“How much closer until we enter the Cluster’s gravitational field?” I ask the navigator, tapping my arms. The man leans back in his chair, his head tilting back. He closes his eyes briefly before cocking his head to glance at me.

“Isn’t that something more up Bowen and that other feller’s expertise?” He asks wryly. I force a smile, wincing at the aching pain stemming from my facial scar. He almost immediately sits straight in his chair and scoffs.

“I’m not particularly in the mood right now for tasteless insubordination,” I say warmly, relaxing my facial muscles as I finish.

“Right, right, sorry, erm…” the navigator fumbles in his seat. He shoots a side-glance across the bridge room over at the duo paying no attention to us—before he continues. “I’d say we’re about an hour away before I can align along the Brunsbüttel’s runaway,” the navigator pauses, as if having more in his mind. He rubs his stubby chin and gives me a curious look, “unless, do you wish for me to position the ship so you can embark quicker on a shuttle? I can do that too if you want. It would be a lot less hassle,” the navigator finishes with a side peek at his controls.

“No, no,” I answer, caressing my disfigured cheek, “I don’t believe it will be necessary. I do want you to sail into the Brunsbüttel’s harbor as usual, however…” I trail off, wincing.

“However?” The navigator asks. But without another word, my gaze wanders off to the map projection. By now, I would say most of our fleet numbers may be less than three hundred by this point. True to my word, and with the Don’s mildly reluctant blessing, most of the fleet did indeed dissipate as soon as the situation with the Rouen meteor shower subsided. Among the ship indicators on the main overlay, the Wulfhere, in particular, is beginning its descent into Lubeck’s orbit. After the shower ended, it was more or less the first to break off ahead of the fleet, and it has not so much as sent or received shuttles from the others, much less any attempts at communication.

And as far as I’m concerned, Simon still does not know of Jung’s fate. Biting down on my thumb, I remain unsure of how to break the news to him. I cannot rely on anyone else to deliver the bad news… aside from perhaps the dreadful man I call father. “The Montepuez,” I begin “where is it? If I remember correctly, it should be behind us… I think it is being led by the Shiva, is it not?” I ask, my eyes still concentrated on the strategic map.

Opposite of our formation is a stream of Mafia stragglers from Valspon—what I liken as ships that did not join our detachment and didn’t have the time to join us during or after the battle with Miss Happ’s fleet. Squinting hard enough, there are some identification codes I don’t recognize as belonging to ours, captured Federation ships, I wonder? That could also have some implications, I suppose. “That’s correct,” the navigator confirms after a few moments of confirming with his console, “though, I don’t know why you don’t just ask Bowen and—“

“That aside,” I interject, repositioning my arms under my breasts, “slow down and let the Montepuez pass us. Signal for the Shiva to also overtake us and let them gain entry into the harbor, as well,” I finish calmly, but quickly frown. “No, wait…, “would that be a good idea? If my father is still skeptical of my conductance here, would he forget his promise to let me go freely? If I let him and Beatrice dock first…

I tap my forehead, grimacing at the slight tinge. What is wrong with me? I have figured I would have put all my doubt behind on the Montepuez. I have no reason to doubt the man… right? Would he merely go as far as to put on an act in front of the others, and have his die-hard loyalists arrest me when the time is right? Would Simon even allow such a thing to happen? Shaking my head and turning away from the navigator, I rub my throbbing head.

“Maybe I should dock first so that I can talk things over with Simon?” I muse to myself, stroking my chin “Simon is bound to be there, waiting for me and the Don to arrive, would he not?” I clear my throat, recalling what Simon told me of the unpredictability of Kamon, “she wouldn’t touch… torture him, would she?” I ask pacing towards the concerned navigator. Naturally, he has no idea of what I’m even talking about. Very few, other than Olga, Sergi, and the tight-lipped personal guard do. And it is better that way, lest…

“…No,” I mutter, “if Kamon wanted to get rid of me, she would have various opportunities to do so. I wouldn’t put it past her to have loyalists even among the men on the Castelforte… even men aboard the other ships, like Sergi’s, would she not?” I question myself, amid the navigator trying to no avail to gain my attention.

In the end, his gaze darts around, unsure how to comprehend or deal with his superior suddenly losing her mind. “If Kamon had confirmation that the Metropol threat is eliminated, she would see no more need for me… and yet nothing has happened. Am I simply over-thinking my situation…?” As my muse trails off, I glimpse the navigator looking past me briefly before he cuts a sigh and turns away to work at his console. The next moment, a hand rests on my shoulder—and then another, a more hardy, metallic touch. Instinctively I reach for the second one, and reel around to find a concerned Olga.

“It’d be an understatement to say you look out of it, Madame,” Olga states, she glances at the confused navigator who’s trying not to selectively eavesdrop. Cutting loose a sigh, I gesture for Olga and I to walk out of earshot out of any other bridge crew. When it’s clear the two of us are mostly alone, I force out another utterance and grab Olga’s artificial arm. Its slightly shiny, and at a closer inspection it is obvious that it is prosthetic given the unusually smooth, plastic texture.

“I thought the docs told you to wait a few weeks until you installed any prosthetics, Olga,” I warmly remark, “doesn’t it hurt? They did say it might cause some longtime nerve damage if you use it so soon,” I finish squeezing the artificial limb. Olga lets out a mild pained scoff in response and gently rubs my head with her other arm.

“So harsh, Madame,” Olga scoffs with a wince, “whatever weighing on your mind must be serious, I take it?” For a moment, I don’t respond and instead look back at the approaching Side capital. I look back at Olga, and she nods, leaning in and speaking in a low voice. “It’s about the coup you attempted, isn’t it?” Olga cocks her head upward with a frown “you’re feeling uneasy because of that… woman, I take it?” Olga inquires about Kamon, and I respond with a nod. The lanky blonde strokes my bangs and sighs.

“Up until now, the thought of spies working for her in the fleet has never crossed my mind” I respond coolly, reaching to stroke my mature scar, “much less the possibility of assassination. I don’t want to doubt any of my men—it wouldn’t be right. We have all endured two hells in such a short span… but as Simon told me, there’s no telling what the woman may do. Would they dare defy her word? Or, rather, have they defied their word for the fleet’s sake?” I stroke my poncho before gripping them tightly, “I’m overthinking things too much, Olga. I’m no better than that wretched Zhui… this paranoia is killing me! I have no idea who I can trust now.”

“But you trust me, Li…” Olga nearly whispers, I look up into those beady worried eyes of hers, “you wouldn’t doubt me now, would you?” She asks, a subtle crack in her voice. A sense of doubt rises as I stare into those beautiful blue eyes, but they are thoughts that I immediately perish. I shake my head and push myself onto Olga, squeezing both of her arms, prompting another low groan from Olga. Why would I have such a horrible thought of doubting Olga of all people?

“Even if I wanted to, Olga, I could never hold any suspicion of you,” I say warmly. I lessen my grip on her prosthetic forearm before I continue, “you have my absolute trust. I have as much trust in you as I do with Sergi or Simon—even Brutus,” with grimacing pain, I pry a smile and Olga grins back. She then utters a sigh and gently strokes my disfigured cheek with one of her thumbs.

“Thank you, Madame,” Olga replies softly as she clears her throat, “you would not believe how much that means to me.”

“I’ll keep saying it, but you can properly thank me by dropping the mention of that name,” I reply warmly. Olga cracks a wider smile while patting me on the head. Something tells me it is futile and she won’t obey my wish.

“That aside…” Olga’s gaze looks behind me at the navigator relaxing with his feet on the console, arms crossed. Then we observe the exceedingly large view of the Brunsbüttel, its entrance expands to compensate for the entry of larger vessels. Just off to our starboard is the Montepuez, by now overtaking the Shiva. Both seem to have slowed down as if anticipating us to enter the Brunsbüttel first.

“To enter the capital first, and if we do, should I have my foot soldiers on standby in case of armed confrontation with Kamon…” I clear my breath, “and heaven forbid, Simon?”

“Have you been able to contact Simon?” Olga asks. But after she does, the lanky woman frowns.

“It would be too risky if we directly interacted with each other. There’s a possibility that Kamon could be tapping into our communication channel,” I reply wryly “and I don’t want to put Simon into any more trouble than he might be in.”

“And if you enter first with weapons at the ready, then it might cause some misunderstandings. Even more so if either is present and depending on if they are seeking to detain you—if not the rest of the Castelforte—and if they aren’t, then it would only result in needless escalation, would it not?” And avoiding a bloody civil war amid a Federation choke-hold is what Simon and I have worked to avoid. And if it simply comes around to that anyway, then what was the purpose of our painful struggling? Would there be any point to the thousands of sacrifices I’ve sacrificed if we are to subject ourselves to petty squabbling born out of frustrating misunderstanding and paranoia?! With a hoarse sigh, I step away from Olga and caress my cheek.

“No words could suffice for this frustrating impasse,” I say while gritting my teeth. From behind, Olga rests a hand on my shoulder and gently massages it.

“If it comes to it,” Olga states “you could flee to the Frankish domain and avoid Kamon’s wrath altogether…” Olga leans in closer, her warm breath makes my right ear tingle, “we can leave everything behind: just the two of us. If you want, I could conspire with Brutus about it too, if you truly trust him as a confidant,” speechless, Olga grips my arms slightly as if urging for my answer “we can do it, Li. We could assume new identities and not even the Federation would be none the wiser…”

I could feel my heart skip a few beats. I turn around to face her directly: but the loss of words has me paralyzed. Abandon the mafia? Abandon Simon and all those who fought and died so that a horrible person like me could live—only to abandon everything I’ve fought for and leave behind for a proposed new life? “To flee the mafia now, of all things…” I say softly, my gaze to the floor, “it’s a possibility that I’ve dwelled on while conversing with Miss Happ… and something I’ve considered lightly. But to do it now? After everything we’ve been through, and for such selfishness?”

“Miss… Happ?” Olga asks, visibly confused.

“The young officer I’ve met on the Yilan, back at Valspon,” I explain “she was the one who took temporary command after her superior was killed…” I clear my throat, watching Olga as she winces: likely remembering the experience she put the Taiga through. “We shared a lot of insight with each other before I had to cut our time short for Velksland… and it pains me I could not spend even a little more pain with her.”

“Was it alright for you to be exchanging information with the enemy, Madame? ” Olga asks, her eyes flicker with worriedness. I only shake my head.

“I do not think of her as an enemy. The fleet at Valspon does not act in tandem with that of Velksland’s. Miss Happ hoped to avoid what she perceived as a misstep by her commanding officer, and I trust her. I had no choice then otherwise,” I take a deep breath, “I felt sympathetic to her: why did she avoid engaging my fleet after breaking through, Olga? Because she did not wish to condemn her fellow soldiers to a pointless death. She did what she could to avoid invading the Mafia and failed, and picked up the pieces to reverse what she remarked as a disaster. She’s not my enemy, Olga, and she does not seem like the kind to be treacherous… I trust her because she seemed genuine to me,” as I finish, I glance at Olga who gives a nod of approval.

“Though it does hurt me you didn’t take me along to see this ‘Miss Happ’… I’m relieved that you found some form of understanding with a Federation soldier. I can only take your word for it, but I feel that I could relate to her worrying over your wellbeing. The decision to flee into exile is an enticing one, I’d admit… but we’d also be leaving everyone at the mercy of Kamon, wouldn’t we?” Olga asks, with a shrug of her shoulders, “If exile is out of the question, then what will you do, Madame?”

“What shall I do, indeed?” I muse while stroking my disfigured skin. If I dock first, it could cause an issue born out of misunderstanding —as would leaving for another system. If I permit the Don and Beatrice to do so first, then there is a risk of being surrounded and overwhelmed by numbers in the harbor. But even so, it would likely give Kamon and my father some reassurance that I have no urgency in kindling the needs for a coup or such. Without another word, I walk back towards the nearly-dozing-off navigator, who sits up upright as I approach.

“M-Madame? Have you decided on what we’re doing?” He asks while trying to suppress a yawn.

“Standby until the Montepuez and Shiva enter the harbor first—then we will dock afterward,” I remark, before striding towards the radio operator, informing him of the same order to pass on my intentions to the Don and Beatrice. The radio operator, who is even less clued in on what was happening just moments ago, can only afford a nod before he tunes his communications device to the two ships.

Now, I can only help and wait. And pray that the Don does not get suspicious of my rather long deliberations. Maybe I’ve caused myself more trouble than what it’s worth paddling in paranoia to likewise fuel the Don’s hallucinations. But I’ve told him of my wish to stay out of further Mafia affairs—he’s not particularly an issue, but there is always Kamon that could speak nonsense into his ear. After all, Zhui is responsible for evoking all this nonsense in the first place. But aren’t I the bigger fool now for being infected by his delusions as well?

As I watch the Montepuez and the Shiva enter the Brunsbüttel’s runways, an oddity catches my eye on the Side itself: a rather disturbingly large gaping hole is swarmed by dozens of shuttlecraft coupled with blips of smaller vessels and astro-engineers attempting to fix this. I’ve never noticed it on either occasion of passing the Brunsb üttel, and I find it rather baffling. Was this a Federation doing? Or perhaps a civilian uprising had taken place?

No matter, I suppose. I’ll have to ask Simon about it once we are off the Castelforte. Just as I head out of the bridge, I find myself approached by a platoon worths’ of elite guards, all carrying rifles or glaives. Olga, who has been following me, steps forward and keeps her prosthetic arm stretched out in front of me. Even beyond most of the platoon, I can make out Brutus, who shrugs in a sign of defeat. He must’ve been trying to stall them from visiting me, I suppose.

“What is this about?” I ask, eyeing the leader of them, a man with mutton chops that I recognize as Ishmael.

“I won’t beat around the bush,” Ishmael says in his thick Ruthenian accent “our curiosity about your plans in the capital peaked—what do you intend for us to do? It’s no secret among my men that we will have a showdown with Madam Hwang’s forces,” he glances swiftly at his platoon “couldn’t help but notice you are letting the enemy bolster their strength in such a case. There’s no way we are going about this unscratched—without punishment, you know.”

“A rather imaginative claim you have, Ishmael,” I remark, folding my arms under my breasts “I hope to avoid any pointless conflict,” as I continue, one of Ismael’s eye twitches at the words, “and so, with that said, once we enter the Brunsb üttel I want all of you to stand down—once we disembark from the Castelforte, all of you will do so unarmed and without your armor. I want to assure Simon and the others that I have no intention of inciting any further violence. Do I make myself clear?” I clear my throat while tapping my arm, “and even so, the one they will want is me. I have faith that Simon—or Kamon will not lay so much as a finger on any of you,” I scan the mix of expressions before continuing, “I ask of you… of all of you, that you bear with any discomfort you face until the situation dies down, and refrain from doing anything rash.”

Ishmael scoffs and turns his back to me. “Your blind and utter confidence in others will be your downfall, Madame. Let us hope that it does not drag the rest of us down,” Ishmael retorts as he and his platoon storm off, leaving Brutus, Olga, and I alone. After the platoon leaves, Olga turns her attention to me.

“Should I contact Sergi of your decision to, essentially, stand down, Madame?” She asks, glancing at the puzzled Brutus. I can only suspect there is similar doubt on Sergi’s end on the Hugh. After a moment of thinking, I nod, and Olga heads off back to the bridge.

“Madame…” Brutus mutters, glancing back at the now-gone platoon, “what’s going on? Or, rather, what did happen to bring this about?” There’s no use hiding anymore from Brutus, I suppose. With a heavy exhausting sigh, I rub my scarred nose ridge and look Brutus in the eyes.

“The truth is…” I trail off, biting on my lower lip, trying to force myself to tell him the truth, “the truth is… on our first visit to the Brunsbuttel, I attempted to deliver a coup with Simon’s backing…” Brutus’s face turns pale at the realization, and he takes a few steps back in shock, “but events did not go as planned. Simon even warned me of the possible ramifications once the battle is over. But now that it has come, I can only help that I—as well as everyone in the Castelforte—are spared from any cruel fate. ”

“You attempted to go against your father…?” Brutus utters, still in a state of shock. He tries to recompose himself, but he can only afford to take deep breaths. I take a few steps toward the brute and clasp his gigantic hands with mine. “I did what I had to do, Brutus,” I reply softly “if seizing power meant avoiding further bloodshed, then I would’ve deposed of the Don even if I remained accountable for my crimes against the Federation,” I squeeze Brutus’s hands before continuing, “if it meant that everyone I loved would be spared from the mercy of the Metropolitans, I would do it again if I had the chance.”

“And you never shared this with me, not even once?” Brutus asks softly. Though he looks less pale now, Brutus still looks deeply betrayed by the seeming lack of trust he imagines I had in him.

“I wanted to protect you,” I reply, my voice cracking a little “if you had knowledge of it… and indeed if Kamon dared to punish the Castelforte … I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt, Brutus,” as I finish, Brutus gives a slow, reluctant nod. And then, unexpectedly, Brutus wraps his arms around me, holding me close to him. “I’m sorry, Brutus,” I say trying to keep my voice from stifling, “it was hard on me to keep it withheld from you.”

“I understand, Li,” Brutus responds, stroking my head, “maybe if I was in your shoes, I would’ve done the same if I was fearful of possible retaliation. I think you made the right call, up until the last second,” Brutus says after taking a heavy breath. We remain like this for a little while until Brutus releases me from the embrace.

“Brutus?” I ask, swallowing my self-doubt, “you… you don’t hate me, do you?” As if caught off-guard, Brutus lets out a scoff. He pats me softly on the shoulder before sliding his hand to stroke my scarred cheek.

“I could never dream of it, Li,” Brutus remarks “for some reason or another, it’s kinda impossible for me to, after all,” before I get the chance to register what he says, Brutus takes a few steps and heads back the way he came.

“Where are you going?” I ask, surprised at his sudden leave. Brutus glances back with a grin.

“I’m just going to check on that Ishmael guy to make sure he’s doing as he’s told,” Brutus says rather slyly. I crack a smile—bearing the pain that comes with it before letting Brutus go on his way, waving him off all the same. With Brutus’s departure, I am now more r less alone in this corridor. And soon enough, it is the Castelforte’s turn to enter the Brunsb üttel, and it does so at a gradual pace. As we enter the mouth of the Side, I clench my chest, wondering if this is the best course of action, after all.