach and his Royal Fleet, alongside a slew of other important officials. Admiral Valentina’s First Fleet also attended as escort. Representing the Republic would be Defense Minister Alessio Cadorna, older brother of Admiral Mario Cadorna, as well as Marshal Gabriel Popov. Admiral Tang Jinhua of Battlefleet Chiyou and Vice Admiral Yue Fangling of Battlefleet Isolde participated as well.

In total, both sides deployed almost a hundred thousand warships—just for a prisoner exchange, signifying just how little trust had been fostered between the two states. Roughly 35 million imperial prisoners would be exchanged for 15 million republicans.

Treatment of prisoners became a sticking point of antagonism as well. Republican prisoners-of-war were usually put into harsh labor camps or prison worlds. Under more cruel emperors, cases of murder and rape became a daily occurrence in such worlds. Not that the republicans were much better; the imperials remember with ‘fondness’ the Oakrend Massacre of 2599, where one million imperial prisoners were butchered with a gas weapon by a particularly unhinged Defense Minister’s orders.

Nevertheless, both sides entered the space of Isparion Starzone, a starzone of three dwarf planets orbiting one yellow sun. This imperial space bordered republican territory. The Tiangong parked right next to the Illustrious, sandwiched between the former and Yue’s new flagship, the Rosebud.

“It’s really a beautiful ship, isn’t it?” Admiral Tang commented from the bridge of her ship to Abbas as her eyes scanned the Illustrious. “I never got the opportunity to see it up close. Usually we begin bombing each other from a much farther distance.”

Abbas smiled faintly. “It’s a little too garish for me,” he said.

“I can see your point. Well, unfortunately this isn’t a museum. We need to go.”

Standing tall behind the Defense Minister, Abbas gazed as the Imperial delegation made their way to the hall.

“So that’s the princess,” he muttered. Katharin strode forward with an aura of unmitigable pride and confidence, her eyes scanning the republicans, before locking for a few moments at Abbas.

The prisoner exchange began.