Where is he?

The late afternoon sun, filtered through the panoramic window of Xiang Yu's private lounge. He sat in a low, plush armchair, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. 

His expression was unconcerned. Almost bored. A crystal glass, half-filled with a shimmering, amber liquid, rested lightly in his hand, catching the light and scattering it in tiny prisms across the polished floor.

In front of him, a holographic screen, seemingly suspended in mid-air, flickered with breaking news. The images were stark: explosions blooming across the ochre surface of a mining planet, Republic cruisers engulfed in flames, and frantic evacuation efforts. The headline screamed in bold, crimson characters: FEDERATION ATTACKS! WAR DECLARED!