The object of their affection, Vice Admiral Abbas al-Salem, was under house imprisonment in the Imperial Throne world. By all means his stay was more than just humane. The facility he was held in was the same as the one used to hold Scarnhorst during the early days of the Imperial Civil War. It was a spacious one-story house, complete with a bathroom and a garden.

  He was assigned a butler and a maid--though he didn't doubt they were also intelligence agents--, and he had three square meals a day and a pantry of snacks and drinks. He had a pen and plenty of paper, and a full bookshelf. He had heard that the men under his command had been treated well.

  "Are you alright there, Yue?" he mumbled. It was the dawn of the sixth day. Breakfast was rye bread and ham, oatmeal with raisins, eggs, a pastry, and coffee. It was a full and delicious breakfast for sure. But Abbas barely had an appetite. He forced himself to swallow his meal.

  "Excellency, Vice Admiral," the head of the guards around the facility, Commodore Keitel greeted. "I received news that Her Majesty Empress Katharin intends to visit you today, at around nine in the morning. Please prepare yourself. And I am sorry, we will have to deprive you of your sidearm today, for security reasons. I hope you understand."

  "I see. It is an honor," Abbas said. He took his pistol from its holster and handed it over to Commodore Keitel.

  Heading into his bedroom, he figured there could be no better uniform than his military uniform. That he had still been allowed to wear it--in addition to keeping his sidearm--was a sign of the Empire's, and perhaps more importantly Empress Katharin's, respect for him.

  At nine o'clock, the Empress arrived. Out of sight, she was protected by a platoon of elite soldiers. Publicly, she was escorted by the Empire's sole living Marshal, Marshal Karl, and commander of the First Fleet, Admiral Valentina.

  “You two stay here,” Katharin ordered, before entering the house.

  The two saluted one another. Strange, indescribable feelings glitter in their eyes. Mutual respect, certainly. A little enmity, perhaps. Maybe even a shard of forbidden affection.

  The maid quietly poured two cups of coffee. “So, at last we have met in person, Vice Admiral,” the Empress started, her gaze sharp. “It was at Ventii that our paths intertwined.”

  “It has been an interesting journey,” Abbas said, picking his words very carefully. Unfortunately his wordplay was never very good. The Empress’ eyes flickered curiously. Abbas sounded like someone writing his epitaph.

  “I would like to talk personally but before that I’m afraid I have to discuss official matters. You have breached Imperial territory with several thousand ships. I know a man of your intellect won’t be doing that without good reason. What is that reason?”

  “I’d think you know that already,” Abbas replied.

  “Of course,” Katharin said, smiling even though she didn’t know that. “But I still want to listen about it from your lips.”

  “… I was chasing a defector fleet, as ordered by headquarters,” Abbas said. “Flagship Ketep, under Rear Admiral Tep.”

  “You are joking,” Katharin said, letting out a small laughter.

  “I’m not.”

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  Many gears turned in Katharin’s brain. Just what had happened here?

  “There was no such fleet. The border patrols reported nothing. In fact—you may well know we keep tabs on all of your high ranking personnel—I do not even recall a rear admiral by that name.”

  “That is impossible,” Abbas said. “… that was my order. I followed it.”

  Silence reigned as both brains worked overclock.

  Could she be lying? That makes sense. If Rear Admiral Tep has joined with the Empire, it’d be in her best interest to hide him. But it doesn’t seem in-character for her. And if he really doesn’t exist, why did Headquarters send me that order? Was it a false order? But who’d send it?

  Could he be lying? But that doesn’t make sense. Whether this Rear Admiral Tep exists or not, doesn’t matter to me. Could he really exist, as some kind of character outside the Republic’s chain of command? Some sort of secret intelligence agent, or a mercenary? Could he still be prowling Imperial space?

  Simultaneously, both sipped their coffee. “Well. I won’t pretend I understand everything about the situation,” Katharin said. “So, tell me. What are your plans now?”

  “… stay in confinement, I suppose?”

  “Everyone, leave the room.”

  Despite exchanging confused looks, all the guards left. “Are you sure of this, Your Majesty?” Admiral Scarnhorst asked professionally.

  “Yes.”

  With only the two of them in the room, Katharin smiled.

  “How would you like to be my concubine?”

  Abbas’ fingers moved incessantly. His throat felt dry. “I beg your pardon?”

  “If I could, I’d offer you the position of prince consort,” Katharin said. “Frankly, I like you. We’re birds of a feather. You’re unlike the spoiled children that my advisors are pushing me to marry. So, your answer?”

  “I’m sorry … I’m married,” Abbas said, showing his wedding ring.

  “Oh!” Katharin was shocked. “I’m sorry. When did that happen? I’m not aware.”

  “Just a few months back. We had a private ceremony,” Abbas answered.

  “I’m sorry. It’s not right to keep a newlywed in confinement like this. Your wife must be missing you. But there’s no choice for me either.”

  “I understand that. You don’t have to apologize.”

  After drinking her coffee again, Katharin made another offer. “Then, wouldn’t you join my admiralty? I can use a man of your talent. If you’re afraid for your family’s safety, we can also smuggle them from the Republic. I’ll make you a count and an admiral, and assign you command over a fleet—a proper fleet.”

  “I’m afraid I have to refuse the offer,” Abbas said. “I am a soldier of the Republic.”

  “Loyal to the end?” Katharin asked. “You know your government is awful. The upper echelons clash against one another for power and influence while the lower ranks wait for crumbles—even you, Vice Admiral—not to say of the file and rank.”

  “You mean like the old Empire?”

  “… yes. Like the old Empire,” Katharin said, waving her hand. “In a year I have done more than your republic has in its centuries of existence.”

  “But it could be erased tomorrow,” Abbas argued. “Good emperors bring a ton of progress but bad emperors could destroy the Empire with nary a flick of a hand, don’t you think?”

  “Not a risk taker, are you? That’s quite surprising. I thought you were very daring in your battles against me,” Katharin remarked.

  “The fate of a trillion people is more important than the result of a battle. Of course I prefer to be more careful.”

  Despite the sharp words exchanged, both remained fairly amiable. Brunch was served.

  “Then let’s agree to disagree. I think taking risks is justified to stagnation,” Katharin said. “I acknowledge that there was a possibility of catastrophic loss during the Empire’s civil war. But it did not happen. And that is all that mattered.”

  “Fair,” Abbas yielded. “I’m impressed by you. Even though you aren’t elected by the people, you’re working hard for them. A government not by the people, but for the people.”

  “As it should be.”

  “Both, would be the perfect combination.”

  “In an utopia maybe,” Katharin said. “But the truth is, people don’t care about people. People care about themselves. You can’t rely on people to know what’s good for themselves.”

  “Maybe now,” Abbas admitted. “But one day … one day. I’ll hold on to that hope.”

  Katharin stood up. “Earlier I said we’re birds of a feather,” she said. “I think I might be slightly mistaken. We’re the opposite wings of a single bird. I’ll push forward with what I think is right. You’ll keep your vision alive.”

  She turned around. “Perhaps one day, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “You said you’re married. If you wish, you can send letters to her, and vice versa. We’ll have to vet the contents of course. I hope you understand.”

  “Thank you, Empress.”

  “… call me Katharin. Farewell, Abbas.”