I took a step forwards, establishing my authority by forcing him back a step to sit on his firing stool. “It is no secret I wish to end the war. The fate of my nation depends on it. It seems you wish to end the war as well. I can see why – if the Emperor wins the war outright, there will be no controlling her, and if some damned desperate Allied idiot trips a second Fall, then everything is lost. End the war now, though, and there are still many opportunities for a clever man like you to mold the Empire. So you grasp at the Federation’s imbecilic opportunity, not realizing it’s a trap. You are agreeing to a twenty-year truce if that, not a permanent peace. When the Federation feels ready, they will peel systems from the Empire like the layers of an onion. If you don’t stop them now, then by your life’s end, the heart of your Empire will be at risk, and your people will remember you made the deal leading to your great nation’s ignominious end.
“But, if you leave the Commonwealth intact, we will rebuild our military might and serve as a natural counterweight to Federation ambitions. We’ve kept them out of your space for a long, long time and can continue to do so for the foreseeable future. There is more to gain by ending this war with a strong Commonwealth to oppose the Federation than there is to an armistice with an unimpeded Federation destabilizing the sector along your border.”
I stopped speaking, waiting for Count Zukov’s reply. When it came, I was disappointed.
The count spoke slowly, with deliberation. “I fail to see how Federation occupation of Commonwealth colonies would threaten us. Yes, the Federation will gain by annexing them,but those Fallspace systems are far from Imperial space. Even after they annex their occupied Urgan systems, the Federation would only share a small border with the Empire. The Royal Commonwealth’s remnant will still lie between us.”
I parried immediately, hoping the violence of my counter would overcome the weight of his arguments. “And how long do you expect that to last? If you cripple the Commonwealth, the Federation will surely dominate it, or annex it altogether, and nothing will stand between you and the Federation’s boundless ambitions.”
The count took another moment to consider my words before saying, “You only argue this way because you wish to save the Commonwealth.”
He was changing tactics. Perhaps he knew his previous arguments were less than solid. I took a gamble and attacked his weak spot. “Of course I’m trying to save my beloved homeland, but does it matter? I thought you Imperials mixed personal and public ambitions as a matter of course. I’m just trying to fit in.”
Zukov laughed. “I doubt the Emperor will see it that way.”
And now, for the finishing blow. I stepped in and punched him on the arm in a comradely manner, implying we were allies in this. “That’s why you need to help me convince her. She’s about to make a horrible mistake, and I refuse to let anything harm my Emperor, even her own ignorance. Now is your chance to change your path and save the Empire.”
Count Zukov gave me a strange, appraising look. I couldn’t read it. It held several emotions – confusion in the furrowed eyebrows, approval in the gently grinning lips, distaste in the wrinkled nose. Was he in league with me, or not?
Finally, the count spoke. “I will see what I can do. Tonight, we determine the Empire’s future.”
I held out my hand, and the demon lord took it, engulfingit in his paw without crushing it.Surely, that must be a good sign, I thought as I pumped his fist. “For the Empire.”
“For the Empire,” Zukov repeated. Then he stood and once more gave me his conflicted look before leaving me in the shooting range, alone with my thoughts.
What was that look about? I wished Boleslaw had been with me – I was certain the colonel could tell me every detail of Count Zukov’s inner monologue, but as it was, I only had my vague impressions. We would see this evening if I had read the Imperial count correctly.
THE BEST LAID DINNER PLANS
I ARRIVED FORdinner in my very best formal evening dress uniform, a short green dinner jacket, blue-black trousers with gold piping down the seams, white waistcoat with brass buttons, and perfectly tied white cravat. The only concession I made to fashion was my now-customary knee-high riding boots, shining like black mirrors as they clicked on the polished stone floor with every step. I was done up perfectly, my clothes fitted, body perfumed, hair tamed, and face enhanced by a hint of makeup, all expertly applied by Wiktor. And, of course, my broadsword and dirk hung from my sword belt, swinging in brass-accented black leather scabbards, a reminder to everyone I was a warrior, and knew how to defend myself.
Astrid looked stunning as always, in another strapless black formal dress slit up the thigh to show off her fine shoes and black gloves covering her hands and arms toher shoulders. Sparkling jeweled bands graced her wrists and upper arms, a silver belt rode low on her hips, and a matching silver strand of sapphires ran around her neck and down her chest. Finally, she wore her small crown atop her coiffure. The effect was one of stars in a cloudless night sky, and it suited her well. I told her so over dinner.
“Thank you. It is always gratifying to have one’s efforts appreciated, especially by one’s consort,” Astrid said. “You look nice as well. I always did think mess dress suited you very well.”
“If tonight be the funeral of my nation, I wanted to look my best to see the old girl off,” I replied, refusing to look her in the eye.
I heard Astrid’s annoyed puff of breath. “You’re being overdramatic,” she said, but she did not press the issue. I knew she had offered me a small olive branch and I had turned it down, but I had more important things on my mind. I could repair our relationship later.
I picked at my food for the rest of the meal. It smelled delicious, but every time I placed a morsel in my mouth, it turned to ash on my tongue and my stomach lurched most unsettlingly. I could not enjoy my meal while awaiting the main event.
The rest of the afternoon’s efforts had been fruitless. Colonel Boleslaw and the entire Royal Military Intelligence service were unable to confirm or deny the Noble Federation’s assertations aside from the fact New Melbourne was destroyed by a Despotate device. The radiation signature confirmed it, but Boleslaw reminded me anyone could have turned the activation key, regardless of the device’s origin. “Maybe with a bit more time, we could get somewhere,” Boleslaw said, but we did not have more time.
Archduke Darius had spoken to his father via subspacewave, but the Yezhidian tsardom did not even know a Fall device had detonated. His discussions with demon lords proved slightly more beneficial, as he had gotten several to agree ‘several small squabbling rivals are better than a united foe,’ but he was unsure how many could actually affect policy.
Princess Marie had found out considerably more than either of them, confirming the Federation had proof of their allegations, but the Stelsylvanian spies could not find any trace of the transmissions outside the Federation, meaning that everything d’Lyre claimed could still be a convenient fiction.
I wasn’t certain which truth I preferred.
If the Federation was lying, then the Royal Commonwealth might survive this war yet, but the threat of a Fall would still hover above us all. If the Federation was telling the truth, then the mystery was settled, the threat of another full Fall averted. All it would cost was my nation.
As the after-dinner coffee and dessert was served, Lady d’Lyre stood, her raven hair flowing artfully over one shoulder, blue eyeshadow accentuating her eyes and complementing her flowing sapphire gown while contrasting lovingly with her vibrant red lipstick. She tinged her glass for attention, and as the assembled delegates fell silent, she looked up towards the Emperor’s table. Her heavily lidded eyes locked onto mine, and she smiled, a predatory, satisfied, victorious smile.
I took a sip of my champagne. Hopefully, we’d wipe that smile off her face by the evening’s end.
“Your Imperial Majesty, Ladies and gentlemen, I wish I came before you with better tidings to celebrate your twelve-year jubilee. Instead, I bring dreadful news.”
I had known this would come. I also knew Astrid would reply. It was part of the event’s theater.
