All was going according to plan, with all glory to the Empress.
Pirate Isle was sacked, its survivors had been eliminated, and the Blue Rogues would surely not be missed. The famed Air Pirate captain Dyne was dead, along with his entire upstart crew, and by all accounts his son had been slain in the fray, too. The opposition was dwindling with barely a hitch, by all reports, and although the Silvite's death complicated things, no one seemed too worried by the inconvenience.
All was going according to plan. So why was he in such a foul humor?
First Admiral Alfonso paced about his lavish private quarters within the Imperial Palace, mulling over all the recent happenings but quite without the apparent glee of his fellow admirals. Even now Belleza was moving on Nasr in a search for the Temple of Pyrynn, and soon De Loco would be assembling his fleet and re-locating to Ixa'taka to the west. As outrageous as it sounded the rumors of a raid on Nasrad were not so far-fetched as the general populace believed; Grand Admiral Galcian had hinted to the Empress more than once that it was nearly time to consider an open display of Valua's growing power. Nasrad, ever a thorn in the Imperial City's side, would do quite nicely as an example.
To Alfonso, though, it was all becoming quite daft.
He believed wholeheartedly in the Empress, and had never once believed that any one of her choices had been less than sound. He was the perfect subordinate to her, the perfect loyalist to the empire, the perfect noble son of the most high-esteemed noble family of Upper City. He conducted his life with determination and discipline, and led the first fleet of the armada with dedication and skill.
That was all fine and good, but the fact remained that he absolutely hated Grand Admiral Galcian. Ever since the man had replaced the late Mendosa he had set his sights upon global domination, something that Alfonso not only did not want, but considered disasterous. Certainly Valua should be ruled by a dictator, but the entire world? The system would never work. Revolt was implied in the end result.
Now Alfonso stalked about, tense and brooding, weighing his thoughts and feelings. He could not betray the Empress; he was loyal, and she was the law. But he would not follow Galcian into oblivion, and Yeligar damn him and his aspirations to rule Arcadia! Alfonso sensed something deeper, more sinister, to Galcian's designs; he did not doubt that the Grand Admiral would betray even the Empress to achieve his ends.
And that he simply could not allow.
But the decision was far too difficult to make in such an early stage of Arcadia's siege, and although his intentions were warped yet pure, Alfonso was too cowardly to follow through. Galcian wielded power, and he would not hesitate to use it against an uppity first admiral.
The fear remained in Alfonso's heart. He resolved to do nothing, but that did not set him at ease.