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304 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 1, 1982
"Could you relay that to him for me?"
"No, that won't do" (ok good that is all you need to say)
At Kircheis's prompt refusal, Reinhard acknowledged what he was getting at and nodded.
"That's true. It will be meaningless unless I tell him myself." (ugh)
If Kircheis were to pass along word of Reinhard's intent to forgive, Wittenfeld--having been reprimanded by Reinhard--would likely continue to hold a grudge against him, while feeling gratitude towards Kircheis. Human psychology was like that (NO SHIT!?!) For that reason, Reinhard's indulgence would ultimately have had no meaning, which was why Kircheis had refused. (kill me)
"Kircheis?"
"Yes, Lord Reinhard?"
"... Do you believe I can seize this universe and make it my own?" (That was a line for the ages)
Siegfried Kircheis looked straight back into his dear friend's ice-blue eyes.
"To whom but Lord Reinhard could such a wish be granted?" (I feel like he is being sarcastic)
"Every once in a while, someone will tell me the kitchen is no place for a countess, but no matter what they say, I enjoy it so much I just can't help myself." (Said no countess ever)

"There’s nothing easier than advocating for peace with words.”
There is one thing, thought Yang. Hiding in a safe place and advocating for war.
STORY:
THE FREE PLANETS ALLIANCE:
When a foolish general got a million allies killed, a great general killed a million enemies. That was the only difference, and if viewed from the standpoint of absolute pacifism—the kind that said, “I will not kill, even if it means being killed myself”—there was no difference between the two. Both were mass murderers.
THE GALACTIC EMPIRE
“Look at them, Kircheis,” Reinhard would whisper. Whenever he saw such nobles, his voice filled with an intense hatred and scorn. “They didn’t get to be where they are today through any effort of their own … They inherited their authority and fortune from their fathers only by reason of blood, and they aren’t even ashamed of it. The universe does not exist to be dominated by such people.”
Kircheis relayed Reinhard’s order to the communications officer, who responded with a slight, quizzical tilt of the head. Kircheis returned a pleasant smile. “Like you, Officer … I’m in no hurry to fight such a tough opponent again. Better to have easy wins than run into enemies we have to praise.”
“The Galactic Empire—by which I mean the Goldenbaum Dynasty—must be destroyed. If it were possible, I would destroy it with my own hands. However, I lack the acumen, the power. What I can do is assist in the rise of a new conqueror, that’s all. I’m speaking of you, Your Excellency: Imperial Marshal Reinhard von Lohengramm.”
OVERALL:
A jowly middle-aged officer shouted at Yang, “Officer, why aren’t you standing?!” He was wearing commodore’s insignia, same as Yang.
Shifting his gaze, Yang quietly answered. “This is a free country. I ought to be free to not stand up when I don’t want to. I’m just exercising that freedom.”
“Well then, why don’t you want to stand up?”
“Exercising my freedom not to answer.”
“What’s the matter, Julian? You don’t like walking?”
Perhaps his voice was just a little sharp from his residual displeasure.
“No, it isn’t that.”
“Well then, why aren’t you coming?”
“That’s … the wrong direction.”
Yang turned on his heel without a word. As long as a space fleet commander doesn’t get the fleet’s heading wrong, there’s nothing to worry about. He considered saying that, or something similarly unsporting, then decided against it. Truth be told, his confidence even failed him on that point from time to time. That was why Yang prized the precision-tuned fleet management of Vice Commander Fischer so highly.