The Imperial capital's docking bay stretched out like a cathedral of steel and ambition, all soaring arches and polished surfaces. This shows the power and wealth of the empire.
As the Nightshade's engines wound down with their characteristic whine, I could see Admiral Korrath waiting with what looked like half the Imperial Guard.
His posture shows barely contained fury mixed with military discipline—the kind of stance that said he'd been practicing his lecture for hours.
"Showtime," I muttered to Meus, who had already shifted into perfect professional mode despite what had happened between us during the hyperspace jump. Her face was an unreadable mask, but I caught the slight tension in her shoulders that meant she was ready for trouble.
I stepped off the ship like I owned the damn station—which, technically, I did. Admiral Korrath stepped forward immediately, his weathered face displaying the kind of controlled irritation that came from three decades of military service and having to deal with Imperial politics.
"Lord Raven," he said. "The Emperor has been... concerned by your absence."
The way he said 'concerned' made it clear he meant 'absolutely fucking livid.'
Molly, Korrath looked like he wanted to space me personally. In the game, he'd always been a pain-in-the-ass NPC who gave you tedious escort missions. But here? Here he was a genuine threat with forty years of military experience and a direct line to Daddy Dearest. Good thing I had the ultimate cheat code—being the Emperor's only heir.
"Has he?" I replied, letting Raven's natural arrogance bleed into my voice. "I've been handling Imperial business. Successfully, I might add."
"Taking unauthorized action in neutral space without Imperial sanction—" Korrath began, but I cut him off with a gesture that would have gotten anyone else shot on sight.
"Admiral are you questioning my judgment?"
The docking bay went dead silent. Every soldier, every technician, every pilot suddenly found somewhere else to look. This was the moment—defer to military protocol, or establish dominance like the Crown Prince I was supposed to be.
Behind me, I felt Meus tense. She knew the old Raven would have drawn steel by now, probably killed someone to make a point. This Raven was playing a different game—still dangerous, but surgical rather than brutal.
"I conquered an entire system while you were filing reports," I continued. "The Grokkies now fly Imperial colors and pay Imperial taxes. Perhaps we should discuss who's been more productive with their time."
Korrath's jaw worked silently for a moment, clearly torn between military protocol and the very real fact that I'd just handed the Empire a major strategic victory. Finally, his training won out.
"You are Lord Raven Vex'thara," he said through gritted teeth, "heir to the Dominion throne and Crown Prince of the Empire."
"Exactly." I stepped closer, close enough that he could see the red gleam in my eyes. "And what does that make you, Admiral?"
"Your father's appointed military commander."
"Appointed. Not heir. Not family. Appointed." I let that distinction hang between us. "I suggest you remember that hierarchy, Admiral. It might save us both some unpleasantness."
As I spoke, something strange happened—the palace's security systems flickered, just for a moment, but enough that several guards glanced nervously at their weapon displays. The building's AI was responding to my emotional state again, and I still had no fucking idea why.
Korrath noticed it too, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The Emperor is waiting, my lord. He's... eager to hear about your initiative."
"Then let's not keep him waiting," I said, brushing past the Admiral like he was furniture.
As we walked through corridors lined with Imperial banners and enough firepower to level a city, Meus fell into step beside me. Her professional mask was perfect, but I caught the slight exhale of relief when Korrath didn't try to arrest me on the spot.
"Nicely done," she murmured, barely audible.
"Just getting started," I replied, and meant it.
The throne room doors loomed ahead—twenty feet of reinforced durasteel decorated with the Imperial seal. Beyond those doors lay my father, the man they called "the one death fears," and apparently a princess who'd decided to show up early for our wedding negotiations.
No pressure at all.
"ENTER."
The single word hit us like a shockwave before the doors even opened. When the Emperor spoke, reality itself seemed to pay attention. The massive portals swung inward with pneumatic precision, revealing the heart of Imperial power.
But my attention wasn't on the Emperor sitting in judgment on his obsidian throne, or the assembled court watching like vultures circling fresh meat.
It was on her.
The Zephyrian Princess stood beside my father's throne like she belonged there, and damn if she didn't look the part. Where I'd expected some pampered political pawn, I found myself looking at a woman who radiated the kind of confidence that came from genuine power—and knew exactly how to wield it.
She was tall with an hourglass figure that the form-fitting Zephyrian diplomatic gown displayed to devastating effect. The deep blue fabric hugged every curve—from her full breasts to her narrow waist to hips that suggested both elegance and strength.
When our eyes met, she smiled like a chess master who'd just spotted an interesting new piece to play with.
Fuck I thought, . this complicates everything
"My son," the Emperor said, and somehow managed to make it sound like both greeting and death threat. "How good of you to finally join us."
He didn't move from his throne, but his presence filled the room anyway. My father was the kind of man who displaced space just by existing—tall, broad-shouldered, with the same red eyes I now wore and an aura of contained violence that made smart people very nervous.
I'd faced him down in the game dozens of times, but this was different. This was real, and he was pissed.
"Father," I replied with a slight bow—enough to show respect, not enough to show submission. "I came as soon as I finished securing our new protectorate."
"Ah yes." His voice carried across the throne room like distant thunder. "The Grokkies situation. Tell me, son—did I give you permission to conduct independent military operations?"
Every courtier in the room leaned forward slightly. This was the kind of Imperial family drama that could end with executions or promotions, depending on how it played out.
"You taught me to show initiative," I replied, letting steel enter my voice. "The opportunity presented itself. I took it."
The princess stepped forward before my father could respond, breaking protocol with the kind of casual confidence that suggested she made her own rules.
"So you're the infamous Lord Raven," she said, her voice carrying musical undertones that reminded me oddly of Commander Zyx'ara. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."
Her smile was sharp enough to cut durasteel. "I don't like being avoided."
I caught Meus watching the princess with the kind of professional assessment that wasn't entirely professional. Her hand rested casually near her sidearm, and I realized with dark amusement that my bodyguard was sizing up my potential bride as a threat.
Not entirely wrong, either.
"Your Highness," I said, offering another slight bow. "Forgive me. Duty called."
"Oh, I'm sure it did." She moved closer with fluid grace, each step calculated to draw attention to the sway of her hips, and I caught her scent. "I hear you've been conquering systems in your spare time. How... productive of you."
"Just keeping busy," I replied. "I hate being idle."
"Wonderful." Her smile turned predatory as she shifted her weight slightly, the movement making her dress tighten across her curves in ways that were definitely not accidental. "I have so many ideas about how to keep you... occupied."
The way she said it made several courtiers shift uncomfortably, and I felt heat rise in my chest that had nothing to do with anger. This woman was dangerous in ways I hadn't expected.
I was starting to like her already.
"ENOUGH." The Emperor's voice cut through. "We have business to discuss. The wedding arrangements—"
"Can wait," I interrupted, and the entire court held its breath.
My father's eyes narrowed to red slits. "Excuse me?"
This was it. The moment where I either established myself as Crown Prince material or got myself exiled to the Outer Rim. Time to go all in.
"The Grokkies conquest changes our strategic position," I said, my voice carrying across the silent throne room. "Three major hyperspace routes now under Imperial control. New mining rights. A tributary system that will pay for itself within two years."
I gestured toward the princess, trying not to notice how the movement made her dress shift in interesting ways.
"Perhaps Her Highness would like to hear about the Empire's expanding power before we discuss... personal arrangements."
The princess's eyebrows rose, and for a moment, something like genuine interest flickered in her eyes.
"Actually," she said, "I would. Very much."
The Emperor leaned back in his throne, and I caught the ghost of what might have been approval in his expression.
"Very well," he said finally. "Tell us about your conquest, my son. Leave nothing out."
As I began to speak, describing the tactical brilliance of the Grokkies campaign, I noticed three things:
First, the princess was listening with the kind of attention that suggested she understood military strategy better than most of my father's generals.
Second, Meus was watching both of us with growing tension, her professional mask starting to crack around the edges.
Third, every time I emphasized a particularly clever tactical decision, the palace's lighting systems flickered slightly in response.
Whatever was happening to me, it was getting stronger.
And I still had no idea what it meant.
But one thing was becoming crystal clear—my simple plan to avoid an arranged marriage and enjoy my new life as a galactic prince was about to get a lot more complicated.
The princess was smart, dangerous, and apparently as interested in power as she was in whatever physical assets had earned me my reputation. Meus was getting jealous in ways that could turn professional very quickly. And my father was watching all of it with the kind of calculating expression that meant he was already three moves ahead of everyone else in the room.
Time to see if this gamer could handle playing against the galaxy's best.
Game on.