The Battle of Gerlach Starzone marked the end of the Tollerwald revolt. Sporadic resistance remained, but when Edelweiss Fortress flew the white flag, the result was clear to see: Empress Katharin had fended off two separatist factions and maintained her throne through military might. The Imperial Civil War was over.
In the Imperial Throneworld, Empress Katharin made a speech. Flanked by trusted advisors, she addressed the people. Of note was the lateness of the normally very disciplined Spymaster Klaris.
When the young Empress, with a majesty unrivalled, steps unto the stage, the people cheered. Her reforms had made her popular; her victory had propelled it to sky-high. She let the crowd cheer and clap.
It took a good five minutes for the crowd to get physically exhausted and stop cheering. "My people," she began. "The Empire had just passed its direst hour. A coalition of disgruntled nobility and disaffected military members had launched a revolt. They were summarily defeated."
Few emperors had managed to whip up their people to such zeal, such passion, with so little an effort. A variety of expressions could be observed on her trusted subordinates; Marshal Karl and Spymaster Klaris remained unsmiling and purely professional, but a smirk broke out on Vice Admiral Radbruch's face. The other military officers couldn't help but smile, too.
"The imperial government will continue the reforms it had begun enacting since the beginning of my reign."
Cheers again. "The nobility who had not aided the opportunistic Tollerwald League will keep their titles and possessions," she continued, "however, progressive taxes will be applied to them, per the Imperial Decree Number 188, as it is applied to the populace in general."
"Nobody cheers this time," Thompson whispered to his friend, Radbruch.
"Who the hell likes paying taxes?" his friend replied.
"Soldiers and junior officers of both the military revolt and the Tollerwald League; all of you have fought commendably, and your honor remains intact. Any dishonor belongs to the nobility and senior officers that had led you to a causeless war. I pardon all of you, and you will receive a sum of severance pay. Any who wishes to re-join the military is welcome to do so by following the proper procedures."
Amongst the crowd were a number of officers who had defected early. They sighed a breath of relief.
However, now the Empress dropped her tone of sagacity and adopted a dark, vicious tone. "As for the senior officers and nobility of the Tollerwald League, who had plotted insubordination and lawless rebellion in the name of their own selfish privileges and values, I urge you to turn yourself in. Your punishment will be harsh; but if you are caught by the tendrils of the Imperial Fleet, it will be doubly so."
She had been careful to not mention the military revolt when speaking of such threats. Admiral Luvert, the sole surviving senior officer, had voluntarily accepted house arrest, and mid-rank officers such as commodores had been let go, even if Spymaster Klaris' agents kept a close watch on them.
And so did the reading of Imperial Decree 231 end. In the evening, she had authorized the promotion of Thompson, Radbruch, Holm, Valentina, and Scarnhorst to the rank of admiral.
The Empress returned to her palace and slept soundly through the night. In the morning, she held a meeting with Spymaster Klaris, Marshal Karl, and a dozen other ministers.
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Spymaster Klaris provided a long, almost boring report; monies and resources taken from the defeated nobles had far exceeded even the most optimistic calculations; the stains of corruption spread its terrible stench everywhere. For the nobles who had corrupted the Empire's finances, two choices remain: execution or imprisonment for life.
The meeting was notably austere. Lunch was roasted beef and bread. After several more hours of discussion regarding other topics, the Empress returned to the meat of the issue. “One way or the other, we have to end the war with the Republic.”
Ending the war with the Republic. Imperial die-hards might suffer a heart attack from such an audacious thing spoken by the monarch; but pragmatically the war had to end. A large amount of resources is allocated to the military. Large warships and bases, annually consuming manpower, precious metals, and money, were nothing but a drain in the Empire’s treasury, and the only reason the military was so big was the war.
The Empress wasn’t willing to surrender the Empire, so the way she saw it, there were only two paths: defeat the Republic in battle or a peaceful negotiation.
She threw a glance at the brooding Marshal Karl. He was her—and her late father’s—trump card. Furthermore, she had gathered a cadre of young, talented officers who had proven their mettle in helping her destroy the rebel fleets.
The Republic was an entirely different thing, though. The Empress let out a mental sigh. Unlike the rebels, the Republic represented a near-equal of the Empire, with a higher GDP which balanced their lesser population. In terms of military strength, even if the Empire held a slight, consistent advantage, it was not enough to decisively defeat the Republic. The Republic still had many fleets, and a few excellent commanders.
If anything, historically there had been an occurence during Emperor Jochen von Nassau’s reign, where economic troubles, domestic uprisings, and malcontent nobles bred the perfect environment for a Republican invasion. It was only barely repelled in face of the Throneworld.
The Empress scanned the room with her eyes. Only two subordinates met them directly; Marshal Karl and Spymaster Klaris. “Shall we try to conclude a peace treaty with them?” she said.
A few ministers shuffled uncomfortably on their seats. “They’re undergoing a change of government in a few months or so,” Spymaster Klaris interjected. “If we’re to negotiate a treaty, best we wait until then.”
“Ah. Of course. I forgot they like to change governments every few years,” the Empress said with a smirk. Democratic government never made sense to her. It was recorded by a vassal of hers that she once spoke thusly to a scholar:
“It is not that I do not share power. My vassals do—my right hand woman Klaris, and my head of military Karl, and many others. The difference is that they are chosen through merit and my discerning eye. Why should we let the ‘people’ choose? Their votes are fickle, their ideologies as an animal on a lilly pad. Half a dozen loaves of bread could buy a vote; your rulers will merely be those who have the most bread. My competent government has benefitted the people greatly; if tomorrow they elect some amongst themselves to rule, can you guarantee it’ll do as good, or better than my government?”
The Empress waved her hand. “Klaris, begin research into potential negotiations,” she ordered. “All of you, do your duties as assigned.” With another wave of the hand, she dismissed the meeting. Except Spymaster Klaris remained.
“Empress, I need to speak about an important issue.”
“Certainly. What is it?”
“Your marriage, Empress. A number of prominent families has offered their sons’ hands—“
The Empress tsk-ed. “I’m barely twenty-one,” she said. “The Empire is not yet stable, how can I marry?”
“Twenty-one is plenty old, Empress. Your peers have married two or three years ago.”
“Fine. Let me see the candidates.”
The son of an oil baron. The grandson of the most powerful banker family. The son of a retired fleet admiral. “Nepotism babies, all of them,” the Empress mocked. “Find an equal, Klaris.”
“There could be no equal to you, Empress.”
“Then someone close. Not these pathetic people.” With another wave of the hand, the Empress dismissed Klaris.
There could be no equal to me?
The face of a certain officer from the other side of the galaxy popped in her mind. Abbas al-Salem; the first man to defeat her in battle.
I’ll get you one day.
Countless light seconds away from the Throneworld, in the worlds of the Republic, a crisis was brewing.