The life of nobility–at least those who weren't downright poor–was one of worldly pleasures. Food and drink piled high as a mountain, manors and jewelry, and all they could care about was jostling against fellow nobles for influence. Few had any sense of noblesse oblige.

Now that they were engaged in brutal conflict against the Empress' faction, many of them began to feel something new–a sense of impending defeat, a sense that maybe, just maybe, they weren't always right.

Not so with Duke Gerlach, however. He hosted parties every two days, currying favor with other high nobles. While the Loyalists drafted strategies, the Tollerwalds drank their wines and slept in their canopies.

"Wars aren't fought by officers, but by soldiers"–this sentence was passed down by one great admiral to another. The Loyalist soldiers were fresh, enthusiastic, and the string of uninterrupted victories had lifted their confidence and loyalty enormously. Just yesterday, the Empress confiscated much of Duke Dahl's assets and gave rewards to the soldiers, in the form of a bonus of four months' worth of regular pay.

"What do we do? What do we do? Do we keep on fighting, or do we surrender and defect?" could sum up the feelings of the Tollerwald soldiers. Most had followed their commanding officers into rebellion. Some had been motivated by personal, materialistic reasons, and others half-forcibly conscripted from noble-controlled worlds. Their loyalty was conditional on the Tollerwald League’s victory. Already a few had defected.

Three weeks after the fall of Thalassa, a rapid advancement saw five hundred star systems retaken by the Loyalists without a fight. One of them was Gerlach Starzone, homeworld of Duke Gerlach. A number of Duke Gerlach's relatives were taken prisoner.

“How dare they!” Duke Gerlach smashed his wineglass against the floor. “We cannot let this insult stand!”

Flames burned across the Tollerwald nobles. Strategically, the Empress had hunted down the relatives of many high nobles and imprisoned them in Gerlach III, third planet of the Gerlach Starzone.

The enraged duke decided to, at once, bring out all his remaining forces for an all-out battle. The Empress was discussing strategy with Marshal Karl when news arrived.

"What? They sortied out? All of them?" was the Empress' reaction. She wore an expression of shock that soon turned into a malevolent grin.

"An interesting tactic, trying to force us to a single field battle," the Marshal commented nonchalantly. "If that is what they want, we should oblige."

"Indeed ... very well then, let's set up the playing field."

Recon indicated that the gathered Tollerwald forces numbered almost 220,000 warships, certainly more than the Loyalists could muster. The Empress hurriedly recalled Radbruch and Scarnhorst from the Imperial Throneworld. She offered pardons and rewards for any captured enlisted men and low officers who had served the revolt. Around half accepted the offer. The revolt's ships were seized and used to furnish the Fifth and Sixth Fleets especially.

The Loyalists mustered around 190,000 warships for the coming battle, comprised of the full-strength Royal Fleet, First Fleet, Second Fleet, and Eleventh Fleet, as well as the somewhat under-strength Fifth and Sixth Fleets. Few imperial commanders ever commanded such a large force; even Marshal Karl only once did so. The Empress broke precedent by placing Marshal Karl in charge of the fleet, with herself under him. No monarch of the Empire had ever done this.

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"So, a big battle to end things, huh?"

Three distinguished commanders–Thompson, Radbruch, and Scarnhorst–gathered in a club for high rank officers aboard the Empress' flagship, having received information about the coming battle. Thompson, having asked that question, opened a bottle of wine and poured it.

Scarnhorst swirled her glass. "If they're to shake off the omen of previous defeats and turn the tide of the war, a single, open battle is the only way," she remarked. "Especially since we have a nice, juicy loss condition."

Radbruch and Thompson squirmed uncomfortably. The 'loss condition' was clear: the newly crowned Empress was heirless, and no clear line of succession could be drawn. If the aristocrats could kill her, the Loyalist cause would lose the banner under which they were fighting, and disunity would reign.

The trio drunk more wine and talked about other, calmer subjects such as anything not involving the Empress' possible death before parting ways and returning to their own flagships.

One day, the Empress announced the trial of a number of Tollerwald nobles, including Duke Gerlach's relatives. Enraged, the Duke predictably sped up.

"A fleet of nearly two hundred ships. Quite a thing to behold, isn't it, Marshal?" Katharin said, observing the numberless columns of light.

"It is as you say, Empress," Karl replied. "The enemy will have a greater force, however."

"That won't help them much," Katharin replied. "They've been quite subpar. I don't expect them to be a sudden genius."

"It is as you say."

For the coming battle, Karl contacted four young officers–Valentina, Thompson, Radbruch, and Scarnhorst. "I'll leave the planning to you four," he said with a mysterious smile before cutting off transmission.

"Is this really fine, Marshal?" Vice Admiral Holm asked. For the coming battle, Holm was chosen as Karl's second-in-command.

“It will be fine,” Karl said, nodding firmly. “Young officers are like children. One day you have to let them take control of things.”

The four young officers were shocked to hear the weighty responsibility hurled unto them, and quickly scrambled to form a tactical plan for the battle.

‘The final battle’ was the unofficial name spoken by many, and also the name often used by historians. Another name would be the Battle of the Gerlach Starzone, but that was boring.

Boring, though, would be the most incorrect word to describe the feelings of the file-and-rank; the cooks, the riflemen, the gunners, the petty officers. The Loyalist soldiers sang before the battle, riling each other up,

“Our Empress hasn’t lost a battle yet, it’s not going to change now!”

Few unbiased records remained about the Tollerwald preparation and morale before the battle. High-level tacticians move their ships like toys on a child’s game, and the common soldier pays the price for the former’s incompetence.

The stars were bright that day, that marked the eighth month of the Imperial Civil War. Innumerable walls of light, engines of destruction of death, blot the beautiful stygian space. “To the enemy commander. To the enemy commander,” was the beginning of a ‘communication’ from Marshal Karl. “Your fleet is demoralized, your faction is on the brink of loss, and your soldiers are unwilling to follow you. Stand down, shut your engines, and I promise you the mercy of the Empress.”

There was no reply, which was to be expected. “Mmm, now let’s see how much our young comrades’ plan is worth, shall we, Holm?” Marshal Karl muttered while flexing his muscles.

“It’s a good plan,” Vice Admiral Holm commented.

“Oh, it’s good. It’s just inflexible. I wonder if they can imagine what counters a proper commander can whip up against it.”

The Empress’ personal fleet lied 30 light-seconds behind the main formation: Marshal Karl on the center, Vice Admiral Thompson on the left, Vice Admiral Scarnhorst on the right, and Vice Admiral Radbruch held in reserve.

Duke Gerlach sat on his command chair in his flagship, the Starlight. His fleets are divided as well as they are able. Admiral Dortmund held secondary command.

“Fire!”