On the official road to Trullinczentyr, a convoy of four black carriages traveled smoothly.
On the door of the lead carriage was a carved crest formed by a crossed sickle and axe—representing the status of the Elector of the Wasser Fief Grand Region.
As the convoy passed, pedestrians on both sides of the street turned to look.
People whispered and murmured amongst themselves.
"Look, that's the emblem of the Workers' Party!" a young student said in a low voice to his companion.
"I heard he drove the Elector of Wasser Fief to his death... A man from the mud actually became an Elector?!"
"Didn't the papers say he liberated the miners and gave them food?"
"He really dares to come to Trullinczentyr? I thought he'd hide in Wasser Fief and be a local tyrant," a merchant-like middle-aged man sneered.
"Shh, quiet down!"
"He's an Elector now, personally ennobled by Her Majesty the Empresses!" the person next to him reminded.
Just then, a boy of about seven or eight, clutching a newspaper, dashed out from an alley.
The newspaper's front page bore the headline in an exaggerated font: "The People's Hero—Elector Lacey!", accompanied by a picture of a figure with a raised arm.
"It's Lord Lacey! It's Lord Lacey!" The boy's eyes were shining brightly as he shouted and ran after Lacey's carriage.
"Get lost, you little mutt!" A patrolling City Guard rushed over, brandishing his baton.
"If you obstruct the nobleman's carriage, I'll break your legs!"
He shoved the boy, who fell to the ground, caught off guard. The newspaper in his hand flew out, landing in the muddy water.
The boy was stunned, then burst into tears.
Still not satisfied, the City Guard raised his foot to stomp on the newspaper, cursing, "If you dare shout here again, I'll throw all of you in prison!"
At the head of the convoy, Taylor's eyes went cold. Without a word, he gave a hand signal.
Two Picket Team members behind him immediately dismounted. The surrounding crowd saw only a blur, and the swaggering City Guard was already held by the arms on either side.
"What… what are you doing?!" the City Guard struggled in terror. "I'm part of the City Guard! How dare you…"
One of the Picket Team members, expressionless, applied a little pressure. The City Guard immediately let out a pig-like squeal as his entire arm twisted at a bizarre angle.
The other member delivered a clean knee strike to his abdomen.
The City Guard collapsed to the ground, retching in pain.
Taylor dismounted, walked over to the crying boy, and knelt down, gently patting the boy's head with his large, rough hand.
He picked up the muddy newspaper, carefully smoothed it out, folded it, and placed it back in the boy's hand.
"Don't be afraid."
"No one will dare treat you like this again."
He stood up, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, now silent with fear. He glanced at the moaning City Guard on the ground before leaving them with one cold sentence:
"We take care of our own people. You'd be wise to discipline yours."
With that, he mounted his horse, and the convoy moved on as if nothing had happened.
A suppressed wave of discussion immediately erupted from the crowd.
"Gods, they actually dared to make a move…"
"That City Guard is always throwing his weight around. He really picked the wrong people this time!"
"Look at how they protected that child. They're completely different from these pompous soldiers."
Inside the carriage, Gertrude watched it all through a gap in the curtains, her expression complex.
"Mister Lacey, Taylor… was too impulsive. This is Trullinczentyr, not Wischeim."
"No," Lacey's voice was calm and steady. "This is precisely what I want them to see."
"A sheep, even draped in a lion's skin, is still a sheep."
"But a pack of wolves need only reveal a single fang to strike fear into their prey."
He paused, then added, "This was likely the work of one of the Electors. Don't worry, Gertrude."
Gertrude nodded.
...
...
The Grand Hall of the Imperial Central Conference.
On a high dais to the north stood two thrones side by side, one pure white, one jet black, symbolizing the supreme dual authority of Leithanien.
Below the thrones, nine chairs carved with their respective family crests were arranged in an arc.
At this moment, eight of them were already occupied.
These were the pillars of Leithanien's power, the Electors of the Empire.
There was the Elector from the Heidenshweir Grand Region, a former military man, built like a bear with a rugged face.
There was Meklen Neum, the Elector from the Caplania Grand Region, from a family of merchants, dressed in lavish clothes with rings on all ten fingers, smiling like a fox.
There were also several old nobles with grim faces and hostile eyes, their territories bordering the former Wasser Fief, who had countless ties to the Gladstone family.
The new Elector of Schtong, Wolner von Hochberg, was also among them. His young face showed curiosity and scrutiny as he quietly observed the scene.
When Lacey walked into the hall alone, all eyes instantly focused on him.
He wore no elaborate adornments befitting an Elector, only a well-tailored green formal suit with the Workers' Party emblem pinned to his chest, looking utterly out of place in the grand hall.
His guards, including Taylor and Hoederer, had been stopped at the door.
Lacey's pace was unhurried as he walked toward the empty seat belonging to the Elector of Wasser Fief.
The Gladstone family crest was still on that chair.
"Silence!"
Following the respectful announcement from a Voice of the Empress, two figures emerged from behind the curtain of the dais.
"Eternal Grace," Lizelotte Iwegnade, in a white dress, a compassionate smile on her face.
"Ruthless Authority," Herlinmarte Hildegard, in black armor, her gaze sharp and naturally imposing.
Upon seeing them, all the Electors rose and placed a hand over their chest in a gesture of respect.
Lacey also gave a slight bow.
The Twin Empresses took their seats on the thrones. Lizelotte's gentle gaze swept across the hall, finally resting on Lacey.
"Please be seated," Lizelotte said softly.
Everyone sat, and the conference began.
An elderly Elector immediately addressed the throne in a loud voice: "Your Majesty! I wish to impeach Lacey of Wasser Fief!"
"This man is of low birth, he uses incitement of mobs as a tool to openly attack the territory of an Imperial Elector, and he drove Otto Gladstone to his death!"
"Such an act is no different from treason! If he is not severely punished, where is the law of the Empire? Where is the honor of the nobility?"
As soon as he finished, several other Electors chimed in.
"I second that! Otto Gladstone defended the border for the Empire. Even if he was at fault, it should have been for Your Majesty to judge! Since when was it an upstart's place to carry out a so-called trial?"
"This is a trampling of the Empire's thousand-year legal tradition! Today he can incite the rabble of Wasser Fief, tomorrow he can incite those in our lands! This trend must not be allowed to continue!"
Several Electors launched successive attacks, their words fierce, spittle flying.
They painted Lacey as an ambitious rebel, attempting to politically crucify him.
________________________________________
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