Author: 唇亡齿寒 / Lips Gone, Teeth Cold
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 147
While the Empire Royal Guard was still resting at Sword Bow, the Lady of the Night had already set off early, escorted by several battleships, heading back to the Empire Capital at the fastest speed. Leonard wasn’t interested in politics, but he knew that the Princess was hurrying back to the capital to deploy forces and prevent any opportunistic individuals with ulterior motives from causing trouble after the fall of the Duke.
This was a perfect opportunity to sweep away the hostile forces entrenched in the center of the Empire. Even someone like Leo, who had little interest in politics, knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. The excitement and anticipation of the humans seemed to infect the AI as well; during routine checks, he couldn’t help but bounce around, drawing complaints from the crew.
“Enough, Leo,” Ibb said, putting down the wrench in his hand. “What’s gotten into you today? You’re acting like you’re wound up. I’ve never seen you work this enthusiastically before.”
Titia, who was standing nearby, cradled her face in her hands. “Must be in heat.”
Her two brothers chimed in agreement.
“You three! Watch out or I’ll cut off your heating tonight!” Leo fumed.
At that moment, the cook, Celia, approached, looking anxious and bewildered. “Oh, Leo,” she called out, “have you seen Schrödinger and Pavlov? I can’t find them anywhere.”
Leo searched the ship but found no trace of the cat and dog. As an AI, he was certain there were no blind spots on the Lady of the Night—he could see every corner. But he didn’t see the cat and dog, meaning they weren’t on the ship.
He quickly pulled up the surveillance footage and discovered that while the ship was docked at Sword Bow, the two animals had sneaked off the ship and never returned. At that time, he had been too busy talking to the galactic cross-dressing diva to notice!
“Oh, damn it.” Leo felt a wave of despair. “I’ve lost Joshua’s emergency rations. He’s definitely going to kill me!”
……
Sixty-year-old Empire Chancellor Greenwald pulled back the heavy velvet curtains, gazing out at the cloudy sky. Lightning occasionally flashed through the thick clouds, signaling an imminent thunderstorm.
“It’s the rainy season in the capital again,” the Chancellor muttered to himself. He let the curtains fall, plunging the room into darkness. He didn’t turn on the lights but instead sat by the window, deep in thought. This was part of his daily routine—he needed an undisturbed, quiet environment to reflect on the past, the future, his life, and the state of the nation.
The Chancellor was deeply troubled. The news of the Empire Royal Guard’s great victory had arrived from the front lines, and the entire nation was celebrating. By all rights, Greenwald should be happy as well, since another threat to the Emperor’s throne had been eliminated. Yet, the elderly Chancellor found no joy in this moment.
He would be next.
Greenwald had served as Chancellor for over a decade, previously holding the position of Minister of Finance. Ever since he embarked on his political career, he had never left the power center of the Empire. He was deeply grateful to the late Emperor, who had promoted him, and had vowed to dedicate his life to the Empire. Now, he realized how reckless and naive he had been in his youth.
Today’s Greenwald was no longer the man he once was. Years of navigating the political arena had made him shrewd, mature, and reserved—qualities that the younger generation might describe as “cunning and sly”. The late Emperor had long since passed away, and now his daughter, Queen Noya I, sat on the throne. In the future, her daughter would reside in the White Radiance Palace. At some point, Greenwald had quietly changed. He was no longer the idealistic young man of the past. He had tasted power, and it was so intoxicating that anyone could become addicted, unable to extricate themselves. Greenwald, like a drunkard who craves alcohol, was attached to power (he never denied this). As long as he lived, he not only wanted to secure his position but also wanted to ensure that his family would be entrenched in the Empire’s central power, flourishing and growing into a deeply rooted tree that would draw nourishment from the land while sheltering the nation.
Many families had achieved this in the past (like the Bayes family, which held significant influence in both military and political spheres and often intermarried with the royal family, so much so that every descendant in the family had royal blood and a claim to the throne). But they had all been loyal followers of Emperor Nasir I since he set foot on the land of the Unfallen Star. For someone like Greenwald, who had risen from a commoner to the ranks of the Empire’s nobility, such a feat was unheard of.
Greenwald wanted to continue this miracle. The first step was to place the young members of his family in various positions of power, and he had already done this. The next step was to arrange a marriage with the royal family. Unfortunately, the second step had failed. He hadn’t succeeded in making his granddaughter the queen. His flawless plan had been ruined by a murder on the eve of the wedding. Prince Annot had ended up in a coffin, and the next in line for the throne was his sister. Greenwald didn’t have a grandson to marry the princess (nor did he think his granddaughter’s looks could entice the Princess). But that didn’t matter. He had a distant nephew who was the right age, and perhaps that could work.
Greenwald needed to act quickly and make all the necessary arrangements before he retired from the center of power, ensuring that his family’s legacy was on the right path. If he didn’t succeed before the Queen abdicated and the Princess ascended the throne, all his efforts would be in vain. The Chancellor knew that the Princess despised him more than anyone else; the blood feud over Prince Annot stood between them, and the Princess’s loyal ally, the young Count Bayes, would be even less forgiving. Although the Chancellor was courageous, he wasn’t reckless enough to send assassins like Duke Winnet. The current first in line to the throne was Princess Alveira, followed by Darius Bayes (it should have been the Duke’s daughter, Musaya, but she had been disinherited and was reportedly taken away by the Duke’s remaining forces, with no trace of her since). The chances of both of them being killed together were slim. If the Chancellor couldn’t secure his position before the Princess ascended the throne, the bloodshed of a regime change would strip him of everything.
Boom—
Thunder shook the windows and the Chancellor’s eardrums. His head buzzed, and it was a while before he heard a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” he asked. “I gave orders not to be disturbed.”
The butler’s voice came from outside the door. “Sir, a guest has arrived.”
“There’s no meeting scheduled for today,” Greenwald said. “What distinguished guest would come uninvited?”
The butler hesitated. “This… is a very special guest. She insisted on seeing you…”
Greenwald glanced at the dark, cloud-filled sky outside. Had it come so soon?
“Let her in.”
The butler left, and shortly after, Greenwald heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The butler personally opened the door for the guest, and after she entered, he respectfully closed the door.
Now, there were only two people in the room: Greenwald and the guest. The Chancellor turned his head with difficulty, just as a flash of lightning lit up the sky, casting a bluish glow over the dim room. The guest’s appearance was outlined by the lightning before being swallowed by the darkness again.
Greenwald lowered his head. “Forgive this old minister, who is too weak to stand and greet you, Your Highness.”
“No need,” the guest said. “I’m just here to chat with the Chancellor, not to compare heights. Whether you stand or not makes no difference.”
“Your Highness’s visit fills this old minister with dread. I heard the Royal Guard wouldn’t reach the capital for another week. How is it that you’ve returned so soon?”
“I was eager to get back, so I hurried here without stopping. As soon as I got off the ship, I came straight to your residence.”
“Was there something urgent that required such haste, Your Highness?”
“There’s a gift I wish to present to the Chancellor, and I hope you will accept it.”
It was only then that Greenwald noticed the guest was holding a submachine gun. The sight almost made him jump out of his chair. How dare she! Greenwald thought. Even if she is the heir to the Empire, she would still be tried for murder if she kills someone! How dare she kill me!
Unexpectedly, the guest didn’t fire but walked over to the corner where the desk was and placed the gun on the table. “This is the gun that killed the rebel Winnet. It’s quite commemorative, and I plan to name it the ‘Outlaw Slayer’ and place it in the National Museum. What do you think?”
A drop of cold sweat trickled down Greenwald’s forehead, but he didn’t wipe it away—doing so would reveal his nervousness. The room was so dim that the guest couldn’t see his expression.
“As Your Highness wishes,” he replied.
“Since it’s the Outlaw Slayer, it’s naturally meant to exterminate traitors and wicked ministers. I hope the Chancellor will find it useful.” The guest paused and then added, “I have another gift as well.” With that, she picked up a pen from the desk, pulled out a piece of paper, and wrote a few words on it. “This gift is also very valuable, so I’m afraid I can’t give it to you alongside the gun. Perhaps you should choose one of the two.”
“This old minister is deeply grateful for Your Highness’s generosity.” She’s threatening me, Greenwald thought. But I won’t give her a direct answer.
The guest didn’t press the Chancellor to choose but instead shifted the conversation. “I heard you have a nephew around my age living in a remote area. How about summoning him to the capital? But the journey from the remote area to the capital is long, and if anything unfortunate were to happen on the way, it would be disastrous…”
Greenwald’s back was drenched in cold sweat.
The guest continued, “I recall you have some younger relatives working in the Ministry of Finance. Now that the civil strife is over, I intend to clean up the court, starting with a thorough review of the budget and addressing corruption among officials. I wonder if your younger relatives could be of any help?”
Greenwald wasn’t particularly interested in wealth, but that didn’t necessarily apply to the younger members of his family. Wealth and power often go hand in hand. Once people pursue one, they often find themselves coveting the other.
“The Chancellor has served the Empire for decades, and both my mother and I have always acknowledged your contributions and hard work. Now that you are advanced in age, perhaps it’s time to retire, enjoy your family, and live out your days in peace. If you feel it’s appropriate, you can always express your desire to step down. There’s no need to shoulder all the burdens yourself. I’m still young, with many more years ahead of me, and there are plenty of young people in the court who will surely live up to your expectations.”
Greenwald opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was like a fish stranded on the shore, gasping for breath but unable to speak.
The guest adjusted her clothing. “I hurried back and haven’t even gone to the White Radiance Palace to greet my mother. I’ll take my leave now.” She turned to the door, grasped the handle, then turned back to add, “The commander of the Empire Capital Guard personally escorted me here, and I wouldn’t want to keep him waiting. In a week, the Royal Guard will arrive in the capital, led by Darius.”
She turned the handle and walked out.
Greenwald quickly got up and stumbled to the desk. The absurdly named submachine gun lay on the table, with a piece of paper beneath it. Lightning flashed, and torrential rain began to pour down as the electric light illuminated the words on the paper, neatly written—“Resignation Letter”.
Throughout his life, the Chancellor had written countless official documents, but he had never written a resignation letter. He thought it might be time to practice writing one.
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