Several hundred more years had passed since the last barbecue gathering. Everything had been almost absurdly uneventful, with nothing memorable happening.
The Viltrumite Empire's population had surpassed ten million. It was flourishing, a cause for celebration.
Sparta sat just inside the gates of the Marshal's residence like an old man at the village entrance, enjoying the breeze on his face and the warmth of the sun.
He had become a hands-off leader, too. Craig handled most affairs, only bringing matters to him when he was unsure how to proceed.
Footsteps sounded beside him as Craig approached with a datapad and sat down next to him.
"Marshal, these are this year's latest figures," Craig said.
Sparta did not turn his head, gazing at the distant horizon through narrowed eyes.
"How much has it increased since last month?"
Craig worked the datapad, comparing the figures against last month's. "About twenty thousand."
"Mm."
After a moment of silence, Craig rested the datapad on his knees.
"Are you really not going to draw up any new plans? Days this peaceful actually make me uneasy."
"There's also the fact that they've never fought for their lives. They're far weaker than they were in Algor's time."
Sparta's eyelashes fluttered slightly in the sunlight as he asked in return:
"What's wrong with that? They're a new generation of Viltrumites. This isn't our old era of endless fighting and killing anymore."
"Besides... what more could we change? Keep carrying out conquest missions to prepare for unifying the universe someday?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I don't have that much energy to spend on it. Thragg has given up on the idea, too, and he's living far more comfortably than I am."
"Algor's will is already a thing of the past. Apart from a few dozen, perhaps a hundred old-timers, who