by Feng Yue
“Quinn, I’m already this old. I’ve heard worse news.” Maxwell took off his hat and sighed. “Tell me. Don’t worry about my heart. It won’t fail now.”
The man handed over a picture wordlessly. It was a porcelain shop. All the porcelain there had been dyed blood-red. The workers were nailed to the wall. Before death, they had been tortured. Their eyes were full of despair.
“All dead,” Quinn said.
Maxwell took the picture. Without saying anything, he stuffed it in his pocket and walked to his office. He regretted saying too much. Clenching the picture, his heart thudded painfully.
When the office door closed, he looked up. Looking at the man sitting behind his desk, he sighed. Maxwell placed the picture in a drawer and poured some liquor from the table in the corner. He tugged his collar loose and collapsed on the sofa, downing the liquor. After a long, long time, he rasped out, “Lancelot, I hope that you didn’t come thousands of miles from Anglo to give me the third piece of bad news of today.”
The pale man behind the table coughed and nodded slightly. “Sorry but I am.”
Maxwell cursed like an old gangster from the streets. “Spit it out.” He laughed hoarsely. “I can’t wait.”
“Since last night, already four countries and more than ten groups notified us about various problems,” Lancelot said. “They might not be able to continue following through with our agreement of grain imports. The Privy Council has been able to keep things down but I think people will soon start raising the prices.
“I’m afraid it won’t be long before we need to take over the market and economy to forcefully set the prices. If the situation continues to worsen, we will need to start using rations. The Minister of Finance wants me to tell you that he is considering quitting.”
Maxwell froze. After a long while, he asked coldly, “How long can our war reserves last?”
“More than ten years,” Lancelot replied. “But are you sure you want the nation to enter the state of war so early? It’s too rushed, Maxwell. We will need to complete most preparations. It is too early…”
Maxwell fell silent. Anglo was an island country. More than half of the territory was on the sea. The other half was in the coastal area, easy to destroy. Anglo had always been a commerce country, relying on trade and technological research. In addition, its heavy industry was well-developed and was close to being the best in the world. However, none of that could make up for the country’s fatal weakness: its lack of fertile soil. It could not support much agriculture and therefore relied on imports for food.
This was why Anglo had established the East Indian Company when India was in chaos and created a colony. India had large swaths of fertile soil and could grow millet, rice, tea, meat…
To achieve this, Anglo had paid a lot. It threw more than half of the military into the quagmire but also accumulated much wealth. However, as India became more and more chaotic and Leviathan’s threat loomed, the colony shrunk. More and more people wished the country would pull the troops back.
Faced with one of the four living beasts, there were never enough supplies.
“Guess who’s pressuring them?”
Maxwell did not even need to think to know the answer. Of course it was the Ecclesiastical Order! Those old guys only needed to use some of their connections and the families could use their political power to achieve this. They did not even have to destroy the agreements. They only needed to spread some rumors and the citizens would be thrown into chaos.
If the imports were delayed three months, Anglo would be forced into a regulatory state.
“So f*cked…” Maxwell lifted the bottle of liquor. Not in the mood to search for a glass, he drank half the bottle in one breath. After a long while, he said, “I saw Ludovic.”
“I know.” Lancelot nodded.
Maxwell laughed at himself. “For a moment, I wanted to kill him. Without caring about anything, just kill him.” He looked down at the liquor. “But then I hesitated. Now I regret it…” He murmured, “I really hesitated. I should have killed him.”
“Killing him would do nothing.” Lancelot stood up and patted his shoulder. “Her Majesty gave you the authority for this matter. Everything is up to you. She wanted me to tell you that Anglo is a country that inherited dragon blood. We suffer from it but we also find pride in it.”
Rather than replying, Maxwell smiled bitterly.
“Ludovic was right…I’m a liar who pretends to dream with the kid. I have no way of withstanding the possible consequences.” He sighed. “I really regret it, Lancelot. Why did I agree to take this back then? It would have been so much better if I just stayed in the Jianlan Underground Palace.”
“You want to give up now?” Lancelot’s voice was low. “I gave you all my trust. If you give up, my family will be after you.”
“Who said I’m giving up?” Maxwell looked up. “I still have an idea but it depends on whether you are willing to give up your position.”
“The third amendment?” It dawned on Lancelot. The third amendment stated that the Sacred City ruled over man’s soul while the nations ruled over the man’s body. God’s domain belonged to God; man’s domain belonged to the men.
It was stated in the amendment that the Sacred City had no right to interfere in a country’s matters. Its extension stated the nobles were to be prosecuted by the country rather than the Sacred City. The ‘noble’ mentioned here was not the type titled by the country but the true nobles who could trace their sources. According to pedigree, the title of the Anglo emperor was only an archduke. ‘Emperor’ was a self-proclaimed title and was regulated by the Sacred City.
It was impossible to pull a title out of thin air for Ye Qingxuan.
However, if Lancelot was willing to step down, the title of the family leader would be given to Ye Qingxuan as according to Anglo’s law of inheritance. Then he would be the current Lancelot and inherit the title of Earl. Then Ye Qingxuan’s trial would not be under the Sacred City’s jurisdiction.
“As expected of Maxwell.” Lancelot smiled wryly. “This was the only solution that the national lawyers could think of after countless conferences and yet you thought of it by yourself.”
“So what of it?” Maxwell glanced at him. “You’re not willing to give up your status and power? Your position in the Privy Council is for life, don’t worry.”
“No, I support this idea more than anyone else.” Lancelot shook his head. “But Maxwell, you don’t understand him. You do not understand this child well enough… You do not know what the Lancelot family did back then…”
Hanging his head, he murmured, “Back then, when he needed help the most, the family betrayed him. Ye Lanzhou died because of it. His mother was exiled and died in a border village… After that, I saw that he had returned by himself. He did not look like a child anymore.
“Maxwell, you don’t know how happy I was when I realized that he was still alive. His eyes are so similar to his mother’s. He can just gaze at you and you will feel fear. He is my sister’s child. I wish I can give him my everything to make up for the tiniest bit of damage. But sadly…” He bent over, coughing violently. Dark blood streamed from his mouth and nose. After a long time, he recovered though his expression was still dark.
“Maxwell, give up on this idea. He’ll never forgive us.” Lancelot shook his head slowly. “He would rather die than have anything to do with this family.”
Maxwell glared at him. “Yes, your father’s sins are still causing trouble today. It is all because of him!”
Lancelot fell silent.
The suffocating silence continued until the sun set. It was broken by knocks on the door. The knocking was neither slow nor fast. They could sense that whoever it was, he was not the embassy! The two exchanged glances.
Lancelot reached for the ornamental sword on the wall. Coldness flashed past his eyes. Maxwell rose and opened the door.
“Excuse me, is it Mr. Maxwell?” There seemed to be a man outside the door. He was co
vered entirely in a hooded cloak with his face covered by a special veil. Only his graying hair was revealed. “My apologies for coming without an invitation. I just felt it was necessary to meet with you.” He removed the veil, revealing his face. At that moment, Maxwell and Lancelot almost forgot to breathe.
“It’s you…”
-
In a certain cell of the Judgement Tower, a guy who had been sleeping and eating for two days straight was now sleeping. He had gained three kilograms. His originally handsome face was now bloated. When he woke up, he opened his eyes and glanced outside at the sunset. He yawned, rolled over, and continued sleeping. In his dream, he seemed to be feasting on something. This type of life was not bad but…it felt so sad to be forgotten!
418 Court Session
It was December 24th in the Sacred City. In the heart of the city, three sets of large doors opened in the solemn square surrounded by statues of saints. One led to the Papal Chamber, the core of the Sacred City, the core of the core. It was where everything saintly and theological resided. One led to the Holy Instrument Hall. The instruments of saints from various countries and other holy instruments, natural catastrophe scores, saintly inheritances, and other relics were kept there. It was a shrine for everything related to musicians. One led to the Sacred Court. It was where the Church and Sacred City executed and carried out all law and order.
Everything related to God, wisdom, and order in the world existed here.
Early in the morning, it was already bustling. A mass of people stirred outside the square. Armed guards tried to maintain order but the reporters who tried to get to the front could not be stopped. It had been so long since there was such big drama. It was the hottest news from the Sacred City in decades.
The first was Colt’s identity as a hero being overturned. Then it was him being killed right before the Sacred City gates. Finally, it was the murderer accepting the arrest. And now, it was finally the day of the court session opened! This news had been brewing for the past few days. Even though it was censored, the civilians were still curious and attracted even more bystanders.
Of course, Maxwell had something to do with this. After all, the more people who followed the news, the less chance of dirty tricks. Pressured by public onion, the Amnesty Institute, in charge of the Sacred Court, put out the strongest team. The deputy minister Borja was the judge. For the past few days, countless events had happened. They were all stressed over this matter.
Outside the square, a cry suddenly sounded above the din. “They’re here! They’re here! I see the procession!”
Soon, a solemn procession moved through the cleared street. Between the armed guards was a sealed steel car. The crowd started yelling but it was too chaotic to tell if they were cheering or jeering.
“Well, it sounds pretty intense. It’s big news, right?”
In the carriage, Ye Qingxuan sat layered in shackles. He sighed and glanced at the muscular black-clothed guards on either side. The guards and musicians acted as if he did not exist. It was boring.
Ye Qingxuan did not seem stressed at being the accused for the first time. He knew how serious his actions had been. He had already been prepared to die before he prepared the mission.
For someone who did not even fear death, not many other things were scary. However, if possible, Ye Qingxuan still wished to live. It would be great if he could live.
While he thought nonsense, the door suddenly opened. Amidst the din, Ye Qingxuan was forced off the car. He passed through the square between the many guards and climbed the white stone steps. When he reached the middle, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the crowd. The people sensed his gaze and the cheering or jeering instantly raised an octave. However, Ye Qingxuan’s eyes moved past them to the quiet square.
There stood a black iron monument. The gloomy monument rose in the center of the square, between the Papal Chamber, the Holy Instrument Hall, and the Sacred Court. Ye Qingxuan studied it silently. No matter how the guards shoved him, his eyes were focused.
He sighed, “Is this…fate?”
This was the Tablet of Fate. According to legends, this was the top holy instrument. ‘Fate’ was something that could not be touched. It was also the hardest proposition. Nothing could escape fate’s plan; everything was fated.
Even struggling seemed to be part of fate.
God held this invisible web, controlling how the world operated. But here, other than the abstract meaning, the word represented something else.
It was the Kind of Red’s scepter score—Fate! It was the legend of legends, the mightiest of all mightiness—it was the strongest music score in the world!
This tablet was famous and even played a role in many legends because the entirety of Fate was carved on it. The Sacred City even put it out in public for people to look at. If a musician wished to study it, he could find a duplicate in any shop or stall. They were sold for five dollars per book or even a package with more resources for fifteen.
Of course, this was all useless. The structure of the music score seemed to be simple but no matter how it was played, it would have no effect. Practically every musician who came to the Sacred City would try to decode the tablet’s secret but no one has been able to play it successfully. Other than the mighty King of Red.
‘Fate’ would only unleash its power in the hands of the Pope. There were no tricks or secrets. The melody just created unbelievable effects in his hands. It was a miracle.
In myths, people even said that anyone who could perform Fate would be the next King of Red. It was as if the Pope’s crown was passed down through this mysterious yet odd requirement.
For years, countless researchers had tried to undo this secret. Three hundred years ago, decoding master Enrique had spent four days before it until he vomited blood and died. It added another mysterious veil to the tablet. After that, more and more musicians tried figuring out the secret. No one succeeded.
No matter how hard people tried, nothing changed. The music theory structure could not established. It could not have any effects and could barely even be called a music score. It was at most just a majestic symphony.
That was it.
Decades ago, the last grandmaster who had vowed to decode it finally gave up. He had used up forty years. From then on, the white-haired grandmaster decided to never speak of music theory. He gave up his status as a musician and chose to join the clergy as a regular priest until death. He had already witnessed the insignificance of the mortal man.
It was evidence of God’s existence!
This was also why the Sacred City displayed it so brazenly. Only God could turn a failure into a legend. This was God’s blessing; all glory and holiness naturally resided there. Therefore, only the Pope—God’s apostle—could control the power of Fate. This was the King of Red’s crown.
Created by God, it was unshakable.
This was proof of Fate’s existence and of God’s existence. This tablet established all justice, order, and the foundation of holiness. It separated God from men like a ruler.
This was why it could be ranked before all holy instruments even without any power or additions. As a pure piece of metal, it was able to be number one.
There was nothing more undeniable than that fact.
“A pity. I would be great if I could take a look.” Ye Qingxuan sighed. He looked away and allowed the guards to push him through the door.
Behind him, the door slammed shut. After going through many gates and searches, all that remained on Ye Qingxuan were the symbolic shackles on his feet.
The final door opened before him. Under the solemn atmosphere, he stepped in and looked up at the holy emblem in the ceiling. It seemed to descend from the sky.
The time of judgement had arrived.
419 First Trial
Under the solemn atmosphere, Ye Qingxuan walked into the pen half as tall as him and sat on the chair. With a click, the handcuffs were chained onto the armrests.
The chair was very high
quality. It was comfortable and matched the curves in one’s figure. Though it was for criminals, the work was still very fine. This was the Sacred Court, after all. It was the most important judiciary in the world. People who were tried here all had high status. Therefore, the Sacred City would not be stingy here. Even criminals received humane treatment.
However, it reminded Ye Qingxuan of the final meal before an execution in the East. Everyone would treat those about to die nicely, right? The nicer, the less they would want to die—the more painful it would be.
He lowered his head and waited quietly for the session to open. In the silent courtroom, the complex gazes fell on the quiet youth. Other than the packed seats, there were also twelve jurors for fairness. They sat on either side and quietly studied Ye Qingxuan. This matter involved the Sacred City and the nations so the agents from embassies had arrived. Of course, on the surface, they were all high-status nobles from the Sacred City. There were also priests from the various departments of the Church. It seemed to be their first time seeing Ye Qingxuan and they were all a bit shocked.
“Heard he’s a white-haired Easterner but I never thought he’d be as pretty as a girl,” the judge from the Corsica Federation murmured. “I thought he would look manlier.”
“Manly? How?” The old man beside him scoffed. “Having a face of hair like a bear?”
“As long as he doesn’t look like an old monkey.” Before the old man could lose his temper, the Corsica judge turned to the other side. “What do you think?”
“I can’t tell.” The young man smiled wryly. “I think Easterners all look the same… Why don’t you ask Mr. Hu?”
The white-haired middle aged man at the end of the smiled but did not reply. He just gazed at Ye Qingxuan with troubled and heavy eyes. Beside him, the Asgardian ambassador appeared in the juror section without disguises. He was a typical crude Asgardian. Glancing at the quiet Mr. Hu, he asked, “What do you think of the Sacred City’s decision?”
