The holographic projection bathed Baisha's bedroom in a soft, azure glow, its light dancing across the deep blue velvet bedding and the sleek, obsidian walls of her imperial quarters. The air was still, scented faintly with the lavender oil favored by the palace staff, a calming counterpoint to the vivid scene unfolding before her. Beyond the arched viewport, Youdu Star's twin moons cast their silvery radiance, their reflections rippling in the palace's ornamental lakes below.
Baisha watched the hologram of Sipes Ronin in silence, a quiet warmth stirring in her chest, unbidden and unfamiliar.
Sipes's lecture continued, her voice a blend of authority and warmth, as if addressing a cherished sibling across the vastness of time. A luminous star chart materialized before Baisha, its surface crisscrossed with dotted orbital paths. At its edges, two miniature fleets—one red, one blue—stood poised for battle.
"Now, let's start with an introductory challenge," Sipes said, her tone teasing yet encouraging. "Defeat me, and you'll unlock the next lessons."
Baisha's eyes widened, struck by the chip's sophistication—or rather, Sipes's meticulous dedication. The program's real-time simulation, responsive and dynamic, must have required painstaking data integration. Such craftsmanship was a testament to Sipes's commitment.
Not daring to slack, Baisha crossed her legs and leaned in, ready to tackle the test.
The fleets maneuvered silently across the star chart. Orbital distances, weapon ranges, formation tactics—fleet warfare demanded mastery of countless variables, most of which Baisha had only dabbled in. Lacking expertise, she relied on instinct to guide her commands.
Five minutes later, her red fleet erupted in a dazzling burst of virtual pyrotechnics.
Baisha: [...]
Nothing for it but to try again.
The second round, the third… Sipes's strategies weren't static, but after several bouts, Baisha discerned a subtle pattern. Victory required either annihilating the enemy fleet or capturing their star system.
On the fifth attempt, after a grueling forty-minute standoff, Baisha's red fleet executed a daring ambush, narrowly clinching victory.
She unclenched her fists, realizing her palms were slick with sweat.
Lifting her gaze, she met Sipes's holographic eyes. The projection paused briefly, as if assessing the outcome, then Sipes's face broke into a radiant smile.
"To hear this, you've won within five tries. Not bad—quite the talent! I'd already prepared a speech to console you if it took a dozen attempts, but it seems I won't need it."
"Feeling tense?" Sipes asked, her grin devoid of sympathy. "Let me tell you, the battlefield is far more nerve-wracking."
She leaned back, her tone shifting to one of seasoned wisdom. "As the saying goes, a poor general exhausts his army. This is your first lesson, Cecil. As a prince, you'll command your own forces someday." Her voice softened, familial and candid. "You'll become a fine warrior—our Ronin blood ensures it. But our ancestors, fierce as they were, weren't always suited to be marshals."
"War is a science. Leading an army isn't as simple as sparring with me on this star chart. Even this victory is just a starting point."
"As a sovereign or commander, you must master strategy, manage logistics, and navigate the intrigues of power. Every detail matters—sometimes, a single oversight can spell defeat. I can't teach you everything; you'll learn through study and the crucible of battle."
"Let's begin with the basics: 'form' and 'momentum.'"
As water released from a thousand-fathom gorge shapes its course, so is form… The momentum of a skilled warrior is like a round stone rolling down a thousand-fathom peak…
Sipes's patient explanation of army formations lulled Baisha, her eyelids growing heavy. Leaning against the bed's headboard, she drifted into sleep.
Time passed unnoticed until the bedroom door opened soundlessly.
A tall, silver-haired man stepped inside, his presence commanding yet softened by the dim light. His eyes fell on Sipes's flickering hologram, still lecturing with animated vigor. He froze, lingering for a dozen seconds, then reached out, flicking the air where Sipes's forehead would be—a familiar, sibling gesture.
Sipes's image halted mid-sentence, as if sensing the signal. "If you're tired, we'll stop here for today."
"See you tomorrow, little brother."
"Tomorrow?" Cecil Ronin scoffed softly, a trace of bitterness in his voice. "Liar."
Sipes's hologram offered no reply, her eyes glinting with a mischievous smile. In an instant, the projection dissolved, her form fading like fireflies into the dark.
Cecil lifted Baisha gently, settling her onto the bed and tucking the covers around her. As he turned to leave, his gaze fell on a fluffy white cat crouched at his feet, its blue eyes fixed on him with unnerving intensity.
Cecil snorted. "I'm warning you, as emperor: make a sound, and I'll exile you to the empire's frontier."
The cat's tail flicked across the floor. Sensing his wariness, it glided forward with silent grace, weaving around his legs, rubbing affectionately.
Cecil, who had never warmed to cats, stood rigid: [...]
Seizing the moment, he scooped up the plush feline and strode out of the bedroom, as if fleeing a diplomatic blunder.
Baisha slept deeply, her rest unbroken by the usual restlessness of her interstellar life. Dreams, rare since her arrival in this era, enveloped her. In them, she sat at a lively dinner table, surrounded by faces—Sipes, Cecil, and vague, youthful figures—laughing and sharing a night of warmth and camaraderie.
When she awoke, the bedroom was silent. Sipes's hologram had vanished, as had the cat.
Baisha lingered for three seconds, then rose, washed, changed, and sought out her uncle for a meal.
Cecil was in his study, dispatching a backlog of documents with his usual efficiency. Seeing Baisha, he nodded curtly, and an attendant pulled out a chair for her at the dining table, its surface gleaming with inlaid mother-of-pearl under the chandelier's soft glow.
"Good afternoon, Uncle," Baisha said, blinking. "That chip—you had it placed in my room?"
"Yes," Cecil admitted. "In hindsight, it was reckless. You let those cats on your bed. What if one swallowed the chip?"
Baisha: "Cats aren't that foolish."
Cecil's elegant brow arched. "Are they? Your cats seem rather dim."
As they spoke, a faint meow sounded from beneath the table.
Baisha peered down, startled. The fluffy cat she'd chosen now lounged by Cecil's feet, sprawled on an opulent velvet cushion rimmed with gemstones. Scattered around were cat toys and dried fish snacks.
Baisha: [...???]
"It's not my doing," Cecil said, feigning indifference. "The creature wouldn't leave me alone."
"Really?" Baisha crouched, picking up a toy ball and waving it. "Here, kitty."
"Meow~"
The cat abandoned its lavish perch and fish, darting into Baisha's arms.
Cecil: [...]
Cecil: "Heh."