Zamir sat stiffly on the giant throne. His feet still didn't touch the floor.
He had moved once—just once—trying to find a comfortable position, and in doing so, accidentally triggered some kind of chair mechanism that made the armrest glow and a haunting chime echo through the hall. Now, he was afraid to even blink too hard, in case the throne launched a nuke or something.
Across the polished marble floor stood the four people who terrified him the most in this entire reality: his loyal, extremely competent, and extremely intense high command.
To his left, Virelth Noxis, the Secretary of State, held a glowing glass tablet. Tall, elegant, terrifying. She looked like someone who could negotiate a planet's surrender with one sentence.
To his right stood Vel'Zharon the Radiant, commander of the empire's elite army—the Praetoria. He looked like someone who hadn't blinked in a decade and considered blinking a form of weakness.
Next was Phex Talonmark, the Minister of Coins. Shorter than the others but sharper, with a hawk-like gaze and the confidence of someone who once out-negotiated an entire star system into giving away its resources for free.
And finally, Althus Krowe, Butler and Head of Castle Keeping. Impossibly refined, posture perfect, the kind of guy who could prepare tea while assassinating a room full of nobles.
Zamir swallowed."Right, uh… report. What's… the situation?"
Virelth stepped forward and bowed gracefully. "As your silence dictated, I have prepared a full geopolitical briefing of the empire and our current standing."
Zamir blinked.
Wait, what? My silence dictated it?!
A holographic galactic map shimmered to life. Colored sectors, fleet routes, trade lanes, and various blinking warnings lit up across dozens of star systems. Zamir tried to follow, but gave up halfway through a sentence that included "psionic flux recalibration corridors."
"Our empire currently holds a single full sector: the Royal Sector," Virelth said. "Five solar systems, centered around Terra, remain under direct control. We maintain vassalage over the Carnila, Caraptis, and Volkari territories, though they grow increasingly unstable."
Zamir nodded like he understood.
"We remain unrecognized by the Galactic Senate," she continued, "due to... 'ideological incompatibility.'"
Zamir raised a brow. "Is that code for 'they hate us'?"
Phex chuckled lightly. "Essentially, my liege. Most of the galaxy views our policies as… extreme. Unyielding. Xenophobic."
Gee, I wonder why, Zamir thought. Maybe because we enslaved people, blew up moon bases.
Virelth didn't flinch. "The Senate has barred us from formal participation. However, we maintain several shadow agreements and 'informal understandings' with sympathetic sectors."
Zamir leaned back in the throne, staring at the holograms.He had built this empire… not thinking anyone would actually live in it.
"Have we ever… considered joining the Senate?" he asked, slowly.
The entire room went still.
Vel'Zharon's glowing eyes narrowed.
Phex tilted his head.
Virelth blinked once.
Althus said nothing, but subtly tightened his grip behind his back.
"My liege," Virelth said carefully, "the Solarii doctrine is built upon our divine separation. To kneel beside lesser species… it would be seen as blasphemy."
Zamir's stomach turned.
Of course it would. I made it that way... Do I have middle school syndrome?
"Perhaps," Zamir said slowly, "we should consider a… strategic reevaluation. You know. Long-term image management."
The council exchanged glances. It was like watching predators sniff something unfamiliar.
"An illusion of tolerance," Phex said slowly. "A false olive branch. A move to weaken enemy perception."
"Yes! That!" Zamir said quickly. "Exactly what I meant."
Totally not because I actually think this empire is horrifying and needs serious therapy.
Vel'Zharon stepped forward, armor clinking.
"The Praetoria stands ready to enact the Great Reclamation. Should we proceed with the reconquest of the southern fringe? You left the last campaign… unfinished."
Zamir's eyes widened.
Oh god, I remember that save. That's the one where I wiped out an entire planet because they insulted the color of my flag …
"Let's, uh… pause that for now," he said. "Maybe diplomacy first. Talk. Maybe they forgot about the whole… flag thing."
The room paused. Then, slowly, nods rippled across the group.
"A feint," Vel'Zharon muttered. "Wise."
Phex nodded, typing on his tablet. "We can spin it as a demonstration of superior restraint."
Althus gave a polite nod. "Very uncharacteristic of us, which will only make it more terrifying."
Zamir gave a thumbs up and hoped nobody noticed he was sweating.
A soft chime echoed through the chamber. A screen flickered on behind the throne.
"Oh no," Zamir whispered.
There he was. Standing on a crate, wings puffed dramatically, beak shining under the spotlight.
Tim.
"PEOPLE OF THE EMPIRE!" Tim shouted, arms raised to a crowd of millions. "REJOICE! The Sovereign has spoken!"
Zamir slumped.
"No, I didn't…"
Tim dramatically unrolled a scroll.
"In his boundless mercy, the Starborn Sovereign has chosen not to annihilate anyone today!"
Applause erupted.
"He calls this new divine strategy… The Great Pause! A time of glorious patience! A moment of terrifying silence!"
The screen panned to show massive banners with Zamir's face and the words:
THE GREAT PAUSE"Mercy before fire." – Emperor Zamir
Zamir stared in horror. "I NEVER SAID THAT!"
Tim kept going. "Furthermore, in his generosity, His Radiance suggests we offer tribute to our vassals… gifts of peace, to lull them into a false sense of comfort before… whatever comes next!"
Zamir threw a cushion at the screen. "STOP SAYING THESE THINGS!"
The council stood silently behind him, watching the broadcast with reverence.
"My liege," Virelth said softly, "your wisdom… it's beyond comprehension."
Zamir sighed and leaned forward, muttering under his breath.
"I swear, I still don't understand any of this…"