Chapter 314 King
Cassius II laughed to himself for a moment, then grew bored again. Wiping away tears of laughter, he slumped back down on his throne and asked sullenly, "Tell me, what do you want this time? Money? Land? Or perhaps a tax adjustment?"
The black-haired young man, insulted to his face, remained standing. His expression rarely showed any emotion, and his shadow trailed behind him, looking like a silent yet unusually tall gray spirit, with countless silent figures lurking behind him.
"I'm Nova," he said word by word. "My nickname is 'Ghost.' I'm a professor of theology at White Tower University, editor-in-chief of the 'People's Daily,' and compiler of the 'History of God.' I'm also the leader of the People's Party, president of the Okensele Society, and president of the Third Council. Now, I only represent the common people, representing approximately 97% of the population of the Silver Iris Empire. I stand before you, using the sacred authority granted to us by imperial law, and await your 'granting' of the right to express our opinions equally."
The ghost ignored the king's face, which was hollowed out by alcohol and sex. Although his voice was not loud, it echoed clearly under the tall and wide dome of the Kite Heart Palace.
"As the true leaders of this nation, we hold the army accountable for its humiliating and incompetent defeats on the battlefield. We hold the Church accountable for its malicious deception of the sorcerers and its cruel oppression of the believers. We hold the nobles who control the fiefdoms and taxation responsible for the nation's precarious debt and unreasonably high taxes. We hold the royal family and government responsible for the widespread famine, poverty, lack of food and clothing, and displacement throughout the country..."
Before the king could say anything, the official who had scolded the Third Council in front of the hall jumped out first, pointed at the ghost's nose and shouted: "Ridiculous! How dare you speak nonsense in front of His Majesty——"
The black-haired young man ignored him and spoke over him without hesitation: "If we can't get the answers we want, then we must take control of our own destiny and be responsible for ourselves!"
There was a dead silence. Then there was a sharp shout.
"How outrageous! How outrageous!" The official who had just rebuked him flew into a rage, his face flushed crimson, his fingers trembling like dry leaves in the wind. "Your Majesty! Such rebellious individuals should be apprehended immediately and executed to serve as a warning to others!"
"Shut up!" The ministers, assigned by the queen, were practically sweating profusely. He knew these attendants usually only cared about pleasing Cassius II—but could they use their heads? Was this the time to fan the flames and curry favor with the king?
"Capture me? This is the legal right I have to speak before His Majesty." The ghost sneered in response, "Do you intend to persuade His Majesty to openly violate the Constitution of the Silver Iris Empire, as revised in 1795?"
Although the royal family's power is still above the law, even the king himself cannot openly violate the law and kill a speaker who proposed a motion during the Blooming Conference if he does not want to get into big trouble - otherwise the other two parliaments will be the first to object.
This is the invisible shackles that were bought with the blood and flesh of countless predecessors and the immense sacrifices they made, allowing this team of civilians to stand in the council hall of Yuanxin Palace and have a face-to-face conversation with the almighty ruler.
Furthermore, the character of the current emperor... to put it nicely, he's kind, to put it bluntly, he's cowardly. He bears the title of "God's Favored One," but like an ostrich, he's completely buried in the sand of instant gratification, oblivious to the raging outside world.
Cassius II rubbed his forehead with a headache, sitting crookedly on the throne, watching the overly young Speaker of the Parliament who, even in the face of the roars and curses of more than a dozen attendants and ministers, still remained calm and debated with the crowd, not even losing the upper hand.
His ministers were spitting, many flushed with anger, looking as if they were about to pounce and tear the person apart. The statuesque silver-helmeted knights on either side of the hall had already placed their hands on their weapons, their armor rubbing against each other with a slight clinking sound, their gazes fixed firmly on the culprit who had caused all this uproar.
In comparison, the young man standing in the eye of the storm looked so thin, but there was no fear in his eyes, not even the anger that a human should have. It was as if he was silently watching a farce whose outcome had already been decided. With a cold, cruel, and almost compassionate scrutiny, his smoky gray eyes reflected the furious and twisted faces of hyenas whose territory had been invaded and whose blood was being robbed.
The members of the Third Council behind him looked furious.
"...Enough." Cassius II, whose head was about to explode from the noise, finally couldn't help but whispered.
No one paid any attention to him.
"I say—enough!"
A wine glass was smashed to the ground, and finally there was silence. The ministers shut up indignantly. Serving a weak and incompetent king who ignored state affairs was much better than dealing with a shrewd, capable, cold-blooded and cruel queen. They had to give Cassius II some face.
"Alright, alright, it's no big deal. I grant you the right to express your opinions," Cassius II said impatiently. "If you have anything to argue about, go to the Blooming Conference and don't bother with me."
The minister standing by felt dizzy.
Great, it went to the other extreme again - once this almost weak remark was uttered, all the previous show of strength was wasted, and it made the royal family appear to be cowardly and bullying the weak, while the king himself could only evade and shirk responsibility, with no dignity at all.
No, we cannot allow this group of untouchables to publicly release these ridiculous "proposals" that would make anyone faint at the mere sight of them on a legitimate platform. The minister attempted to persuade them, "Your Majesty, some of the demands previously submitted by the Third Parliament are unreasonable and smear campaigns against the foundations of the nation, potentially treasonous. According to Imperial law, you have the right to reject them, request that the Third Parliament resubmit the proposal, or reorganize its members..."
Cassius II felt the pain in his forehead grow. Those chaotic demands felt like countless needles piercing his temples. Was it a hangover headache? He just wanted to return to his luxurious chambers, to the embrace of wine, food, and a beautiful woman, wrapped in a warm, soft velvet blanket, instead of being scrutinized by a cold-eyed young man and bombarded with a barrage of troubles he didn't even want to understand.
"If it's unreasonable, what are you doing here? Then don't let them hand it in!" He waved his hand irritably, interrupting the minister as if to shoo away a buzzing fly. "I'm too lazy to read it. These matters... all of these should be raised at the Blooming Conference and handled according to legal procedures!"
"Your Majesty!" The minister stepped forward eagerly. "Only you have the right—"
"Enough! Don't you understand what I'm saying?!" Cassius II finally slammed the armrest of the throne, his voice laced with desperate hysteria and subtle fear. "I said! Follow the legal procedures! Raise it at the Blooming Conference! The Queen can do whatever she wants, just like she always does—why are you all bothering me so hypocritically now?!"
The king's sudden outburst plunged the entire hall into a suffocating silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of Cassius II. The ghost, however, calmly leaned slightly toward the king, his face showing neither surprise nor ecstasy, which made him look even more inhuman and terrifying.
"As you command, Your Majesty," the black-haired young man said expressionlessly. "Then the Third Council will formally raise the above questions and proposals at the Blooming Conference in accordance with the 1795 edition of the Silver Iris Empire Constitution. We deeply hope that Your Majesty will give the Third Council a responsible response."
"Let's go." He turned around and whispered to the excited members of the Third Parliament behind him, without looking at the exasperated minister or the tired king who was holding his forehead.
…
The silver-helmeted knight Winster Wharton took off the armor that showed off his status, and together with the eighty royal soldiers behind him, changed into clothes that could not reveal their faction.
In the eyes of those who were not in the know, the queen was making a big deal out of nothing. To attack such a pitifully small fiefdom, why did she need to mobilize the royal city army, which consisted of eighty sorcerers or warriors who were above the level of mid-level apostles, and even a silver-helmeted knight?
Winston Wharton felt that no matter how cautious he was, he could never be too cautious.
The gods won't intervene. To what extent, exactly? He didn't have the strange trust that the Queen had in a rival. The young man's mind was filled with the tragic sight of himself being torn to pieces.
It is said that Ghost does not have a good relationship with his family. In the early years, his cousin even took away the title that should have belonged to Ghost. Winster expressed his "admiration" for this cousin in his personal name. He could only bet that this was really not a good relationship.
...It's really ironic that in order to deal with the enemy, they have to hope that the relationship between the target and the enemy is very bad.
"Sir," his adjutant came closer to him, lowered his voice, and carefully confirmed again, "Is this mission confirmed to be a thorough cleansing of the Ironthorn Territory?"
——That is to say, massacre the entire city and leave no one alive.
"Yes." Winster pulled himself back to his thoughts and said in a deep voice, "His Majesty has ordered that all members of the Brody family and the people of Ironthorn Territory who are connected to the rebel leader Ghost must be killed."
The Batemans' intelligence wasn't entirely accurate—or perhaps they were deliberately leaving some room for debate.
"As you command," the adjutant replied calmly, disappearing into the darkness once again without a sound. They had done this kind of "dirty work" so many times that they were no longer surprised.
The wind picked up, and the dust of the wilderness, mixed with the stench of weapons, blew towards them, bringing an ominous chill, as if pre-empting the bloody scent that would soon spread across this land. In the twilight, the walls of Ironthorn Territory loomed on the horizon.
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