Baisha, kneading the black panther's plush cheeks, heard the Emperor and Weili return to the lounge. She instinctively released the panther, glancing back.
The Emperor's expression still carried a trace of displeasure.
Baisha: "…"
Hadn't Weili's lengthy counsel softened him? Was he still resisting reality?
She wasn't naive. When Weili chased after the Emperor, she could guess their conversation's gist. Cecil Ronin wouldn't easily accept a niece emerging from some forgotten corner of the galaxy. Weili, as Privy Council President and the Emperor's confidant, had likely pleaded her case, driven by loyalty to the crown and reverence for her mother, the Grand Princess, unwilling to let royal blood languish in exile.
As for the Empire's vacant heirship… Baisha hadn't even considered it. Securing a place to belong was challenge enough. If the Emperor restored her noble status and granted her privileges, it would be like winning a cosmic lottery.
Under another's roof, one bows. The Emperor held the Empire's reins; winning his favor could only benefit her future—a decision requiring little debate.
To charm an elder, she'd need to play the dutiful junior.
She promptly let go of the panther and smiled at the faintly irked Emperor. "You're back, Uncle."
Cecil Ronin's face flickered through a spectrum of emotions.
His brow creased, his demeanor stiff, but his tone softened. "…In the Empire, you mustn't casually touch another's mental entity. It risks harm."
Mental entities, born of pure mental energy, were more than an Imperial's other half—they were tied to lifelong honor, not pets to be trifled with. Even seemingly adorable animal entities were formidable, their attacks no jest.
Cecil instructed her: as a royal, Baisha must respect and wary of others' entities.
"…This wasn't Her Highness's fault," Jilun interjected, taking blame. "Seeing her low spirits, I let my entity comfort her."
Cecil shot Jilun an icy glance. "As a Major General, you should uphold decorum, not act frivolous."
Weili: "…"
Frivolous Jilun? Was this an Imperial jest?
Weili sighed, intervening before the situation veered stranger. "Your Majesty, have you forgotten our discussion?"
Cecil snorted, extending a hand to his guard captain. "Bring my sword."
The captain bowed, ordering a soldier to fetch a black velvet-wrapped sword case. Inside lay a ninety-centimeter blade, its steel glinting coldly. The hilt, wound with intricate gold thread, bore the Empire's emblem—a slender, mythical bird, the "Xuanniao," singing amidst thorns, carved in relief. The curved guard, inlaid with vibrant blue mother-of-pearl, mimicked the bird's tail, radiant and resplendent.
The captain presented the sword with both hands.
Baisha: "?"
What was this? Did Cecil intend to slay her as a royal blemish, or test her in combat to earn her status?
But the Emperor didn't draw the blade.
He lifted the sheathed sword, its tip toward himself, hilt toward Baisha.
"Kneel on one knee," he said.
Sensing the gravity, Baisha complied solemnly.
The cold hilt touched her shoulder.
"Today, I, Cecil Ronin, as Sovereign of the Empire, acknowledge your royal blood," he declared, his sea-deep eyes ablaze, his voice laced with mental energy, each syllable commanding absolute focus. "Henceforth, you are a Ronin."
"I impart our ancestors' creed: Glory crowns you, fierce as fire. Power and desire birth blood and pain; nobility and salvation demand sacrifice. This body is a sword, cleaving the thorns of fate to glimpse the true self."
Cecil leaned forward, placing the sword in Baisha's hands, his tone warming.
"Perhaps you need a new name."
"How about 'Angelica'? Or 'Lilani'?"
As he teetered on indecision, Baisha quickly accepted the sword. "My current name suits me, Your Majesty."
Cecil frowned. "It'll look odd in the royal registry."
Baisha protested firmly, "I'd rather not be 'Angelica'—the thought alone gives me chills."
"Fine," Cecil relented. "When your mother returns, she can name you formally."
If that day ever comes.
Baisha gripped the cold sword. She'd gained the noble status she'd hoped for, but a vast uncertainty loomed.
What now?
"Your entity rampaged, partially manifesting but not fully formed," Cecil said, helping her rise, his pale hand withdrawing swiftly. "You must awaken it soon."
Entity awakening was typically natural, but Baisha's state was abnormal. Her entity, endangered mid-formation, emerged prematurely to protect her. She urgently needed energy to complete its growth.
"I'll take you to a special place to aid your entity's 'hatching,'" Cecil said slowly. "Once it's stable, I'll formally grant you the title of Princess."
Baisha blinked.
He offered her the passionflower brooch, his voice tinged with faint, concealed nervousness. "This was your mother's… my gift to you."
The sapphire's light shimmered, mirroring a gentle, resolute gaze.
Baisha felt a sudden unease.
Lips pursed, she hesitated, then took the brooch from Cecil's palm.
Cecil exhaled softly.
As the late Emperor's youngest and the Empire's ruler, he rarely needed to curry favor. His parents' devoted bond and his sister's free-spirited camaraderie—playful yet fiercely loyal—had forged a secure family. Xipes, two years his senior, was both kin and comrade, trusted with his life.
But this child was different.
So young, like a fledgling yet to spread its wings, stumbling into the world, needing his care and guidance.
Cecil knew lasting kinship began with sincerity and trust. Actions spoke louder than words. To earn Baisha's trust, he must learn to be a proper uncle.
Starting with her acceptance.
After a fierce internal struggle, he faced Baisha with grim resolve. "Would you like to see my entity? You may touch it, if you wish."
Baisha, clutching the brooch, nearly lost her composure. "…"
So sudden?
Her eased nerves tightened. "Er, no need, really. Your entity must be majestic—I mean, it's your symbol, so I'll respect it as I respect you…"
Cecil sensed her reluctance.
Unfazed outwardly, he shot Jilun a commanding glance and said to Baisha, "As you wish."
The matter settled, they prepared to leave. Cecil instructed Baisha to follow him to Youdu Star, the Emperor's seat.
As a princess, she'd eventually claim her own system, but as a minor, her privileges were his to dictate.
Weili interjected, "Your Majesty, Her Highness has unfinished business in the Federation."
Cecil glanced at Baisha, understanding her thoughts, and nodded. "You have half a month to resolve your affairs. I expect you on Youdu Star then."
Half a month seemed ample, but with the Empire's fleet navigating jump stations, a round trip from the Federation to Youdu Star took a week, leaving her one week to address the fallout from her interrogation and bid farewell to friends.
Time pressed, Baisha wasted none. "May I leave now, Your Majesty?"
Cecil, lounging on the sofa, propped his chin. "Call me Uncle."
Baisha: "…Uncle."
"For correcting yourself promptly," he said, reclining languidly, silver hair cascading, his blue attire gleaming faintly, accentuating his flawless profile, "go. Weili will keep the sword. Wear the brooch I gave you."
Baisha noted her uncle's imperial air—expression, posture, tone—surfaced most when displeased.
What was an emperor? A will above all, unmoved by others, shaping their fates.
But was that true?
Inspiration struck. Softening her tone, she said, "Uncle, it's not that I don't want to return to the Empire—it's surely far better than the Federation. I want to go back because I can't swallow this grudge…"
"I can't do it alone. Uncle, as Emperor, you'll help me—right?"
The lounge fell deathly silent.
Weili covertly studied Cecil. His face was unchanged, but Weili, long his confidant, saw subtle signs—relaxed shoulders, slightly narrowed eyes—betraying his pleasure.
"Well said," Cecil replied. "You should exact your own retribution."
"I assign three fleets from the Starbreaker and their soldiers, plus the Xihe, to you. They'll ensure your safety, but I don't mind if you wield them as leverage in Federation talks." Cecil turned to Jilun. "I entrust their command to you. Inform Boling that for the next week, you and he serve my niece. Support her fully, using every means to achieve her goals."
Jilun saluted. "Yes, sir."
Weili stayed silent.
Though this risked Federation-Empire tensions, the Federation's near-loss of a royal was an unforgivable affront. Cecil's demand for justice was justified.
The power of vengeance now rested in Baisha's hands.
Jilun's fleet had stormed Black Reef, whisking Baisha away, departing Federation space that day. Boling, as diplomatic envoy, remained to face the Federation's ire.
"This is blatant provocation!" roared Gongzhili, Military High Commander, slamming the table.
He faced Boling directly, surrounded by Federation officials. Gongzhili aimed to frame the Empire's actions as contempt, rallying hostility.
"Your fleet destroyed two jump stations, killed hundreds, and let felons escape, endangering our security," Gongzhili said coldly. "Firing on our citizens in our territory grossly violates our sovereignty!"
Broadly, the charges held weight.
But Boling was no pawn to Gongzhili's rhetoric.
"Then ask your Military what they've done," Boling retorted, chuckling. "We came for peace. Why bombard a storm-shrouded Black Reef? Freeing or killing your prisoners benefits us how?" His tone sharpened, elegant yet cutting. "And I suggest a thorough investigation. Those 'escaped' felons—aren't they charred corpses? Our soldiers reported many in the Dark Prison died before our landing. The wardens, facing defeat, ordered their execution. Don't pin that on us."
Gongzhili's brow twitched, but Boling cut him off.
"And why did we storm Black Reef?" Boling projected a document onto the hall's screen, smiling. "Because your Military secretly interrogated an Imperial—a young one, her entity unformed."
"The Aresian Empire, fierce and unconquered, has never endured such insult. Your Military used machines to condense mental energy, breaching that child's defenses. Gongzhili, you claim we trampled your sovereignty—what of your immoral acts? Did you consider diplomacy?"
Boling's stance was clear: You acted inhumanely first, yet dare accuse us of breaking rules?
His shared file detailed everything. Non-Military officials gasped.
"Gongzhili, as Commander, how could you allow this?" one demanded.
Gongzhili closed his eyes, his weathered face stern. "I merely authorized questioning a potential spy."
"Spy?" Boling scoffed. "One aiming for your Central Military Academy, not hiding her genes? Does that excuse hold?"
"You still shouldn't have attacked Black Reef," Gongzhili insisted. "Your actions killed our citizens."
"Let's both step back," Boling said magnanimously, addressing the officials. "Our fleet moved covertly, and Black Reef is undisclosed Federation soil. Escalating this risks public scrutiny of Black Reef…"
A prison for torture wasn't a proud secret.
This fueled the officials' hesitation.
Black Reef was remote. Boling's defense was sound. Pursuing this exposed Federation taboos. The child's timely rescue mitigated disaster—a small mercy.
"Enough," said a man from the head seat.
Plain-featured yet dignified, his calm voice silenced the room, commanding attention.
"Gongzhili, you abused authority, ignoring your generals to interrogate an Imperial. Did you think we wouldn't learn?" he said. "The Congressional Assembly knows. Your actions, even if for the Federation, crossed lines."
"And Mr. Boling, understand our need to neutralize threats."
"Your 'friend,' aiming for the Academy, caused ripples over years—not a quiet sort. She may not have known her identity, but her bid for military power, with rare double-S mental strength, naturally drew suspicion."
Boling raised a brow, about to retort, when a new message flashed on his neural device. Surprise flickered, then he smiled, half-sighing, half-mocking.
"Indeed, the Federation's uncertainty, and her own, led to this dramatic twist…"
"Gentlemen, the situation has escalated. The one you interrogated isn't merely an Imperial—she's royal, a noble of our court."
Officials paled.
Royalty?
"Impossible!" Gongzhili stood, veins bulging, composure fraying. "An orphan… royal?"
Her mental strength might surpass double-S.
Every potent Imperial warrior troubled the Federation, let alone royalty!
Yet this unformed royal, naive, slipped their grasp—interrogated, unmastered, and escaped unscathed.
She was no mere threat; as a noble permitted private fleets, she'd view the Military as a thorn, her influence tied to the Emperor's honor and stance toward the Federation.
Some officials looked faint.
A sweating diplomat stammered, "A misunderstanding! How can we make the royal and Emperor forget this?"
For an ordinary orphan, negotiations could linger. But now, erasure was a blessing.
Yet the Federation privately cursed the Empire's recklessness: Losing royalty? Who's more absurd?
Boling's lips curved.
"Forget it? Simple. Our beleaguered Highness is en route back. Discuss terms with her directly."
He broadcasted his device's feed.
A silver-haired, blue-eyed girl sat in a starship's control room, her cold expression framed by a window revealing the black cosmos and countless gleaming black ships.
Military officials recognized some.
"…Starbreaker?" one trembled. "The Emperor's personal guard!"
The near-invincible fleet.
Officials felt like swatting a rat only to summon a tiger.
"Your Highness," Boling greeted, smiling. "The Military apologizes for your wrongful interrogation and asks what compensation you seek. Speak freely."
Generals bristled at his audacity but, cowed by Starbreaker, held their tongues.
Anything to keep that nightmare from Capital Star.
Baisha raised a brow, her smile gracious, as if no rift existed. "Then I won't hold back."
"I have three conditions."
"First, many in the Military voted to interrogate me, yes? I demand those generals be demoted three ranks. During joint Federation-Empire star-bug campaigns, Imperials neither welcome nor cooperate with them."
Frontlines offered glory; Baisha ensured their demotion was a lasting setback.
"Second, I want Commander Gongzhili's personal apology."
"Third… I've taken a liking to a few frontier planets. Nothing grand, just small worlds with rare mineral veins. If the Federation gifts me these as amends, I'd accept gladly."