After a day immersed in mechsmithing courses, Baisha attended an evening elective, The Art of Fleet Command. The instructor, a retired general, dissected the campaigns of the Empire's finest commanders, weaving tales of strategic brilliance.
The Empire's conflicts—beyond purging star-beasts—largely pitted it against the Federation or interstellar pirates. Ground assaults were rare; aerial fleet battles dominated. The general, a seasoned tactician, crafted this course to demystify fleet command, imparting both its principles and its nuances.
"Fleet commanders are a breed apart," he said from the podium, his voice measured yet resonant. "You'll rarely gain real command experience in academy. Instead, we use the 'Fleet Simulation System' for mock battles." He paused, surveying the room. "Not everyone needs this course. For most, understanding attack patterns and basic orders suffices. By second year, you'll move on. Those aspiring to command can enroll in the Officer Training Center—not here on Tianshu Star, but alongside cadets from other academies. The trials there are grueling."
The Empire's standards for fleet commanders were exacting, with rigorous selection and training. Their numbers were few, their quality paramount. As the general put it, fleet command was an art, lofty and rare, demanding not just talent but resilience. Cadets faced relentless trials to hone their instincts and intellect, a crucible few endured.
Baisha sat among the students, her fingers tapping idly on the desk. She already commanded the Po Jun Fleet; she didn't need to learn the role herself. But she did need to cultivate loyal commanders, lest her fleet—her strongest asset—languish for want of leadership.
From handling everything herself to delegating tasks, Baisha's shift was born of necessity. Dual-majoring consumed her time, awakening her "royal instinct" to gather vassals, binding their ambitions to her own. In the Empire, this was a sovereign's birthright.
That evening, she broached the topic with Sino Uss.
Sino pondered briefly. "What of Po Jun's current commanders?"
"They're devoted to my uncle, their eyes fixed on 'the Emperor's will,'" Baisha said, a scoff in her voice. "I later learned he handpicked them from the front lines or battlefields. Their camaraderie runs deep, unshakable."
If Baisha ascended the throne, their loyalty was assured. But if she didn't? She needed allies wholly her own, molded from raw potential as her uncle had done. Lacking battlefield opportunities, she could still play the patron, sowing seeds of gratitude.
Sino grinned. Baisha's belated ambition to build her faction was a call he'd eagerly answer. "If you're open to it, I can recommend Uss clan members." He pitched his cousins with zeal—the Uss family had bet heavily on Baisha, and sparing a few hands was no burden. "Two of my peers are training at the Officer Training Center. I could also have them scout promising talents for recruitment before they graduate."
"Excellent," Baisha said, nodding. "If you spot commander material, send them my way."
Plucking gems from elite academies was the shrewdest path.
Their talk drifted, and Baisha raised a brow. "Where's Yuehuai? Not with you?"
Sino's face twitched with unease. "She's in the infirmary."
Baisha blinked. "What?"
"During combat class, she clashed with a Class B student," Sino explained, sighing. "Things escalated, and both unleashed their mental constructs…"
"Is she hurt?" Baisha asked, concern flaring.
"A draw, technically," Sino said. "She was outmatched but tapped deep into her mental energy to overpower her opponent. Her peregrine construct was formidable but went rogue, backlashing against her."
He rubbed his brow. "Thankfully, Professor Tisiya intervened. Yuehuai's fine—just needs a stint in the recovery pod."
Tisiya's albatross construct, usually docile, had subdued the peregrine with startling ferocity—a testament to her expertise in mental construct combat.
Baisha fell silent. Cen's rocky start at the academy was proving eventful.
Though Sino downplayed the injury, Baisha visited the infirmary that night. Cen, out of the pod, lounged on a monitoring bed, listening to soothing music—Imperial experts swore it calmed mental constructs. Her lips were pale, but she perked up at Baisha's arrival, tugging off her earbuds. "Your Highness."
Baisha set down a bag of Cen's favorite late-night snacks from the cafeteria. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Cen said, her nose twitching at the food's aroma, though she restrained herself. "Smells amazing, but I'd hurl if I ate now."
The aftereffects of her mental surge lingered.
"The academy's assigning me to Professor Tisiya to learn construct control," Cen said, sighing. "Good news is, they expected this and aren't kicking me out."
"Don't tell my sister," she added, pleading. "She'll freak."
Baisha nodded. "Your call. But why'd you fight Class B?"
"They provoked me," Cen huffed. "Called me an overrated 3S-rank. His construct was a boa constrictor—shady vibes. So we threw down." She smirked. "He got his wish. I'm here recovering, but my peregrine nearly tore his construct apart. He's worse off. My bird's clever—can't control it, but it knows to strike a snake's weak point." Her excitement triggered a coughing fit.
Baisha watched, bemused.
"Here's a thought," she said. "If you can't fully control your construct, treat it like a wild beast to tame. Don't aim for total mastery like most Imperials. Forge a partnership, like a falconer and their hawk. What do you think?"
Cen paused, then nodded. "That… could work."
"As for you, pace yourself," Baisha advised. "Until you mitigate the surge's side effects, avoid pushing your mental energy to the brink."
Cen sighed. "That's tough…"
"Focus on refining your skills," Baisha said patiently. "The academy's no life-or-death arena. Grow strong enough to win without risking a surge."
"Sorry," Cen said, sitting up, her voice small. "I got reckless."
Baisha sat beside her, patting her warm back, privately marveling at her own construct's docility. Her Little White Chirp, a fluffy orb of flight, never caused trouble. She wouldn't trade it for ten blackbirds.
Once Cen stabilized, they returned to the dorms, parting for their rooms and collapsing into sleep.
In the dead of night, moonlight bathed Baisha's sleeping form. She stirred, rolling over, unaware of the faint ripples of mental energy behind her. Little White Chirp emerged, its bean-like eyes bright with purpose.
Silently, it perched on her pillow, tilting its head to watch her steady breaths. Then, with a flap, it darted toward a half-open window. The silver-throated long-tailed tit soared, its feathers edged with silvery light, cutting a direct path to its goal: a towering white spire.
The chirp deftly evaded the building's surveillance, gliding to a sixth-floor window. A pale blue energy shield cloaked the tower, a theft deterrent, but the chirp passed through unhindered, slipping inside.
The room was a sterile sanctum of silver-gray metal walls. A holodevice station sat in one corner, flanked by two experiment tables and a rack. A tall wooden bookshelf by the door held meticulously arranged folders and glowing metal cases.
The chirp landed on the shelf, eyeing the cases curiously but ignoring them. It hopped to an experiment table, nudging a switch. With a hiss, the table split, revealing a rising apparatus—a black device of interlocking metal rings orbiting a radiant blue crystal, its light a shimmering ocean.
The chirp's eyes gleamed, hopping excitedly. It swooped, pecking at the crystal—
A sharp click. The lab blazed with light. Golden laser beams shot from the table, forming a cage around the device and the chirp. The bird, startled, seized the crystal in its beak, but the device stalled without it. Flapping frantically, the chirp was pinned by the cage's sudden suction.
A man in a lab coat entered, his expression calm but piercing. His glance at the chirp sent a chill through it. "Caught you, thief," he said, his deep blue eyes like a frozen river, fixed on the crystal. "Do you know what you're holding?"
"Chirp?" The bird tilted its head.
"A purified energy core," he said slowly. "I crafted only two. You stole one before, and now I've caught you red-handed. Do you know the Empire's penalty for stealing such research?"
The chirp's black eyes blinked, uncomprehending.
The man frowned. A mental construct stealing was rare, but not unheard of. His threat should've sparked guilt. Instead, the chirp tossed the crystal upward—and swallowed it whole.
The man stared, incredulous.
"Chirp chirp chirp." The plump bird, smugly content, curled into a fluffy ball within the laser cage.
A faint, cold laugh escaped the man. Even his stoic heart flickered with amusement—and irritation. Eating the evidence? Did this thief grasp the core's immense power? Wasn't it afraid of bursting?
He watched, expecting energy backlash. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. The absurdly round bird sat placidly, visibly unscathed.
His brow furrowed.
Morning broke, and Baisha woke, yawning as she rose. Something felt off. She sensed it keenly—her mental construct was missing.
Like a wraith, she shuffled to the bathroom, dressed, and headed downstairs, where Cen, munching a bread roll, greeted her. "Morning, Your Highness. You seem… off."
Baisha paused, probing inwardly. "My construct's gone."
"Oh, gone—wait, gone?" Cen's face twisted in disbelief. "Constructs can get lost?"
"They're supposed to follow our will," Baisha said, rubbing her forehead. "But I was asleep. My construct's… different. It's obedient, but sometimes, it feels like it has its own mind."
"Constructs are part of us," Cen said, dazed. "Why do ours keep going rogue?"
Two anomalies stared at each other.
"Mine awakened later than most," Baisha mused. "I don't always control it, letting it roam. But straying this far, staying out all night? That's new."
"Can you sense where it is?" Cen asked.
Baisha shook her head. "It's close, likely on campus."
"Maybe it's playing with other constructs?" Cen suggested. "Ask Sino?"
"If it went to him, he'd have messaged me," Baisha said.
Her holodevice pinged—a summons from the Dean's Office. A chill of foreboding hit her.
Her fears materialized when she saw Little White Chirp, trapped in a golden laser cage resembling a birdcage. The bird, listless at first, erupted into excited "chirp chirp chirps" upon spotting her, its cries laced with accusation.
"What happened?" Baisha asked, bewildered.
"Cadet Baisha," the dean said, gesturing her to sit, his tone grave. "What were you doing last night?"
"Sleeping, obviously," she replied.
"Then why was your construct in the White Tower?" he asked, exasperated.
The White Tower, the mechsmithing institute's research hub, housed special-grade professors' labs. Baisha, new to the academy, hadn't even set foot there.
"Just tell me what happened," she said.
"Your construct broke into the White Tower and ate research materials," the dean said. "Two 99% pure energy cores—priceless, painstakingly refined."
Baisha's eye twitched. "It ate what? Two cores? Are you sure I'm awake?"
A single core could power her mech, Thunderflow, at high intensity for half a year. And sparrows didn't eat stones.
"I couldn't believe it either," the dean said, grimacing. "But there's video evidence."
He played the footage. Baisha watched, stunned, as her chirp gulped down the glowing core, then shot it a disbelieving look.
"Can you open the cage?" she asked, worried. "Is it safe after eating that?"
The dean sighed. "I don't have the key—only Professor Jiang Gui does. Your bird's fine, eating and sleeping. I had a construct expert check—it's unharmed."
If the chirp were in distress, Baisha would've felt it. "Jiang Gui, the special-grade mechsmith?" Her voice rose. "The cores were his?"
"Correct," the dean said, resigned. "His demand is simple: sign this compensation agreement, and he'll release your construct."
The agreement listed a staggering sum, enough to buy half a mech. Baisha glared at the chirp, which had wrought havoc in silence.
Swallowing two of Jiang Gui's cores had delayed his project. His demand was astronomical, and he hadn't even shown his face, sending only the contract—a clear sign of fury. Without satisfactory compensation, he'd keep her construct indefinitely.
"Fine, I'll sign," Baisha said, pen in hand.
"Wait!" the dean interjected, flustered. "Jiang Gui offered another option—assist him in his experiments, and the debt's erased."