"Carving up Federation territory? Absolutely unthinkable," Gongzhili declared, the first to break the silence.
Boling had briefly described Gongzhili to Baisha. Though his methods grew increasingly rigid with age, bordering on obstinate, he was steadfast in defending the Federation's interests in his own way.
Yet the Federation was no one's private domain. It was a nation swayed by countless factions and voices. Men like Gongzhili, with their iron-fisted governance and uncompromising style, easily became targets, thorns in others' sides.
This time, as the Federation and Empire neared détente, the government welcomed the prospect, and many noble families eyed profits in the thaw. But Gongzhili, as Military High Commander, harbored a deep loathing for the Empire. Not a full war hawk, he nonetheless viewed every Imperial move as a veiled threat. To him, severing ties was the only way to shield the Federation from Aresian infiltration and dominance.
In earlier years, this stance had served him well. After the Federation-Empire war twenty years prior, relations had remained tepid, and Gongzhili's hardline posture as the Military's face bolstered the Federation's long-term position.
But times had changed. Both nations sought reconciliation.
Gongzhili's proud, unyielding nature now clashed with the Federation's shifting currents.
Even without the scandal of Baisha's interrogation, his refusal to adapt would have led to a fall—perhaps subtler, more insidious, a slow erosion rather than Baisha's brazen assault, backed by the Starbreaker fleet, demanding his humiliation.
Demotion, a personal apology from the High Commander, and ceding planets—each condition targeted Gongzhili's pride.
The first two conditions dripped with hostility, but the third struck at his deepest nightmare. Twenty years ago, as a young officer, he'd been powerless to halt the Federation's defeat, watching helplessly as it ceded star systems in shame. Now, as High Commander, Baisha forced him to relive that disgrace, and once again, he was powerless to stop it.
Baisha knew exactly how to wound him. Ignoring Gongzhili's protest, she addressed the man at the head of the table.
"These are my three conditions. Your response?"
The man paused, his silence heavy.
"First, demotions are feasible, but only after our internal investigation. We won't hand our officers to Imperial judgment."
Baisha nodded. "Naturally. I trust the Federation won't shield the guilty." A knowing smile curved her lips. "After all, in the new era, the Empire and Federation have many opportunities to collaborate."
"Second, an apology from our High Commander is reasonable," the man continued. "If we punish our Military, we must show sincerity. But by 'apology,' do you mean public, or…?"
"As long as my conditions are met, I'll treat this as a misunderstanding," Baisha said, leaning back in her command chair, the passionflower brooch prominent on her chest. Several officials, recognizing its significance, paled. "A misunderstanding between me and those who ordered my interrogation, not the Empire and Federation. It needn't be public. Even now, an apology through this screen fulfills the second condition."
"Your generosity is appreciated," the man said, his tone polite but his expression guarded. "As for your third request, I must regretfully decline."
"Every inch of Federation soil belongs to its people, to the soldiers who've bled defending our homes. The government cannot cede the foundation of our survival over one conversation—not even for frontier mining planets." His voice, though calm, was resolute.
Twenty years ago, a grueling war had forced the Federation to surrender mineral-rich systems. Baisha's attempt to achieve the same with mere words was near impossible.
Baisha remained unfazed. "Then I'll forgo ownership for control. Plainly, I want Blanslo Star."
"You know I grew up an orphan in Federation space. You may not know Blanslo Star—a frontier world that briefly thrived on t-crystal mining before fading into decline. It's poor, chaotic, ruled by villains. Yet it raised me. Before I learned my true identity, my bond to the Federation stemmed from Blanslo Star."
She paused. The room held its breath.
"Now, though I leave the Federation, I won't erase my years growing as a person here. These memories, no matter where I am in the cosmos, I'll never abandon. As an orphan of Blanslo Star, I wish for its prosperity."
Baisha's brow furrowed, her blue eyes icing over.
"But frankly, every day I grew there, I questioned the Federation's abysmal management of its frontier. Blanslo Star lacks economic value and noble oversight, but those are no excuses. Entrusting its fate to you risks further ruin."
If her earlier demands smacked of a nouveau riche flexing newfound power, these words truly humbled the Federation's elite.
No one could dismiss her as meddling in internal affairs. She'd lived as a Federation citizen, endured Blanslo Star's hardships. She had every right to speak, to condemn.
The man at the table's head sighed deeply.
"Your attachment to old ties leaves us no cause to sever your goodwill," he said. "But controlling Blanslo Star is impractical. Would you make it a state within our state? That crosses our government's line."
"I'll delegate control to a chosen proxy," Baisha countered. "A purebred Federation citizen, someone who'll care more for Blanslo Star's future than you. They'll decide its construction, management, and growth. The Federation can oversee it as with other frontier worlds, but I insist Blanslo Star never falls to corporations or noble houses."
Her expression turned scornful. "We know each other well. In the frontier, noble houses and corporations dominate small worlds. I don't seek their tyrannical rule—just fair, open, transparent development for Blanslo Star. Is that too much?"
The man fell silent for a moment. "We need time to discuss internally whether to grant your request."
"Of course," Baisha said, nodding with poised courtesy, a smile playing on her lips. "Discuss freely. Emperor Cecil Ronin and I will wait patiently."
The transmission ended.
Boling rose, adjusting his attire with graceful ease. "Her Highness has said all she wished. I'll await your decision at the hotel."
With that, he led his Imperial entourage from the hall.
Only Federation officials remained.
"I believe Her Highness's three conditions are acceptable," said the Minister of Armaments Production from a side seat. "She didn't overreach. The third, appointing a proxy for Blanslo Star, is minor."
Baisha's proposal signaled the Empire's readiness for sustained Federation ties. Without stable diplomacy, any promise could be broken, leaving her powerless to influence Blanslo Star's future.
"Ceding a planet's control to an Imperial?" another protested. "Unprecedented in our history. Letting her appoint a proxy is just planting her agent in our midst."
"I know Blanslo Star," a third chimed in. "A backwater, barely developable. It was tainted by Kangheng Biotech's scandal. Satisfying her is simple—offer policy concessions, keep Kangheng and similar powers out. The cost is low. It's a good deal."
"We're bending over backward for Imperials before talks even begin?" one grumbled.
"What choice do we have? The Military caused this mess. Secretly interrogating an Imperial—what were they thinking?"
The Economic Minister sighed. "Our trade terms with the Empire were nearly settled. Now we start over."
Complaints filled the air.
This was the Congressional Assembly, reflecting the will of most officials and noble houses.
Gongzhili sat, his face ashen, defeat etched in his features.
No vote was needed. He knew the tide had turned.
The man at the head tapped the table, quieting the rising clamor. "Those opposing the three conditions, stand and state your views and solutions."
Silence stretched. No one rose.
"Good," he said, nodding. "I declare: General Gongzhili is demoted to Colonel, stripped of his High Commander role and Military voting rights. Colonel Gongzhili shall personally apologize to the Imperial noble to resolve this diplomatic incident. The new Commander and other demotions will be decided later by the Central Assembly, Military Procuratorate, and Military."
Some hid their glee. Gongzhili's fall meant a reshuffling of Military power—a rare opportunity.
"For Blanslo Star, the Empire may appoint a Planetary Executive, but we'll select the bureaucratic core to prevent their appointee's dominance."
Thus, Baisha's conditions were nearly resolved.
The greatest obstacle was Gongzhili himself.
"I won't apologize," he said, neck stiff, eyes pale, aged in minutes. "I'd rather die than bow to an Imperial."
"No matter," a young general sneered. He'd opposed Gongzhili's use of the "Core" for interrogation, but Gongzhili's allies and sycophants had prevailed. Watching them reap their ruin was satisfying. "If you won't apologize, others will. Forgot her condition?"
"The High Commander's personal apology."
If Gongzhili complied, fine. If not, the Federation could play word games. A new, more pragmatic Commander would offer pleasantries, sparing the humiliation Gongzhili faced.
Gongzhili's face twisted.
He tore off his Commander's insignia, flung it on the table, and stormed out.
All eyes followed.
His former supporters sweated. Some, his direct subordinates, faced demotion and ruin alongside him. Others, tied to other factions or coerced by Gongzhili, were less worried. Their backers stood firm, their ties to Gongzhili loose. Hope remained.
Capital Star, Zhou Family.
An elderly man in black robes sat at an ornate root-carved tea table, brewing tea. He lifted the steaming pot's lid, pouring boiling water into a cup, where curled tea leaves unfurled in the swirling current. As bubbles surged like a spring, he eased the flame.
His assistant stood three meters away, silent as a shadow.
After a time, the old man poured fragrant tea.
"When all sound and scent fade, a cup of spring snow surpasses ambrosia… delightful," he mused, then turned to the assistant awaiting orders. "How did the Assembly fare today?"
The assistant detailed Baisha's conditions and the Assembly's decisions, omitting nothing.
"Hm, Gongzhili took a heavy blow… What of Ning Hongxue? Wasn't he tasked with interrogating the Imperial noble?"
"Her Highness didn't mention General Ning," the assistant replied respectfully.
The old man chuckled. "Ning Hongxue likely went easy. She's still lively, even strong enough to confront the Assembly herself. He didn't go all out."
Having served the old man long, the assistant ventured, "But her conditions include demoting Ning."
"Ning Hongxue's different," the old man said, shaking his head. "He didn't rise conventionally. A demotion? The Eighteenth District is still his domain. As its representative, his position is unshakable. Whether he's demoted is uncertain—and if he is, he'll climb back fast."
The assistant frowned. "Are you saying General Ning colluded with the Empire, planning her rescue?"
"Not necessarily," the old man said, eyes lowered. "Any merit from saving her can't be public. Hardliners like Gongzhili are obsolete, but cozying up to the Empire won't secure lasting Military power either."
"That noble's sharp. Not a word about Ning Hongxue. Even if she noticed his aid, she didn't spotlight him publicly. How old is she? Just of age?"
Her Assembly performance was commendable—not diabolically cunning, but a capable political player.
Raised on a frontier star, adapting so swiftly to her new identity marked her as prodigious, worthy of her royal blood.
"Which royal line is she?" the old man asked. "Any word?"
The assistant shook his head. "None. Only that the Emperor dotes on her, deploying even the Starbreaker."
"Merely posturing in our airspace to back her," the old man dismissed. "Time reveals true strength. We'll watch."
He paused, brow creasing. "What of A-Ying and A-Bo?"
"The young masters, since returning, have been confined in the disciplinary cells, per your orders, without food or water."
"Stubborn lads, still unbowed. Good. Without tempering, they'd forget they're Zhous."
His tone mixed irritation and complaint.
"Since Ning Hongxue returned to Capital Star, I knew trouble loomed. He'd turn the city upside down, dragging our foolish grandsons into it." The old man tsked. "He used them as pawns in his open scheme. Did he think my old eyes too dim to see?"
Zhou Ying had leaked secrets off Black Reef; Zhou Bo had passed messages to Imperial diplomats. Young and earnest, their efforts fell short. If caught, it wouldn't just implicate Ning Hongxue but the entire Zhou clan, forcing the old man to cover for them, aiding Ning's plan.
The boys trusted Ning Hongxue as their sole confidant beyond their late parents, yet he'd played them.
The old man hadn't caught on swiftly, but realizing the outcome wasn't dire, he let Ning proceed, hoping he'd remember the Zhou clan's subtle aid.
Zhou Bo and Ying, however, required punishment.
They were his eldest grandsons, Zhou Yan's heirs, destined to lead the clan—a conviction he never wavered on. The question was which would rise.
Now, both were ensnared by Ning Hongxue, their hearts straying from the clan. One plotted with Ning against their kin; the other, young yet jaded, shunned leadership like a battlefield.
The old man hesitated to punish harshly, but without discipline, both heirs risked ruin.
Talent meant nothing if they forgot their Zhou name.
Sighing, he steadied his thoughts, sipping the cooled tea.
Minutes later, the assistant, receiving a message, reported, "The Military and Procuratorate's vote concluded. Gongzhili's Commandership is formally revoked, with documents forthcoming."
"The interim High Commander is set… General Ning."
"For the upcoming Federation-Empire talks, a press conference is essential. General Ning will represent the Military, replacing Gongzhili, at the Starnet event."