The Emperor
Written by Stella Watson
Part 1: Darella
Chapter 1.
The Soldier
Serion couldn’t see anything. He tried to feel for the wall, but no matter where he turned, darkness surrounded him. He chose a direction and crawled that way, but to no avail. He was desperate and scared.
Finally, he began to shout. “Help! Please! Someone!”
He heard a sound as if something was scraping the floor behind him. Serion shuddered and turned around in fear, but he couldn’t see anything. Yet, he felt like he knew exactly what was following him.
Trembling, he tried to escape, but all his efforts were in vain. Something grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.
“Found you,”a voice whispered in his ear.
The man screamed, but his attempts to break free from the grip were futile.
Then someone slapped him, and Serion woke up.
“What… What happened?” he asked the soldier standing over him, who had been shaking his shoulder.
“You were shouting in your sleep again. This is the third time in the last few days, even though the lights were on. Maybe you should consider getting some treatment.”
“No! I don’t need it! I’m just under a lot of stress lately, and I’m having trouble sleeping.”
“No matter what, you missed the morning report again. The Grand Admiral was furious.”
“She’ll get over it,” Serion muttered, rubbing his eyes.
“Tell that to her face! She said that when you’re ready, you need to report to her. I mean, it’s odd, I didn’t think she even knew who you are. But she asked for you specifically. I wouldn’t keep her waiting for too long.”
„Was anyone else late?”
„No. Just you.”
Serion sat up on the uncomfortable bed and sighed.
„All right… I’ll go soon.”
The soldier nodded and left, leaving the half-awake man to himself. Serion buried his face in his hands and sat in silence for a while. His fingers traced the old scars that ran vertically across his black eyes. Although they were barely visible, many had asked him how he got them and why he hadn’t gone blind. Serion simply said he was lucky during an attack.
The other soldier was right. In recent times, his nightmares had returned. He had tried to relax before sleep, took sleeping pills and sedatives, but to no avail. He even managed to convince his roommate to leave the night lamp on just for his sake. Serion was afraid of the dark and couldn’t fall asleep unless there was some minimal light around him, and on the spaceship, every cabin was pitch black at night.
The man took a deep breath and got out of bed. After a few stretches, he quickly took a cold shower, just the way he liked it. While others would have frozen, the icy water had a particularly good effect on his coal-black skin. Once finished, he put on his gray uniform, the color of which immediately revealed that his rank was nothing more than an ordinary soldier. There were no decorations on his chest. This often led to looks from those in more special units, but he didn’t care.
Hurriedly, he combed his waist-length white hair with his four fingers, then looked in the mirror and realized his appearance was terrible. His narrow face was more sunken than usual. His pitch black eyes were puffy and reddened, not concealing the fact that he had cried in the shower.
Finally, he retrieved the comb, which he had thrown under the bed the night before, and quickly untangled his hair with it. Then he pulled it back with a hair tie. He didn’t want to appear too disheveled in front of the admiral.
Once he was ready, he grabbed an energy bar from the cabinet to have something for breakfast, but he started eating it on the way. He didn’t want to keep his superior waiting any longer.
As he hurried through the spaceship’s corridors, he nodded to every passing soldier and worker. Most of them reciprocated the greeting, even though he didn’t have particularly good relationships with any of them.
Serion wasn’t the friendly type. He preferred to be alone. His roommate tried to strike up conversations, but Serion eventually told him honestly that he didn’t become a soldier to make friends. He didn’t want to talk about himself or let others into his personal life. He spent his free time alone, either working out to stay in shape, reading, studying, or resting. During duty, he kept to himself. He enjoyed the exercises and excelled in many aspects compared to others. He was excellent at swordplay and close combat, but less skilled with firearms. While he could defeat others with almost anything in his hand, there was only an eighty percent chance he’d hit something with a rifle. Additionally, he was often asked to serve as an interpreter. Serion was an exceptional oral communicator and spoke numerous languages, a characteristic of his species. He learned the languages of any other species in the Galaxy much faster and more proficiently than anyone else.
They have wanted to promote him several times already, and they would have even appointed him to lead special units, but he had always refused. He didn’t want anything else but to stay in the background.
He reached the spaceship’s bridge, just as he finished nibbling on the energy bar. He quickly disposed of the wrapper and took a deep breath as he walked through the door.
Sephra Silerin, the Grand Admiral, stood in front of the massive panoramic window. Her noble lineage was immediately evident in her upright posture as she waited with pride in her stance. She had a humanoid form, much like Serion. Her build was tall, muscular, slender, and notably flat. Whether this was due to her species or her unique anatomy, no one dared to ask.
She tied her long, wavy hair back. Only a few curly strands escaped from the side of her forehead, apart from the fringe. Her black and deep purple locks seemed to glisten in the light. Like every admiral, she had a uniform, black and tight-fitting. Her large eyes were black with purple irises. Her skin was pale white, and her lips were thin. She only applied black makeup to her eyes, as if she had no time for anything else or simply didn’t care. Thanks to her elongated ears adorned with black metal jewelry, her sharp hearing could detect the approaching soldier from a distance. She turned around and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her expression remained unchanged, as stern as before.
Most soldiers feared the admiral. She was preceded by her reputation. Most believed she was excessively strict and merciless. Given that, nobody asked what was she doing on a smaller starship. Sephra’s place would have been on the Emperor’s planet, but she simply showed up and took charge without any explainaton. The soldiers obeyed her without a word.
Serion walked calmly up to her and nodded his head.
“Grand Admiral.”
Sephra nodded and motioned for him to straighten his back. Her voice was icy as she spoke.
“Zan. You didn’t report this morning, once again.”
None of the personnel on the bridge were surprised that the Grand Admiral was speaking directly to the soldier. Sephra never wasted time, and while she expected respect, she didn’t beat around the bush; she got straight to the point.
“I apologize.”
The woman shook her head and started walking, motioning for him to follow. Serion obediently followed.
They walked together along the long corridors, with the admiral not even glancing at him.
“This is the third time in the last few days. Nightmares again?”
“Yes.
“I hope it won’t hinder you in any way.”
“Not at all. I’m ready.”
“Good. We’re almost there.”
When they entered the hangar, someone was already waiting for them. A tall man was standing in front of one of the spacecrafts. His skin was covered in silvery-blue scales that gently glowed under the strong light. Thin, barely visible webbing stretched between his long, slender fingers. He had a symmetrical face with thin, almost nonexistent lips. Because of his extremely long legs, he was about twenty centimeters taller than Serion, who was not short himself. He appeared incredibly handsome and was well aware of it. His sky-blue eyes were icy, but when he saw the admiral, they seemed to soften.
Although he might have seemed kind at first glance, upon closer inspection, one could notice how condescending his smile was. He could pass for a noble with his demeanor. Despite being an aquatic being, he had hair, which didn’t surprise Serion, as many altered their appearances nowadays. Its dark blue color resembled the clear sea. It was cut it short, but it was messy, except for a single long, braided strand that reached down to the middle of his back.
He wore a deep blue uniform, indicating his role as a pilot.
With a contemptuous smile, he assessed the common soldier while reaching into his pocket with one hand, pulling out a cigarette. It appeared to be a careless gesture, but it was at this moment that Serion noticed the first peculiar detail. As the man raised his hand to his mouth, his fingers trembled almost imperceptibly. The moment he took a drag from the cigarette, the pilot grinned, and his deep-set eyes clouded over.
When the pilot spoke, his voice sounded bored.
“Is this him?”
Sephra nodded, then turned to the soldier.
“Zan, let me introduce you to Angron Saagara. I brought him here, as he’s the best pilot in the entire imperial army. He’ll accompany you.”
Serion obediently bowed before the man, as his rank was much higher than his own.
Angron didn’t even say anything to the soldier; instead, he turned to the woman with a questioning expression.
“I don’t want to be repectless, but I believe there might be a greater need for me here. Anyone can transport a kid. Did you really bring me here for this? I’m sure there are more important missions than this…”
Serion remained silent. Although it may have been true that, by the common calculations, he might be a year or two younger than the pilot and the admiral, he decided not to interject.
Also, the fact that Angron dared to question the Grand Admiral’s order, told a lot about him and his relationship with her.
Sephra didn’t seem angry by his stubbornness.
“At the moment, you have no other tasks, Angron. There’s no need for you to sit somewhere on the ship in boredom. You will accompany him to Darella, whether you like it or not.”
The pilot sighed but reluctantly nodded. Despite his high rank and numerous commendations, he couldn’t disobey the Grand Admiral’s command.
“Understood. We’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t forget the mission! Look for a young girl named Solar.”
“Got it.”
The admiral gave a signal indicating they could depart. Angron turned around and ascended the ramp, and Serion followed him without a word.
The gray spacecraft was small but suited their purpose. They only had to land on the planet orbiting below.
“What’s your name again?” Angron asked casually as Serion took a seat next to him in the cockpit.
“Serion. Serion Zan.”
“I see. Let’s try to complete this mission as quickly as possible, clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
As the spacecraft departed from the hangar, Sephra closed her eyes for a brief moment before turning around and walking down alone the long corridor, heading straight for the bridge. Halfway there, she glanced at the small device on her wrist, which served multiple purposes. It monitored her vital signs, allowed her to send messages, and displayed the time.
Sephra took a deep breath and walked through the massive gateway leading to the bridge.
There was dawn on Darella. The starship’s wide, dark windows reflected the rising sun’s rays, casting an orange glow over the planet’s metallic shield. The Grand Admiral of the Empire watched the spectacular sight with shimmering eyes.
***
Just a short jump away from Darella, twenty starships hovered in space, awaiting their next move.
Within the flagship’s command center, behind the panoramic window, a tall, young man paced back and forth. His shoulder-length, straight, copper-red hair, which seemed to glisten in the reflected light, neatly framed his handsome face. He appeared as if his pale skin had never been touched by the sun. His eyes had no pupils or irises; both emitted a faint blue glow that shifted to green after a few minutes.
He wore a long, dark brown cloak over a simple black top, trousers, and tall boots. He didn’t wear armor; he preferred to move freely. Around his neck hung a silver chain with a small vial containing green powder. Attached to his belt was a holder carrying a massive, shimmering, red-bladed sword. Its hilt shimmered in a bronze hue.
He was the eccentric supreme Leader of the Rebel Empire, known by all.
The man turned around and surveyed his subjects. On the massive starship’s bridge, several Rebel soldiers in armor stood guard, motionless. They all had their weapons ready but lowered their heads as their Leader began to observe them. The same respect was shown by those who silently worked at the instruments. They were drowsy, as it was dawn. It was time for a shift change, but they did not complain. In the presence of their Leader, they did not want to show impatience.
The red-haired man turned his head as the gate opened, and someone rushed through it. The newcomer arrived just as the Rebel Leader’s bright green eyes shifted to an unnatural bright crimson color.
“Captain! I’m glad you finally made it.”
The man straightened up, clasped his hands behind his back, and stood with his head held high, waiting with dignity. It seemed he was the only one who was not frightened by the Leader’s bizarre gaze.
The Captain, a commanding figure by appearance, appeared to be at least two decades older and several inches taller than the Leader He wore his short, black hair elegantly swept to the side. Despite his age, his face seemed unnaturally smooth. His skin was not just pale but downright ivory, as if he had spent his entire life in the dark. His blue eyes gleamed emptily. His build did not stand out from the crowd; he was just as muscular as any soldier. In general, one might have called him average. However, as he stopped at the front of the bridge, straightened up, and neatly adjusted the top button of his immaculate dark blue uniform with a decisive gesture, he exuded an elegance that could take anyone’s breath away. Even the Rebel Leader couldn’t match the dignity he radiated.
He neglected to bow, seemingly unaware or indifferent to the frightened murmurs of the soldiers in the background.
The red-haired man silently watched him for a moment, then turned away and resumed gazing at space.
“Captain, tell me, how far are we?”
“Just one jump away, sir.”
The Leader nodded with satisfaction and continued his pacing.
The Captain sensed that his Leader had more to say, so he patiently waited. He knew that his superior enjoyed playing with the nerves of his subordinates.
He had noticed before that the Leader almost never seemed to get nervous. He was nearly always calm, at least that’s how the Captain saw it. Even when he was about to explode from anger inside, he didn’t go into a rage; at most, he raised his voice. He could administer punishments with the utmost composure. The Rebel Leader always believed that the death penalty was unnecessary for setting an example and considered it a waste of time A significant torture would engrave the desired message much deeper in the soldiers’ minds than killing them.
The Captain remembered all too well when, during the most recent punishment for a recruit’s mistake, his Leader had been present, and he had to be there too. He felt sick to his stomach, and he had to leave, while the Leader’s face remained firm.
After three minutes had passed, the Captain made the mistake of impatiently shifting from one foot to the other. The Leader was inspecting the cleanliness of one of the nearby soldiers’ armor, and the soldier didn’t know what to do in his fear.
“Nervous?”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
“Why?”
“Because you called me, but now that I am here, you say nothing. I don’t understand why I had to interrupt my tasks.”
The Leader finished inspecting the soldier and turned to the Captain. He smiled.
This expression was quite common on his face, yet it was impossible to determine its true meaning.
The Captain lowered his head for the first time. The Leader was waiting for this.
“You’re right, I’m just wasting time. I am nervous as well. I’d like you to double-check everything one last time. In ten minutes, we’ll execute the jump. Make sure everyone is aware of it. We don’t know what kind of resistance to expect. Be prepared!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.”
With that, the rebel Leader left the Captain on the bridge and headed for his cabin. It was the only place where he could be alone and didn’t have to meet any expectations. The room was well-lit and devoid of any clutter. Only the essentials were kept here, such as a bed, a desk with computers, monitors, and scattered documents. He took off his brown coat and tossed it onto his chair.
Even though he was in his own little cabin, he couldn’t escape the nervousness.
He knew what the soldiers would think if they saw him pacing back and forth like a caged animal. The always calm Lord Quilen was nervous, and something like this could only happen when doomsday was upon them.
All those who lived under his rule only knew him by his face and from the news. They knew he was a brilliant strategist, understood and loved his principles. Quickly, he became an example, even an idol in the eyes of some. Nevertheless, many rumors circulated about him, resulting in countless misconceptions. His own soldiers loved him, but they were also afraid of him because the rumors portrayed him as intelligent and determined, yet strict and merciless.
They believed he was always calm when, in reality, he was frequently placed in situations where he could have exploded. It took him a long time, but he learned to manage his anger. They believed he was always cruel, and his men feared him merely because he was the supreme leader. Even if he had never done anything, the situation would have been the same. He knew this for sure because that’s how it was in the very beginning when he had not yet given them a reason to fear him. After all these years, he would only punish when it was absolutely necessary and he wanted to set an example. He detested mistakes. He believed that in such cases, strict punishment was justified. Pressing the wrong key and causing a significant problem warranted a three-hour stint in the torture chamber Even such a small mistake could cause immeasurable harm if it happened at the wrong time, in the wrong place. He wanted them to learn their lesson, to be more attentive, and to take responsibility.
He hated killing more than anything else. He could count on one hand how many times he had personally taken a life. Even in combat, he prioritized winning with minimal violence, relying on logic over brute force. Once, when whispers of his weakness began to circulate among the soldiers, he did something he had never done before. He decimated his troops, but only once. This was more than enough to silence the rumors. He felt regret for the dead, but the ends justified the means.
They believed he was insane. Upon hearing this, he would dismissively ask what exactly it meant to be insane.
Some even claimed he could read thoughts. When he heard this, he laughed so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks. While wiping his eyes and chuckling, he asked the Captain to make sure he was informed if anyone in the Galaxy had learned how to perform magic because he would pay to be taught. He never entered anyone’s mind; he simply had a keen eye for falsehoods. He saw that when the soldiers lied, they never looked him in the eye, fiddled with their hands, or twitched their faces.
They also believed he had no emotions. This was the only thing that bothered him, but after careful consideration, he decided to let the rumors circulate because it ensured that his power remained unquestioned. He faced the pain caused by the whispers alone, and in the end, it gave him strength.
The Rebel Leader came to a halt and began to contemplate the multitude of monitors on the wall, but nothing of interest appeared on them. Absently, he began to fiddle with the small medallion hanging around his neck, filled with green dust.
His reverie was interrupted by a deep voice.
“Lord Quilen!”
He looked up at one of the monitors where the Captain’s pale face had appeared.
“Yes? Is there something of interest?”
“It’s time, my lord. We’re just waiting for your command.”
The Leader glanced at the digital clock that measured the shared time.
“I understand. Execute the jump.”
“Yes, my lord. One more thing. The Grand Admiral…”
“You know what to do.”
The Captain obediently nodded.
As the image disappeared, Quilen Vanner, the Rebel Leader, sat down at his consoles, leaned on the table, and placed one hand on the red sword resting on the table, causing it to ignite upon his touch.
In the corner, shining with a golden hue from the shadows, a pair of eyes watched him. Its whisper echoed in the man’s mind.
“Do you seriously think you’ll be able to do this?”
Quilen didn’t respond.
If his shining blue eyes could express any emotion, they would likely have reflected his nervousness.
***
Sephra raised her head when someone addressed her. The workers were pointing outside, and when she turned toward the window, she noticed why they were alarmed. Twenty starships were unfolding over Darella. The Grand Admiral recognized them immediately. While the Imperial spacecraft were metallic gray, the rebel vessels typically had a dull, bronzy gleam.
The soldiers were asking what to do. They all knew their situation was perilous because a single starship had no chance against twenty others.
Sephra didn’t want to make unnecessary sacrifices. They wouldn’t be able to jump out of there in time or unnoticed. They were at an obvious disadvantage, so she instructed the soldiers and the workers to abandon the ship and seek shelter on the planet below. Afterward, she sent a message to the other Imperial admirals, requesting assistance on behalf of the refugees, ensuring they would eventually find them on the planet’s surface.
She knew precisely why the rebels had come. It wasn’t a coincidence that they didn’t attack immediately, but she didn’t want to take any risks.
Everyone else had fled except her. They tried to convince her to go with them, but Sephra gave them the order to leave. She remained on the starship, waiting. She stood alone on the bridge and observed the rebels. They didn’t attack those who fled. They knew she was not among them. She saw that they had dispatched a few smaller spacecraft straight toward her.
The admiral knew they had come for her. She didn’t budge from her position, merely waiting. She also sent a message to Angron, then pressed a few buttons, and the starship’s hangar door opened.
Sephra willingly let the arriving rebels in. She turned with an odd smile as the rebel soldiers arrived. They were led by a tall man with a pale face.
The woman looked at him and raised her hands. She surrendered. Her purple eyes sparkled cheerfully, as if she found the situation amusing. However, she didn’t say a word when they took her into custody.
Stella Watson author/író 