The Designate had had a vision of independence. He led his hapless planet into a civil war against the Mage-Imperator, trying to break away from the Ildiran Empire, to begin his own story. The rogue Designate convinced his people that he was still receiving guidance from the thism, and they—knowing nothing else—had followed him. Yet his vision of independence brought only bloodshed and death. In the end, the insane son of the Mage-Imperator had been murdered, his misled people brought back into the fold of untainted thism. The appalling civil war had left deep psychological scars in the Ildiran psyche. For centuries, rememberers had sung ballads of the tragic event.

Feeling an oppressive sense of gloom after rereading the sad legend, Kori’nh put the Saga documents away. Then he opened his storage drawers and withdrew the weighty selection of medals and ribbons he had earned in his career. He took up cloths and creams and began to polish the metal and the jewels.

Disappointingly, he’d received most of the glittering awards for traditional service: presiding over spectacular test performances and military parades, successfully effecting rescue missions such as the one on Crenna, or using his soldiers to complete difficult civil-engineering feats.

The Ildirans had never met a great enemy for epic conflicts. Although the humans were troubling, they were obviously too disorganized to pose a real threat. The Klikiss had vanished eons ago, and the other life forms encountered in the Spiral Arm were still far too primitive to become spacefarers.

He wished he could one day seize significant glory for himself. Before he died, he wanted to achieve something vital and glorious that would warrant his inclusion in the epic history of his people. Adar Kori’nh had spent his entire career waiting for a worthy opponent.

For now, though, his only duty was to demonstrate the Solar Navy’s prowess in order to amuse the Hyrillka Designate.

With Adar Kori’nh watching proudly beside him, the chubby Hyrillka Designate rose to his feet and applauded. In another comfortable seat in the permanent viewing stands, Thor’h, firstborn noble son of the Prime Designate, also seemed to be enjoying himself. Though Thor’h was not much younger than his brother Qul Zan’nh, the noble son seemed much less mature, pampered and untested. The young man had more than a century yet before he could expect the responsibility of the chrysalis throne in the Prism Palace, and he took blithe advantage of his freedom.

In the sky, brilliant nearby stars shone like colorful jewels sprinkled across the vault of heaven, bright enough to be seen during daylight. At night, the glory of the Horizon Cluster filled the Hyrillka darkness like fireworks, showering even the deepest evening with enough light to comfort a shadow-fearing Ildiran.