“Agreed.” Villieneuve knew what they were truly discussing. Both of them were concerned about the Confederation’s defenses, about how quickly their forces could win the victory. They would have the numbers in the initial assault, but though neither would admit it, they both knew the Confeds could outlast them. If the war turned into a grinding stalemate, the advantage would shift to the Confederation. The enemy was morally weak, their democracy mired down in intolerable chaos…but their economic strength was undeniable. The Union had to win the war in the first two years. If they didn’t…

But there was nothing to be done. Villieneuve knew that his friend agreed with him, that they both felt the Union should wait, continue its build up. The Confederation was a republic, weak, subject to the whims of its undisciplined people. Given time their vigilance would fail. It was a strong argument, but one they dared not make. The rest of the Presidium had been overwhelmingly in favor of attacking now, and neither man was prepared to take the risk of disagreeing with their comrades. The power struggle that had ended the Third Confederation War was still fresh in everyone’s minds. The Union had almost torn itself apart, and the amount of blood spilled—among its highest level politicians as much as its military forces—had been enormous. No one wanted to risk a return to that kind of infighting, and the prevailing attitude made it even more dangerous to oppose the majority view.

The two men sat, silent for a few moments. Villieneuve suspected Lille’s thoughts were similar to his own, but he knew his friend would be no less disciplined than he. Paranoia was an essential trait for a Union politician, at least one who wanted to survive for the long term. Finally, he simply said, “Although I would not want to make a specific prediction, I am optimistic the Alliance will take some action…and virtually anything they do is likely to be helpful.”

Lille nodded. “Let us hope so.” A pause. “So tell me about Palatia, and about the Palatians. Are they as strange as rumors suggest?”

“Indeed they are, Ricard. I have never seen anything like it.”

“I have heard their culture is austere.”

“Austere? I wouldn’t be surprised if they beat themselves with leather straps each morning. Their Patricians do live in considerable luxury…in a way. But I’d swear they manage to not enjoy any of it. However, their focus on military endeavors makes them perfect for our needs. They’re small, with ambitions that exceed their capabilities. They can hit the Confederation hard if they choose to, but they’re not fools. They’ll move slowly at first, probe the border.”