by Blaze Ward
He must really be involved.
“Would you have him serve under you, Centurion Arlo?” she asked. “Could you trust him?”
She watched Vo turn back into the ominous, terrible creature Moirrey had described, the Mountain of Doom, for just a moment.
His eyes were still on that horizon.
“Yes,” Vo finally said with a tiny sigh. “Yes, I think I would, Fleet Centurion. It would be a stupid shame to throw that kid away. Even as much as I understand why they are going to do it. I just had to speak up. Do the right thing. Does that make sense?”
Jessica smiled up at the man.
“It does, Vo,” she replied. “And Karl understands that, as much as he owes me and Casey, he owes you everything. And is willing to listen.”
She held out the paper for Vo to take, catching him off guard, however briefly.
“Karl is willing to commute a sentence of death to one of permanent exile,” Jessica said. “There will be enough others to make negative examples of, going forward, but Karl asked me if I can find a place for one Grantholm Safavid, either in Aquitaine, or Corynthe, as a personal favor to you.”
She watched Vo consume the paper quickly, blowing air out of his lungs in one long, shocked sigh.
When he looked up, there might have been tears in his eyes, however brief.
Jessica contented herself by taking a long drink of her coffee, eyes elsewhere, while this normally-taciturn man got his emotions back in order.
“I’ll take him,” Vo finally said, voice still not quite back down to where it normally rumbled. “Give me until we get back to Petron, and I’ll know if the Fleet can use him, or if we need to turn him into a pirate.”
Jessica smiled. That was the least she could do for this man.
EPILOGUE: EMMERICH
IMPERIAL FOUNDING: 176/11/23. IMPERIAL CONSERVATORY, ST. LEGIER
A knock at his door caused Emmerich to look up from his desk.
The latest manuscript was finally done. Edited. Complete.
It would be headed off to the publisher soon, where it would no doubt be extremely successful, and probably have a print run hundreds of times larger than the normal thirty to fifty thousand copies for naval students and historians that his professional books usually justified.
After all, who else could write a biography simply entitled Jessica Keller: Volume 1?
He supposed Nils Kasum might, but that man would never be willing to declassify enough secrets to improve on what would probably be the definitive document for this generation of Imperial scholars, at least until she wrote her own stories down.
If she ever did.
A silent stranger shadowed his doorway.
Em suspected the man enjoyed that part the most.
“It’s not often I find myself summoned somewhere,” Joh, His Sovereign Imperial Majesty Karl Johannes Arend Wiegand, Emperor Karl VII by Grace of God, announced to the otherwise empty room.
“Pity,” Em replied in a droll voice. “I must have a chat with Kati about that sometime.”
His reward was an Imperial eye roll as Joh entered and closed the office door behind him.
Em had already cleared a chair for the man, knowing he was coming.
Joh fixed him with a sardonic glare as he sat.
“Have you changed your mind?” the Emperor asked simply.
“No,” Em replied with a smile. “I will do this thing for you, but those are my terms. Take it or leave it.”
“And you drag me here to tell me that again, Em?”
“Yes, Joh,” Emmerich said. “You don’t seem to be listening.”
“That’s because you’re insane, Em,” Joh fired back. “And your demands are completely irrational.”
“Maybe,” Em’s smile grew wider. “And you’re still going to give them to me. I have something better than blackmail, this time.”
“What could you possibly have that you think will move me?” his Imperial Majesty growled sulkily. “What might convince me to surrender to your outrageous demands, you blackguard?”
“Casey.”
Em rather enjoyed the shudder that passed through Joh’s whole being.
“It’s not about Casey, Em,” Joh said in a tight voice.
“No,” Em agreed merrily. “But you’ll have to face her on this one if I don’t get my way.”
Joh growled at him. No words, just a low growl. The kind that indicated surrender to a greater power.
“Okay, master strategist,” Joh finally fired back in turn. “And what do I do about Casey?”
Em nodded as a placeholder.
Heike’s wedding had gone off without a hitch, right on schedule. She had even insisted on going up afterwards and commissioning the new Blackbird from the ship’s orbital drydock, a slightly banged-up Rafferty Saar standing proudly at her side as she did so.
Steffi’s state funeral three days later had served to bring the entire planet together as one family in mourning. As news spread, it was doing the same to the Empire.
But now Casey. Her Imperial Majesty Karl VIII.
“First, Joh,” Em finally said. “Come to grips with the fact that she’s a grown up. The bright, little thirteen-year-old you have in your head is a woman now. She has done us all proud, and will continue to do so, but she’s never going to fit into the sort of life that Steffi would have enjoyed. You will only drive her away by trying to force it upon her.”
“And Fribourg?” Joh asked, stepping outward to his broader duties to the Empire, and not just his family.
“Joh, the woman just saved the Empire,” Em snapped. “The people here understand that. The rest will as soon as the newsreels make the planetary rounds. There will be people out there demanding that she become the Crown Princess and that Ekke step aside.”
“No,” Joh bristled sharply.
“I agree,” Em said soothingly. “But that will be what some want. Mostly Chartists, who will find in her a champion of their cause. You, your government, and your Empire will have to come to grips with that, embrace it, and politely blunt the calls for the Charter of Humanity at some point.”
“So what do we do with her?” Joh reiterated.
“Have you asked Casey what she wants?” Em asked.
“No,” Joh said, exasperated. “I was too busy being blackmailed by you to get to that topic.”
Em smiled evilly.
“So sign the paperwork to give me what I want, solve the rest yourself, and go have a chat with your daughter. I suspect she’ll surprise you in happy ways, Joh. She’s already done that with me.”
Em got a second Imperial eye roll, which he was pretty sure was a record for a single conversation, at least in the last thirty years.
Joh stood and stretched.
“There are times I would like to hate you, Em,” he said sternly.
“That’s because I’m right and you know it, Joh,” Em replied with a shooing motion. “Now. Go away, I have work to do.”
Joh, His Sovereign Imperial Majesty Karl Johannes Arend Wiegand, Emperor Karl VII, scowled briefly, huffed once in Imperial exasperation, and departed without another word.
Em knew that he had struck true at that point.
He did have work to do. A great deal.
Fribourg would never be the same.
Keller hadn’t caused those fractures. She had merely identified the gaps, even as he and everyone else had missed them, and then happily hammered home shims to spall off jagged fragments.
2218 Svati Prime.
Ramsey.
Petron.
Ballard.
Thuringwell.
And now, St. Legier.
At least the rest of the Empire had awoken to the threat of Buran, and the need to hold the Peace with Aquitaine.
The task would take quite possibly the rest of his life.
He looked down at the cover of his manuscript one last time.
Jessica Keller: Volume 1.
Would she write his story, one of these days?
IMPERIAL FOUNDING: 176/12/05. KARL V IMPERIAL STADIUM, WERDER, ST. LEGIER
The event had been moved, of necessity. There was simply no place in the safe confines of the Imperial Palace to hold it.
Even the arena was packed, sixty thousand tickets awarded initially by lottery and going for a duke’s ransom today on the secondary market.
Casey watched the soldier in front of her step onto the grass from the tunnel under the arena, holding the bright green Imperial Standard on a tall, wooden pole as he slowly made his way to the center of the pitch.
There was an announcer handy, but he had been instructed to remain silent unless needed.
He was not.
The entire crowd fell utterly silent. Casey hadn’t known a group that large could all hold their breath so carefully at the same time.
Two lines of armed men marched crisply forward next. The 189th Division’s Color Guard was on her left. Marines from IFV Amsel, her flagship, for however brief that moment had been, on her right.
They formed a corridor.
Not facing out, protecting the inner area from the crowd, but facing in, representing the masses in the stadium, as well as the entire Empire.
Again, utter silence.
There was no precedent for this ceremony, so Casey had written one.
The first notes of the Imperial anthem could be heard, and then disappeared as sixty thousand men, women, and children came suddenly, noisily, to their feet, singing quietly along, Casey included.
Quiet as the anthem ended, men and women poised.
Anxious.
Father went next, moving just fast enough to billow out his maroon cloak as he strode to the center of the field.
Again, the crowd fell utterly silent.
Casey glanced out of the tunnel, but she could only barely make out the Imperial box where Mother and Ekke sat, along with Aunt Freya and her family. Even Saša and Asra had joined them, along with Yan Bedrov and especially Wiley.
She could feel everyone’s love from here.
Out on the pitch, she watched Father reach under his cloak and draw the Earth Sword, reforged of steel that had originally come to St. Legier from the Homeworld itself.
There had been sound before. Casey could only tell because the crowd gasped once collectively, and then fell to a silence that was almost painful to endure.
Casey turned to glance back at each of her escorts. Like Father, they wore the long, maroon cloak with the Imperial crest on it.
Lady Moirrey beamed up at her.
Lord Vo smiled down like Odin atop his throne, listening to his crows.
She wanted to say something, reassure him again, but it was unnecessary now.
He had been broken after the battle, but had found peace. Perhaps he had reforged himself, just as the Earth Sword had been.
His look said that he understood, and he nodded down at her.
Casey took a deep breath and faced forward again.
“Kasimira Helena Wiegand,” Father said in a conversational tone that the microphones picked up and echoed. “You will present yourself before this Court.”
She started off in a slow, measured stride. Vo could have kept up with her, but Moirrey’s short legs would be churning like a children’s cartoon, so Casey moved at a relaxed pace.
The crowd let out a sigh when she appeared, which almost undid her and all the careful planning and effort she had done to hold everything together this long.
Focus. You faced down the entire Imperial Fleet and the Usurper. You can do this.
Still, it was hard.
Steffi should have been here. Her sister who had been her rock for so long. Heike had helped, but she was a married woman now and didn’t need Casey’s tears staining her blouse anymore.
And Saša and Asra had shown her that it was possible to do anything she demanded hard enough, but they would go home soon.
Casey was on her own.
So be it.
Father looked like the Sun God Apollo, standing perfectly still in the middle of the green sward, the Earth Sword point down in the soil before him. Between them.
Casey had worn white robes today.
Purity. Innocence.
Mourning.
She stopped three steps before Father and kneeled in the grass, uncaring if she stained the robes. They would never be worn again.
Either she would offer them to the Imperial Museum, or burn them. It was a hard choice.
Silence.
Dead eerie calm.
The day had dawned clear and crisp. Casey was out in the wan sun now rather than the chill confines of the tunnel, but she would need more than that to leach the chill from her bones.
The blade of that sword would be so much colder.
Father lifted it easily and stepped forward. He tapped her lightly on the shoulders: left, right, left.
His face was serious, but she could still see the proud gleam in his eyes.
Again, an effort to hold the tears at bay.
For both of them.
“I proclaim you Kasimira zu Wiegand, Ritter of the Imperial Household,” Emperor Karl VII boomed out over the stadium’s public address system. “You will speak in my name as my personal representative in all things, and you will do me proud. Arise, Lady Casey, and be presented to this Court.”
Father stepped back and Casey rose carefully to her feet.
She lost it at that point.
The dam broke and tears just poured down her face, visible on the video monitors placed around the stadium as she stood.
But she could finally breathe.
She was not free. She would never be free.
But she had the chance to forge her own destiny now, a Princess who had been raised to be a Ritter, something the galaxy had never seen.
She was not the Emperor anymore. Would never be, unless something catastrophic happened.
More catastrophic.
Good Lord willing, never.
But she was an Imperial Knight now. One of the movers and shakers of Empire.
She would never again be just a girl.
“Lady Moirrey. Lord Vo,” Father continued. “Your charge awaits.”
Moirrey appeared in front of her with a smile that warmed the entire city, and much of the Empire with it.
She pulled a maroon bundle from under her own cloak and caught it like a bull fighter in the ring. She flipped one of the cords up and around Casey’s neck, where Vo grasped it and lifted the cloak into place.
Moirrey quick-tied the two cords and briefly placed a hand on hers, before stepping back and out of sight.
Casey swallowed hard in a mouth suddenly gone dry as Father stepped close again.
He stuck the Earth Sword into the grass and held the pommel with a single finger as she stepped close and placed her hand carefully around the warm grip.
As she took control, Father let go with a smile and stepped back, leaving her standing before the entire arena alone.
Casey turned.
Moirrey and Vo had taken spots in line on either side with the troops.
Glancing back, Father stood next to Master Sergeant Edgar Horst and the Imperial Standard.
She took a deep breath, conscious of the entire population hanging on pins and needles with her.
“Emmerich Wachturm,” she said in a conversational voice that emerged from every speaker in the city. “You will present yourself before this Court.”
Uncle Em emerged from the darkness of the tunnel next.
Casey had briefly considered using the Earth Sword as part of this ceremony, but trying to look impressive while hefting a two and a half kilo, meter-long blade had shown her just how strong Father must be to make it look so effortless.
Uncle Em appeared to be in even better shape. She hadn’t truly realized until now what a powerful figure he cut, v-shaped and moving like a panther as he approached.
The crowd gasped.
The man had worn that uniform for
so long that he had come to be identified by it.
Imperial Admiral of the Red Emmerich Wachturm.
The Red Admiral.
Today, he wore black.
It had taken the crowd a few, collective seconds to grasp that.
It was a sable uniform with a single, silver band around each wrist. Still the uniform of a naval admiral, perfectly styled to make the man look like a giant.
But the color of the darkness between galaxies.
The Imperial Fleet only recognized one black uniform.
Grand Admiral of the Fleet.
Commander In Chief.
A few cheers broke out, and then turned into a roar so loud it was painful.
It went on for nearly a minute before Casey raised her right hand, the one not holding the blade.
Silence fell as though she had chopped it with the Earth Sword.
Uncle Em didn’t kneel before her. That was reserved for the special occasions, like making someone a Ritter.
Something else he had refused time and again.
Instead, Uncle Em stood at perfect attention, waiting. Smiling at her.
Even Father had come around, and agreed to her and Uncle Em’s plan, eventually. The whole galaxy was going to change, starting today.
“Emmerich Wachturm,” she said, again carried to every corner of the city, and quite a few radios in system. “You are hereby promoted to the rank of Grand Admiral, and charged with commanding the Fleet. The future of the Empire we place in your hands and direct you to keep us all safe. Will you accept this charge?”
“Lady Casey,” Uncle Em nodded. “Your Majesties, I will.”
The crowd erupted again, thunderous applause and cheers filling every nook and cranny of the ancient stone edifice.
Casey let it go longer this time, let the people have this moment, when they could look forward to the man who had been the Red Admiral being in command of everything.
Protecting them from things in the night.
Again, she raised her hand.
It took longer for the noise to subside, but eventually, it did.
“Jessica Keller,” Casey said in a voice that boomed over the entire city. The entire Empire.
The entire galaxy.
“You will present yourself before this Court.”
