15th January, Space Era Years 102.
One day after the proclamation of the Great Military Reform, the annual budget assembly was held within the Central Council Hall of the Centory Kingdom Reich, in the capital city of Berlyn.
Inside the grand hall—bathed in golden light and walled with crystalline glass—Lord Aelyzabeth von Thors sat upon the command chair at the centre, surrounded by the High Council of Ministers and General Staff. Figures and projections shimmered in the air: though military expenditure had risen sharply, the kingdom's overall performance was far beyond expectations.
Reports revealed that in the fifth quarter, the empire's deficit had stood at 19.79%, yet after accounting for the profits of the Industrial Guilds, Energy Consortiums, and Interstellar Trade, along with revenues from conquered territories, the deficit had swiftly declined—expected to fall to merely 9% in the sixth quarter.
The government no longer bore the burden of war debt, for the Kepler Union had renounced all reparations under the Treaty of Zyxinorax.With the revival of free trade, Centory's economy entered a new age of stable recovery.
The people now hailed Aelyzabeth von Thors as "The Redeemer of National Honour"—a leader who restored dignity through war, economy, and welfare alike. Her name resonated across every channel of interstellar communication.
After the session concluded, Lord Aelyzabeth, accompanied by the Regent General Aelaera von Escheinsen, received a private invitation from President Rudolf von Escheinsen to meet within his personal chamber at the Presidential Palace.
The room was softly illuminated by pale-blue plasma chandeliers. On the obsidian table lay several classified dossiers and two glasses of aged Lyra red wine.
Aelyzabeth spoke first—her tone calm, yet edged with restrained steel.
"I have always trusted you… but tell me, Rudolf—why can you not return that trust?"
Rudolf set his glass down slowly, smiling with icy composure.
"You refer to my opposition to the war, perhaps?"
"Not that," Aelyzabeth replied. "I speak of your meeting with my sister, Margaret. Was that for peace… or for attention?"
Rudolf chuckled softly, yet his gaze remained sharp and unyielding.
"Attention? No, my Lord. I only seek what rightfully belongs to me—the throne of mankind."
Silence fell—a stillness heavy as vacuum. Aelyzabeth lowered her eyes to the crimson swirl of wine before her, then looked up with a faint, glacial smile.
"So you admit it, then. Your meeting was not for peace, but for power. And yes—you have my attention now, Rudolf. But do you understand the storm you've just summoned?"
Rudolf did not avert his gaze. His reply was as measured as it was piercing.
"And do you, my Lord, truly believe that Aerys Vilozyver, your son, will inherit all that you have built? He is far too young. Even my Grandson, Ravirys, is barely a year your eldest son—and already bears the aura of an emperor."
The words struck deep—a blade turned political. Aelyzabeth understood immediately: Rudolf was questioning the fragility of the Thors and Vilozyver line, built upon the brilliance of one solitary genius. Should she fall, everything would collapse with her.
Rudolf leaned back in his chair, his voice composed yet dangerous.
"I offer a pact that benefits us both. Let me ascend as the Emperor of Humanity, and upon your passing, your house shall be granted vast lands, duchies, and everlasting nobility. I will ensure your name endures in history forever."
Aelyzabeth paused—her eyes cold as frozen starlight.
"I shall consider it," she said softly. "But this is not yet the time for decisions."
Rudolf lifted his glass once more, smiling faintly.
"In time, you will agree, my Lord. In the end… you always do."
Aelyzabeth said nothing. She rose with regal poise; Aelaera followed in silence. At the doorway, Aelyzabeth turned once, her violet eyes gleaming like tempered steel.
"Do not underestimate me, President Rudolf."
The metallic door closed with a whisper, leaving Rudolf alone beneath the blue glow—his reflection upon the wine's surface forming the smile of a devil, already moving his pieces on the grandest political chessboard in the history of mankind.
Thus ends Chapter C-XIII.