The Imperial Starbreaker fleet, a shadow of legend, materialized at the Federation's frontier, gliding silently through jump stations to dock at Capital Star's aerospace port. The sight left onlookers agape.
It had been years since the Starbreaker's last appearance, yet its storied triumphs against the star-bugs were etched in Federation military textbooks. Anyone with a passing knowledge of warfare or Imperial armaments knew its weight.
The fleet's arrival was understated, a whisper compared to the pomp of the earlier Imperial diplomatic mission aboard the Xihe. Yet the Military was privy to the truth, and whispers reached the military academies. From the night the Starbreaker landed, the Central Military Academy's student forum buzzed ceaselessly.
"Starbreaker Surfaces: A Breakdown of the Fleet's Ambush Tactics and Counteroffensives in Imperial War History"
A post compiled military insights on the Starbreaker, detailing its firepower estimates, Emperor Cecil Ronin's command style, and meticulous analyses of key battles. The author, clearly a Command Division student steeped in war history, drew fervent discussion.
Debates flowed, but somewhere along the thread, the topic veered.
"Starbreaker's here… surely not the Emperor himself?"
"Dream on. No Aresian ruler has ever set foot here. But I'd kill to see what their Emperor looks like. Must be stunning. We're just not worthy, sob."
"Why send Starbreaker now? And why's our Military silent? Only the Emperor commands the royal guard—did he order them to back the peace talks?"
"Stop guessing! It's an Imperial noble visiting. Starbreaker's their escort!"
"A noble? That's a big deal. Why's our News Department asleep, not a peep?"
"Maybe it's a covert visit, avoiding the public eye. Their nobles are rare and precious these days."
"Latest rumor: the noble met the diplomatic mission and checked into Hausen Huaxi Hotel. Anyone rich, free, and brave enough to dodge Imperial guards, go snag a meeting. I'll pay 500 star-coins for a photo."
"Seconded."
"Seconded plus one."
"Oh, please, Command Division poster. Heart as black as your ID. You think nobles are that easy to meet? Hausen Huaxi's overpriced—8,000 star-coins a night. Only fools with too much money would go. Stop stirring trouble."
"…"
In the Holman estate, Yaning and Jingyi sat back-to-back, listlessly scrolling the Central Military Academy's student forum.
A day earlier, the Academy had sent their admission notices, complete with student IDs and new neural devices linked to the internal network. Enrollment, housing, and miscellaneous tasks could be handled via the device. They'd also received freshman accounts, granting access to course materials and the forum, though their low rank limited them to lurking.
The Academy drew students from all Federation corners and classes, its information network vast, bolstered by alumni in the Military. News of the Starbreaker's arrival was no surprise.
"The noble they're talking about… it's Shasha, right?" Yaning murmured, melancholic.
"Maybe," Jingyi replied, eyes fixed on her screen, tone flat. "Stop scrolling the forum. Study your Command Division texts. I'm in Mecha Combat—our courses won't overlap. I can't help you."
Yaning pursed his lips. "You're scrolling too."
It was almost laughable—they secretly hoped some reckless Academy student would sneak into Hausen Huaxi and snap a photo of the noble.
It was their only way to glimpse Baisha's current state.
That day, they'd helped Zhou Bo relay information to the Imperial Foreign Minister, fleeing Hausen Huaxi in haste. Zhou Bo hadn't reappeared, reportedly confined by his family. Their teacher, Holman, freed from Military custody, was now swamped with Procuratorate meetings, returning late and saying little about Baisha beyond, "She's likely safe. Don't act rashly for now."
What could they do? Wait obediently.
And in waiting, Baisha had transformed from "Imperial orphan" to "Imperial noble."
It didn't take a genius to deduce she'd found her family in the Empire.
Her race had never been their primary concern—her safety was. Federation-Empire tensions wouldn't fray their bond. But as a noble, Baisha faced a future of peril and promise, her status now leagues above theirs, a chasm between cloud and earth.
They were still friends now. But what of the future? Would they inevitably drift apart?
Raised in the Mercy Orphanage, they'd lost much and gained little, their hearts tender, prone to pessimism.
"Should've never aimed for the Academy," Yaning muttered. "So many paths to rise, but only the Academy requires gene tests. Civil service exams don't."
"What nonsense is that?" Jingyi's face hardened, elbowing him. "You think all our years of effort were for nothing?"
"But we're not together anymore. What's the point of the Academy?" Yaning persisted, eyes reddening. "Don't pretend you can let Shasha go. You need her more than I do."
Jingyi's expression flickered, her brow furrowing, but she didn't silence him. A fleeting thought surfaced: had they known it would come to this, their skills could've sustained them in the frontier forever. But she quashed it. She couldn't abandon her Academy dream or harbor selfish desires to "hide" Baisha.
They'd achieved the Academy; Baisha had reunited with her kin. If their story ended here, it was a fine conclusion.
Then, the downstairs doorbell chimed.
Yaning and Jingyi straightened, exchanging startled glances.
"I'll get it!" Yaning bolted up, vaulting over the staircase railing, sliding down the wooden banister like an uncaged monkey.
Jingyi sighed, then mimicked him, leaping down the stairs.
She reached the foyer as Yaning, beaming, flung open the door—
Jilun stood outside.
Yaning/Jingyi: "…"
Their smiles visibly collapsed.
But Jilun was Imperial, sparking a flicker of hope.
"Ji…" Yaning began, unsure how to address the officer.
"Call me Jilun," he said, nodding, his golden eyes calm and steady, belying his commanding presence. "Mr. Kelly, Miss Yan, I'm here on Her Highness Baisha's behalf, inviting you to Hausen Huaxi Hotel for a visit."
"Forgive us—Her Highness wished to come herself, but her sensitive status and the eyes on Capital Star make it safer for you to visit her."
Without hesitation, they followed Jilun to a hovercar bearing the Imperial flag.
The route to Hausen Huaxi was familiar. The hovercar glided unimpeded, other shuttles yielding, the trip faster than their last.
They entered the opulent Hausen Huaxi Hotel, this time as honored guests.
The path from lobby to elevator was unchanged, but now guarded by soldiers. From the diplomatic mission's floor, Imperial troops patrolled in trios, armed and vigilant. Jilun passed two identity checks to gain entry.
Their prior infiltration had clearly heightened Imperial caution.
Jilun led them into a suite, its wide corridor adorned with a tall mirror and plush, gilded footstools. A carved wooden screen marked its end, leading left to a study with curved sofas, a desk, a tea table, and assorted finery. Soft, bright lights cast gentle shadows on priceless art and artifacts, evoking a cinematic elegance.
Yaning and Jingyi looked up to see Baisha and Boling at the desk, one seated, one standing. Baisha pored over a thick Imperial History, while the refined Boling, with his rich voice, explained its contents—
If only his pace weren't a relentless barrage.
Yaning and Jingyi caught snippets, but the words slipped past.
Baisha, flipping pages to match Boling's lecture, spotted her friends behind Jilun. Her eyes lit up. Thrusting the book into Boling's arms, she spread hers wide. "You're here!"
The trio embraced warmly.
Boling and Jilun exchanged a glance, bowing. "We'll take our leave, Your Highness. Call if you need us."
Before departing, Boling sent Baisha a reading list, including Imperial History, for her leisure.
Baisha sighed at the lengthy list. "All those years studying Federation history, wasted."
A new nationality meant a new curriculum. She knew nothing of the Empire's systems or customs, forced to cram. A near-adult noble, her knowledge paled beside an Imperial six-year-old's.
Yaning and Jingyi eyed the list with dismay.
"You're a noble; no one'll dare mock you," Jingyi said. "Don't know something? Learn slowly."
"I haven't thanked you," Baisha said earnestly. "Without you and Zhou Bo acting swiftly, I'd have suffered more."
"They really interrogated you?" Yaning asked. "Zhou Bo said the Military's 'Core' could destroy your mental strength. We had no time to think, so we risked it, leaking it to the Empire."
"You look healthy, though—no major harm," he added, relieved.
"The interrogator went easy," Baisha said, smiling. "Remember Zhou Bo's uncle, General Ning Hongxue? He led the interrogation, likely tipping off Zhou Bo."
"Ning Hongxue?" Yaning and Jingyi said in unison. "The new High Commander?"
Baisha nodded.
"Don't tell anyone, especially Military officials. Officially, Ning's just my interrogator, nothing more," Baisha whispered, her tone chilling. "He probably knew I wasn't Federation-born, waiting for my Academy test to unravel."
"How?" Yaning gasped.
"He dropped odd hints before, suggesting I'd choose between Federation and Empire," Baisha said, waving a hand. "I didn't get it then, but now I do."
"Why didn't he report it sooner?" Jingyi asked sharply. "Or tell you?"
"Maybe it's tied to his promotion," Baisha mused, recounting her Assembly deal.
Jingyi zeroed in. "He interrogated you. Why no demotion, but a promotion?"
"He abstained in the Military vote, dodging the demotion list," Baisha said, arms crossed, skeptical. "But I'm not convinced. Gongzhili assigned him the dirty work, maybe to pin it on him, but he trusted Ning wouldn't resist. Even if Ning wasn't Gongzhili's ally, they weren't foes."
Yet Ning had seized the diplomatic thaw, backstabbing Gongzhili to claim the Commandership, timing it perfectly.
"Why Ning?" Jingyi wondered. "He's a district representative, but there are other esteemed generals."
"It's 'interim Commander,' not permanent—no seniority rules," Yaning explained. "I heard the Military, Procuratorate, and Central Assembly chose him. Ning might have Procuratorate allies, but the Assembly's judgment was key."
Jingyi frowned. "Meaning?"
Yaning shrugged. "The Federation's been on the back foot with the Empire. The Military's secret interrogation cost them a Commander—a hardline anti-Empire one. Gongzhili's faction is gutted, leaving pro-Empire groups, neutrals, or opportunists."
"The Commander can't be another Gongzhili, but nor can the Military be too Empire-friendly. They need balance, preventing generals from cozying up to the Empire after Gongzhili's fall. Ning's perfect."
"He interrogated Shasha. Logically, she'd never look kindly on him, ensuring he won't collude with the Empire. Elevating her 'enemy' reassures Federation officials they're not groveling. If she objects, she can't challenge their choice."
Yaning looked at Baisha.
She clapped. "Worthy of Command Division. The Federation plays 'balance.' Ning exploited the Assembly's mindset to leap ranks."
But Ning's gambit was risky.
Had Baisha, post-rescue, shown any warmth toward him—even feigned—his Commandership would've crumbled.
Jingyi bristled. "He played us?"
"He's still 'interim,'" Baisha sneered. "Not confirmed. Who knows if the Assembly truly wants him leading or just propped him up as a figurehead?"
For now, Baisha played along.
Beyond Ning's aid at Black Reef, his tie to Zhou Bo stayed her hand.
Zhou Bo, part of Ning's scheme, had genuinely risked all to save her.
That was Ning's vilest trick—factoring in her loyalty to friends.
The trio sighed. What a cunning politician.
"But I've got a chance to vent," Baisha said, hissing. "Not sure how to use it."
Yaning/Jingyi: "What chance?"
Baisha grinned. "I forced the Federation to make the Commander apologize. Gongzhili's too stubborn to say 'sorry' while breathing. Guess who's apologizing instead?"
Ning Hongxue.
"Apologies are useless. Beating him's better," Jingyi said, rolling up her sleeves. "He's double-S, but so are you. With us, three-on-one."
Never mind winning—assaulting a Commander was…
Ning would play the contrite penitent. If Baisha struck, she'd lose her moral high ground.
"Attack his heart," Yaning suggested, wagging a finger. "I'll tell Zhou Bo the truth. He'll cut ties with Ning."
"No need," Baisha said. "Zhou Bo's sharp. He'll see Ning's true colors without us."
In Zhou Bo's position, breaking with Ning wasn't wise.
Baisha decided to torment Ning moderately during his apology.
She needed to play the enraged noble—though, frankly, she could do so authentically.
"Forget Ning," Baisha said, smiling. "I've a surprise for you."
She handed Yaning and Jingyi small metal boxes. Inside were medallions inscribed with four characters: "All Permissions Granted."
"These are Blanslo Star's Executive Seals," Baisha said warmly. "I won't stay in the Federation long. This is the best I could secure for you. For at least a decade, Blanslo Star will symbolize Federation-Empire friendship. The Federation won't neglect it—they'll aid its growth. Seize the chance to lead it forward. If not, it's a fallback."
Appointing them Executives was like crowning them benign rulers in a peaceful era. No need for ambition—stewardship sufficed. Even coasting, they'd fare well.
A fitting honor.
Yaning and Jingyi hesitated, then accepted.
They wanted, as Baisha urged, to drive Blanslo Star forward.
If Baisha could do it, so could they.
That was true friendship.
Baisha hosted Yaning and Jingyi for lunch at the hotel. Afterward, they parted reluctantly.
She'd linger in the Federation a while; this wasn't their final meeting. Still, Yaning and Jingyi left with heavy hearts.
Baisha had business to attend.
As if on cue, the Military called: General Ning, interim Commander, would visit at 2 p.m. to apologize on Gongzhili's behalf.
In days, Ning's uniform had evolved.
The fabric, a shimmering silver-gray, was immaculate, a new star added to his shoulder. Silver tassels draped from his cloak, lending a subtle majesty. The radiance tempered his handsome features, exuding an untouchable nobility.
He smiled, reciting a prepared apology with poised ease, his voice like jade striking crystal.
"General Ning, are you here to apologize or to vex me?" Baisha said, raising a brow from her leather chair behind the desk, displeased.
"I know I'm not who you wanted," Ning said. "But General—Colonel—Gongzhili fell ill, unable to apologize. Your condition specified the 'Military Commander.' I barely qualify."
Baisha's face darkened. She seized a white coral cup and hurled it.
Ning stood still, eyes lowered. The cup shattered, a shard grazing his chin.
"Being interrogated in a restraint suit wasn't pleasant," Baisha said, her gaze cooling. "General, next time you scheme, don't assume everyone's a fool. End up abandoned by all, and it won't be fun."
"You know," Ning said, wiping blood from his chin with his hand's back. The wound nearly vanished.
He sighed. "This scar's not dramatic enough."
Baisha rolled her eyes, pointing to a shelf of ornaments. "Then ram your head into that. Blood and bruises—dramatic enough?"
"Too severe," Ning said, shaking his head. "Even a noble assaulting a Commander would cause trouble."
They both knew this scene needed to cement their rift.
How far to push it was unclear.
Ning bent, picking a shard from the floor. With a deft stroke, he deepened the cut.
Blood welled slowly.
Baisha stared, incredulous. "Are you mad? That'll scar."
Ning chuckled, glancing at her. "What general lacks scars?"
Facial scars were another matter, Baisha thought.
He pocketed the shard, wiped his bloody palm, and let the blood flow, a stark crack on alabaster.
"Your Highness," Ning said, "I've always liked my face. This scar repays your suffering at Black Reef. The remaining debt, I'll settle with your friends. Is this price satisfactory?"
He marred himself to quell her anger.
Not for her, but for his own ends.
Baisha frowned, looking away uncomfortably.
"Fine."
"Commander Ning, you're a lunatic. Everything's a transaction."
Her tone dripped with sarcasm.
Satisfied, Ning shed his cloak, draping it over his arm. His shirt, disheveled, bore crimson stains from cheek to neck, striking against his pallor.
"I'll take my leave."
Seeing Baisha's averted gaze, he thought: Still a child. Scheming aside, too soft to stomach a wound. Not very Aresian.
A grand misunderstanding.
After Ning left, Baisha sighed, resuming Boling's reading list, but a stray thought flickered:
Ning Hongxue, bleeding, was oddly captivating.
More scars might make him… even more striking.
Baisha scoffed at herself, turned a page, and resolved to forget it.