Safehold

"I have to go or the Royal Council shall dispatch a search party for me... and even Edwyrd won't be able to stop them..." Sharleyan sighed, blowing one last kiss to her husband over the comm link.
Emperor Cayled pouted back at her from thousand miles away: "Fine, go... show them who truly rules the Empire."
"I'm glad you're aware of that," she grinned at him. "I'll talk to you again at noon."
"I love you," he said and the comm link went dead.
Almost immediately after that he realized he doesn't know if she meant his noon or hers.

Hektor sat on his bunk in HMS Destiny, listening to the heavy breathing of his mates. He couldn't help but think about his fiancée, Princess Irys, sleeping just a few cabins away. He was on duty whole afternoon, and when he finally got off, she's already retired into her cabin under the sharp eyes of Lady Mairah Breygart, her chaperone.
It didn't take long for him to decide to sneak into Irys's cabin for a goodnight kiss. The whole ship was creaking and heaving against the waves. But even those sounds couldn't hide the treacherous screech of Irys's cabin door...

After Clyntahn's 'Rakurai' succeeded and she sat at the deathbed of her husband, Prince Nahrmahn, Princess Ohlyvya felt as if someone ripped her heart out. But in this case, love got the chance to conquer death.
When Merlin 'resurected' Nahrman's personality in the virtual reality, she felt blessed beyond belief. She was again able to hold conversations with him, ask his opinion, see him.
And then the impossible happened. With the VR suit she could submerge herself into Nahrmahn's new reality and actually feel him again. Death couldn't reach into the depth of the electronic world.
Nahrmahn and Ohlyvya kissed.

The shells and roundshot were drumming down at the walls of the redoubts. At first the impacts were heard just as soft thuds through the thick walls of dirt and wood. One of the shots found a gunport and slammed into gun no. 3, making it kick back, wounding almost everyone in its crew. But that was only one 'lucky' shot.
And then the Charisian batteries opened a returning fire. The kicks of their shots against the enemy entrenchments were far worse. The casualties in the enemy's artillery were almost total before the commander finaly gave the order to retreat.

The winters in Siddamark - especially in the mountains - were never easy.
Even in years when harvest was plentiful, getting enough food for winter to Glacierheart and other highland provinces was a challenging task under the best of conditions.
But this winter was different. The 'Sword of Schueler' drowned the crops in blood and fire. Most of the Republic was starving. Even so, those remaining loyal to the Protector were still fighting, holding against the oncoming tide of the Army of God.
When the Charisian help came, the hope brought by it glowed warmer than the first rays of spring sun.

It was a public secret - at least among the vicarate - that Zhaspahr Clyntahn liked to indulge himself, be it by food or by services of women of a specific profession. While the rumors, about the panoramatic windows of his suite overlooking whole Zion playing a great role in the latter of his indulgences, were persistant, they were never more than whispered speculations. After all, the windows of the Temple were miraculous - impossible to see through from the outside. And there were, after all, areas of the cruelest and most dangerous Vicar's life, that nobody wanted to know too much about.

Sharleyan Ahrmahk rose from her window seat and crossed the room to the cradle where her daughter, Alanah Zhanyat Naimu just started crying. A tall man beat her to the crib and lifted the baby out.
“Thank you, Mer-Ahbraim. But I don’t think it will do much good,” the Empress watched the PICA of Nimue Alban cradle her tiny namesake, offering her a finger to suck on.
“See, all better, I’m good with ow-“ Ahbraim lifted the finger to his eyes, examining it.
“This would be nasty, if I weren’t a PICA. You should have told me she’s begun teething.”

Wywern sighted smoke shortly before noon.
The scout ship was on a patrol, not to engage anyone, just to gather intel and carry it ashore.
Thinking it was merchant ship in trouble, she went to investigate.
Seeing what it really was, she tried to run back to the shore.
Beating upwind, Wywern was slow. The smoke-spewing thing didn’t mind the wind.
Wywern’s crew started praying as it closed in, seeing its sides bristling with run-out cannons.
HMS Delthak passed, attacking the small craft with nothing but a stench of smoke and shrill sound of steam whistle carried by the wind.

This planet was to be the new, better Earth. But it needed to be wrangled under control, made habitable for human beings... in one word: terraformed. The fauna and flora were much more aggressive than anything on the old Terra was. The humans and other big predatory mammals ruled over the Earth - but here, even after all the work put into Safehold by Pei Shan-wei and her crews, one thing was clear: On this world, the rulers of the Earth will always play second fiddle. On this world the pinnacle of evolution had six legs and was very distinctly reptilian.

Corporal Rahnyld Zhermyn, Army of God, dropped down into the underbush, taking cover. It was raining. His rifle was useless - the priming soaked.
He let his thoughts wander for a moment. They flew right back to his office, inside the Temple. Being the aide of Vicar Rhobair - the Church's Treasurer - had its perks. But he couldn't stay back, no. He had to enlist, looking for something more thrilling, than 'counting beans' and keeping tithe records.
Bullets from the Shan-wei spawned Charisian rifles drummed into a bark, disturbingly close.
The Holy War was proving too exciting not only for Zhermyn's tastes...