Battle in space had always been confusing. Fighting from light-seconds away, ships had to be identified with their ID; since enemy ships' ID couldn't be identified, both the Republic and the Empire normally knew pretty well friend and foe. But a civil war between imperial factions was another matter.

"It's a shame that we have to kill fellow imperials," Radbruch remarked to his friend as the two of them prepared for battle. I wonder, if Her Majesty placates the nobles, whether this could be avoided."

"What would be the point?" Thompson asked rashly. "They're parasites. They need to be removed."

"All water under the bridge now, I think. What I'm more concerned is the military revolt."

"What? Don't tell me you have hidden sympathies for them."

"Not really, but ... you know, I can see where they're coming from," Radbruch said. "The nobles are just fighting for their own privileges, but the revolt, at the surface, looks like they care about the Empire's people."

In her flagship Regalia, the Empress sat wondering how to approach the coming conflict. Waiting until the two rebel forces to exhaust themselves and finishing them off were tempting, but would her enemies be so kind as to allow her to do that unimpeded? At worst, they might temporarily join forces against her. She summoned the three fleet commanders under her and asked their opinions.

"There's no rush, why not wait for our main forces to arrive?" Bianca offered her opinion. It was a very responsible and conservative opinion.

"Can we be so passive, though?" the Empress asked. All three vice admirals almost immediately caught what she meant; the Empress had already decided to fight; all that were to be decided was where and how.

The condition was thus: unexpectedly, the military revolt was having the upper hand against the Tollerwalds in a series of skirmishes. Their forces, drawn from the Imperial Fleet, were well-equipped and well-trained, and to some extent was very disciplined and had high morale.

"But that is all they have," Bianca pointed out. "They have two and a half fleets left. If they lose any more, they'll be forced back inside Thalassa Fortress."

"So we focus on the military revolt first?" Thompson confirmed.

"Yes. Radbruch, Thompson, Scarnhorst; set out with your fleets and detect them."

The force that made contact with the enemy was the Fifth Fleet under Radbruch. With maniacal speed, he caught up with the Eighteenth Fleet. The two depleted fleets fought furiously.

The Fifth Fleet had the advantage this time–attacking was its natural domain, and the Eighteenth Fleet had to summon reinforcements.

Admiral Luvert answered the call, but it was too late. The Eighteenth Fleet had been scattered. Admiral Boll had passed from his mortal coil. In vengeance, Admiral Luvert laid down furious fire upon his opponent.

The Sixth Fleet, having been in vicinity, arrived near Luvert's rear. "Yes! Attack!" Radbruch proclaimed, his flagship bravely charging at the front whilst the Sixth Fleet ruined the enemy formation from behind.

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Assailed from fore and aft, Admiral Luvert promptly retreated, having suffered 30 percent losses. "These people really know how to run away, huh?" Radbruch remarked, to the open, boisterous laughter from his staff officers.

Bianca let out a small smile. "A victory. Always nice to have one." She opened a can of soda and gulped it all in one motion. "Alright, it's time to clean up."

Both fleets reduced even further, the Fifth and Sixth Fleets decided to join forces. Strange rumors began to spread about how the two fleet's commanding officers would go to each other's flagship ... at eleven at night ... while sneaking around.

In a sideshow, Vice Admiral Thompson clashed with Duke Dahl himself, but after some steady fighting, both withdrew.

"They're targeting me," Duke Dahl wondered to himself. With a loud groan, he commanded both his fleet and Admiral Luvert's to retreat to Thalassa Fortress for repairs. In this way, the Loyalists had effectively neutralized one of their enemies–and the more dangerous of the two, to boot.

It was 45 days after the battles began that Marshal Karl's main fleets arrived on the theatre. After conducting communications with the Empress' vanguard fleets, the two decided to combine and crush the Tollerwald fleet in one sharp blow.

But things weren't as easy as expected. The Tollerwalds had recruited a new, professional commander; his name was Admiral Christopher von Weyhern. He was a seasoned commander, second-in-command to Marshal Karl during the (in)famous Battle of Istoria.

In that battle, the Republic's Admiral Kadita–the 'Unstoppable Lance' who fell in battle some time ago–pierced through his fleet, jeopardizing the entire imperial formation and turning an evenly fought battle to a severe defeat. Admiral Weyhern bore most of the blame and was shuffled to some do-nothing job, before he himself retired early and built a corporation specializing in agriculture.

Weyhern had hoped to evade the chaos of the civil war and had even rejected Duke Dahl's offer to join his revolt, but his personal situation forced him to act. His sons and daughters, inheritor to his corporation, had nearly bankrupted it through a series of reckless speculation and uncontrolled personal spending. Marquis Knittlingen offered to bail the corporation out–the price being his service. And so the admiral, his hair graying, donned his uniform once more.

"Our main priority should be to stop the Empress and the Marshal from joining forces," he had advised the marquis.

"Why should we? Let them join forces and we beat them in one strike!" one young noble, high in rank but lacking in military acumen, shouted over the table.

"Marshal Karl von Marbach is the most formidable commander in this civil war ... engaging him in a pitched battle without significant numerical superiority–not withstanding the skilled officers under his command–would be suicidal. Our only chance is overwhelming the two separate squadrons of the enemy before they can unite."

This sober evaluation enraged the gathered noble commanders. The next four hours were spent on useless debates.

Weyrend retired to his suite dejected. "What sort of force was this? This was no army, no sir, this was a rabble," was his recorded words in his journal.

However, for entirely selfish reasons, a good part of the rebel nobles supported Weyrend's idea. As they wished to achieve glory for themselves, they had enough of a cool head to realize fighting a small force is easier than a bigger one.

Eventually Weyrend was able to bring almost the entire fleet against the Loyalist fleet under Marshal Karl. It was his one shot, Weyrend thought. 160,000 against 60,000–with that sort of odds, surely even a humble officer as he had a chance to best Karl. Many starzones away, the Loyalists made plans of their own.

"The enemy is suspiciously sluggish," Admiral Valentina observed.

Marshal Karl hummed noncommittally. He had seen this before; a classic tactic of the Republic; feigning sluggishness to incite rashness. Of course, in this case it was simply incompetence, but he couldn't afford to think that.

Stable communications had been made with the Empress' fleet. Karl half-abandoned the idea of a decisive battle and proposed a plan–an insidious trap. When the Empress received the plan, she grinned. "To some extent I sympathize with the rebels–to have to face the ingenuity of this man!"