The dawn light over Tianshu Star filtered through the crystalline panes of the Crown Prince's chambers, casting prismatic flecks across the polished obsidian floor. Bai Sha Roning stood at the center of the room, her silhouette framed by the vast window that overlooked the palace gardens, where Blackbirds—both flesh and spirit—wove through iridescent blooms. Her chambers were a paradox of eras: ancient stone walls etched with constellations met sleek holographic panels that flickered with star-charts, treaty drafts, and urgent missives from distant systems. The air carried the faint scent of star-blooms, mingling with the metallic tang of machinery humming beneath the floor.
She wore her crown, a delicate circlet of star-forged metal, its sapphire pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat, as if it were an extension of her spirit. Her coronation robes had been replaced by a tailored tunic of midnight blue, its silver embroidery glinting like a comet's trail. Little White Chirp, now a resplendent Blackbird with feathers that shimmered like liquid moonlight, perched on a gilded stand, its crest flaring as it sensed her tension. Bai Sha's fingers grazed the scepter on her desk, its obsidian surface cool yet alive with a subtle warmth that seemed to whisper of ancient power. The weight of her new role pressed against her, heavier than any mech she'd piloted.
Cecil Roning's words echoed in her mind: The throne is a crucible, kid. It'll forge you or break you. Today, she felt its heat more keenly than ever. The Imperial Council awaited, a gathering of nobles and military leaders whose loyalty was as varied as the stars they governed. The agenda was the Federation's recent reforms—a delicate dance of opportunity and suspicion. The Federation, still scarred from its splinter war, sought an alliance, but the Empire's pride ran deep, and trust was a currency rarely spent.
The council chamber was a cavern of grandeur, its walls clad in dark marble veined with silver, reflecting the soft glow of floating orbs that mimicked distant suns. At the chamber's heart stood a table of polished crystal, its surface a holographic map of the galaxy, where stars pulsed and trade routes snaked like rivers of light. Bai Sha took her place at the head, the crown's sapphire casting fleeting shadows across the map. Cecil stood to her right, his imperial purple robes a stark contrast to the chamber's cool tones, his presence a silent bulwark against the councilors' scrutiny.
Lord Kael, a grizzled admiral with a scar that carved a jagged path across his cheek, spoke first, his voice rough as asteroid gravel. "The Federation's reforms are bold, I'll grant them that. But their military's in tatters—fractured by their own rebellion. They covet our technology: our mechs, our shields, our star-drives. What do they offer us in return?"
Lady Veyra, her silver hair coiled like a nebula, leaned forward, her voice smooth as the silk of her emerald robes. "Trade routes, for one. Their outer systems are rich in crystal ores—vital for our reactors. And they propose shared research, a pooling of knowledge. The Federation may be wounded, but their scientists are unrivaled."
Bai Sha's fingers traced the scepter's sapphire, its glow intensifying under her touch. She recalled Zhou Jue's guarded optimism during the coronation banquet, his hints at joint military exercises, and Ya Ning's fervent belief in a shared future. The Federation was not just a political entity; it was her friends, their dreams woven into the galaxy's tapestry. But the councilors' eyes—some warm with hope, others cold with calculation—reminded her that dreams alone would not sway the Empire.
"What say you, Your Highness?" Lord Kael's gaze was a blade, testing her mettle.
Bai Sha leaned forward, her voice steady, each word measured like a pilot charting a course through a meteor storm. "The Federation's wounds are fresh, but their spirit endures. They offer partnership, not subservience. We stand to gain more by meeting them as equals than by demanding tribute. An ally's strength bolsters our own; a vassal's resentment festers."
A murmur rippled through the chamber, a tide of approval and dissent. Lord Kael's frown deepened, his scar twitching, but others nodded, their expressions softening. Cecil's lips curved, a flicker of pride that warmed Bai Sha's resolve.
Lady Veyra's eyes narrowed, her voice a velvet challenge. "And what of their rebels? The Sixteenth District's bid for independence remains a thorn in their side. If we bind ourselves too closely, we risk their enemies becoming ours."
Bai Sha's thoughts flickered to Zhou Jue's cryptic warnings about the Sixteenth District, the shadow of Ning Hongxue's rebellion still lingering like a storm on the horizon. "The Sixteenth District is the Federation's burden," she said, her tone firm but diplomatic. "We'll watch their borders as we watch our own. An alliance doesn't mean blind trust—it means shared vigilance. Our defenses will hold, with or without their troubles."
The debate unfurled like a starship's sails, each councilor a player in a chess game of motives and ambitions. Lord Kael pushed for military dominance, Lady Veyra for economic leverage, while others wove subtler threads of intrigue. Bai Sha navigated their arguments with a blend of instinct and the lessons Cecil had etched into her: Listen, but don't bend. Speak, but don't reveal. Yet she felt their gazes, weighing her youth, her inexperience. She was the Blackbird's heir, but to them, she was a spark yet to prove its flame.
As the session adjourned, the councilors dispersed, their robes whispering against the marble. Bai Sha lingered, her fingers brushing the holographic map, where the Federation's systems glowed a soft amber. Cecil joined her, his shadow falling across the stars.
"They're circling like vultures," she said, her voice low, a wry edge masking her unease. "Half want to steer me like a mech, the other half want to scrap me for parts."
Cecil's laugh was dry, a rumble like distant thunder. "Welcome to the game, kid. The throne's a beacon for ambition, and you're the brightest star in their sky. You held your own today—better than I did when I was your age."
Bai Sha arched a brow, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "You? I thought you came out of the womb glaring at councilors and brandishing a sword."
"I learned fast," he said, his gaze drifting to the map, where the Empire's borders pulsed a steady blue. "But you've got an edge I never had: friends across the stars. The Federation's not just a bargaining chip—they're your anchor. Use them."
She nodded, her thoughts drifting to Ya Ning's infectious laughter, Zhou Ying's quiet resolve, Jing Yi's unyielding loyalty. The Federation was more than treaties and trade routes; it was the people who'd fought beside her, who'd seen her not as a prince but as a soul forged in fire. "I'll need them," she admitted, her voice softening. "This crown's already giving me a headache."
Cecil clapped her shoulder, his grip warm and steady. "Good. A headache means you're thinking. Now, let's get out of this crypt and breathe some real air. You're starting to look as pale as a councilor's ledger."
They stepped into the palace gardens, where the air was thick with the honeyed scent of star-blooms and the distant hum of Tianshu's skyline. Little White Chirp darted from its perch, weaving through crystalline petals, its chirps a cheerful counterpoint to Bai Sha's pensive mood. The Blackbirds in the garden, their feathers glinting like polished steel, seemed to watch her, their eyes gleaming with an intelligence that felt almost ancestral.
Bai Sha kicked a pebble, watching it skitter across the path. "I thought piloting a mech was hard. This—councils, alliances, politics—it's like fighting a war with words instead of blades."
Cecil's smirk was faint but genuine. "Words are blades, kid. Sharper, sometimes. But you've got the knack. Just don't let them dull your edge."
She grinned, summoning her Blackbird spirit. Its silver-blue wings unfurled, casting a cascade of light across the garden, the air thrumming with its power. The throne was a crucible, but Bai Sha was no stranger to fire. She'd face its shadows, wield its flames, and carve her own path among the stars.