Make Empire Great Again (1)
Ten years, or five at most. That's all the suffering I need to endure. With that thought in mind, I pulled an all-nighter preparing my speech and documents. And then I fell asleep.
"Ah, Father...!"
"My son..."
"Father!!"
And then Father appeared in my dream. He showed up with a halo behind his head, just like Jesus, and said,
"My son...!"
"Yes, Father! I'm listening!"
"My son! ...Spin in circles."
"...Pardon?"
"Spin in circles. You've worked hard enough."
That's what he said.
"?!"
Thud! At that moment, my legs slammed into the desk, jolting me awake.
"Gah?! It was just a dream?"
I turned my head to look at Father's portrait on the right wall. For some reason, it seemed like he was smirking at me.
"...Father."
That's too much. But I miss you anyway. Our father, who barely slept taking care of my sisters and me. He passed away far too early, leaving me with this crushing burden.
Such a kid ended up sleeping only four hours, face-down on the desk. Isn't it ironic? The first night after deciding to live easy, and I only got four hours. It took more time than expected to formalize the reform draft into an official document, but still, I feel a bit wronged. I had no idea preparing for an easy life would be this exhausting.
"But I can't just say 'I'm not doing it! I'm going on strike!' I'm the emperor, after all, and I have to protect the nation... Wait, what was a strike again?"
I think I learned about it somewhere.
Knock knock knock!
"Your Majesty."
I woke up right at 7 a.m., and the chamberlain knocked on the door.
"Your Majesty, it's time to rise."
"Ah, uh, I'm up. Come in."
"Pardon the intrusion."
Creeeak! The door to what served as both my office and bedroom opened, revealing the chamberlain, whose face resembled an old man's. He said,
"Breakfast has been prepared in the kitchen—"
"Just bring me a piece of bread. I'll eat it on the way."
"On the way...?"
"I'm heading to the Senate."
A faint twitch crossed the chamberlain's face.
"Th-the Senate, Your Majesty?"
"That's right. Any issue?"
"Well..."
Visiting the Senate on the second day of my reign must feel like too much spice. But to ensure swift and peaceful convenience, I can't afford to waste even a day. To live easy, I have to wrap everything up in advance.
Typically, a new emperor's first Senate appearance is within at least a month of ascension. That means going through a week-long ice-breaking period to get to know each other. The senators are loyalists anyway, like it or not. The custom is to descend upon the assembly like bestowing grace, after fully establishing imperial dignity. The quickest precedent was Father, Kaius VII, who visited after 17 days—and even that drew complaints of being too hasty.
And here I was, a 21-year-old hot-blooded something-or-other, brazenly deciding to go now. The chamberlain realized he was dealing with an emperor, not just a young man, swallowed whatever he wanted to say, and closed his mouth. Probably something like, "Your Majesty, isn't it too soon?"
"Assemble a small Imperial Guard escort. Keep the procession minimal."
"And the exact scale...?"
"Ten guardsmen should suffice, no?"
"...Ten, Your Majesty?"
Why the reaction? Too much?
"Ah, too many?"
"Too few, Your Majesty. Regulations require at least 500 for outings—"
"Dragging 500 to the Senate would make it look like I'm off to war. I'm not conquering the assembly or smashing what's left of it—I'm just going to talk. Talk. Got it?"
"Ah... gasp. Uh, um, er..."
The chamberlain's face grew paler, but since I'm the emperor and I've decided, he couldn't object. The authority passed down through eight generations had no Yeonsangun-like disasters in between, making its legitimacy and power increasingly formidable. Naturally, my authority at 21 was overhyped.
Anyway, today's task is clear: Go to the Senate, announce the reforms, and leave. No debates. My goal is to dump this agenda on them, not negotiate. I just need to gather all my authority, shape it into a bomb, and lob it.
"Let's go."
"Y-yes, Your Majesty..."
Why the shit-eating face? No idea.
[10 Minutes Later]
"...Still tastes like crap."
The bread I was eating was whole wheat. The staple for common folk—tasteless, rock-hard, but with decent nutrition and mass-producibility, it barely survives. There's even a sad tale of it becoming the main food source.
I stuffed that whole wheat bread into my mouth as I headed to the assembly where the senators gathered.
"Here we are..."
More formally, the Senatus Aula, the Imperial Senate. Not as grand as the great hall, but this building is massive. Located in Terra's top administrative layer, this hemispherical dome spans two kilometers in diameter, designed with tiered concentric seats for 3,000 senators. The dome ceiling glows with holographic constellations symbolizing the empire's eight spiral arms. When I arrived, they were in a routine session.
Routine sessions aren't a big deal. The Senate has no real power now, so it's basically "time to practice speeches while waiting for imperial edicts." They're just role-playing among themselves, upvoting each other's fanfic, forming cliques, and opening shitstorms—like you'd see in the Humanity Empire Minor Gallery.
The progressives huddle, chanting reforms and fantasizing about chopping off the emperor's head for a free human federation alternate history. The imperialists cluster, yelling about tradition and "The Emperor Is Super Easy waaaagh!!!!" to build consensus in their fanfic. The neutrals doze off going "I see." That's daily life.
The moment I entered through the main doors, senators who turned to check who it was went pale upon seeing my face, whispered to neighbors, and the interior froze solid in seconds. The emperor on day two of his reign, no prior notice, with just ten guardsmen. They were shocked by the surprise inspection.
In this vast dome, 2,200 people silencing themselves at once made silence feel like physical weight.
"Ahem..."
Act casual. I'm the emperor, right? Too much pressure looks bad. Leisurely, yet without losing dignity: Place one guard on each side, the rest at the doors. Then walk to the central podium.
This podium is normally for the Senate Chairman only; emperors sit in a separate seat. Not strictly mandatory, just custom. Tradition is speaking from the highest throne overlooking below, but I ignored that ominous "Imperial Throne" and took the podium. Speaking from on high makes you a ruler; eye-level makes you peers. Not peers yet, but gesture toward it.
That's how you manipulate the shit out of them!!!
Package "Let's do this together" prettily for those snorting bulls down there. Gaslight them into "Shall we try?" and make them suffer alongside. Then they wake up realizing they've made the emperor a reigning but non-ruling figure while they do all the work.
Nice. This is constitutional monarchy fanfic.
With countless senators watching me at the podium, I boldly opened my mouth and stated my position.
"I have come today to declare that a crisis looms over the empire."
Open plainly(?). Heart pounding like mad, but voice steady, shout confidently.
"Yesterday, at my coronation, I confirmed your loyalty."
Ceremonial so far. They look confused, wondering what weird thing I'm about to say after jumping to crisis from loyalty.
Hah, already relaxing. Now the fun timing.
"And I judge that loyalty insufficient."
Confused faces tensed instantly.
"Do you know why I made that judgment?"
Pause in silence, scan the room. Coughs and gulps, no real answers. I clenched my right fist, slammed the podium—thud!—and shouted,
"Because your loyalty is directed only to me!"
Sounds like bullshit, and it is. Question marks floated invisibly over thousands of heads: What's wrong with loyalty only to the emperor?
"You are representatives of the empire's 890 quadrillion subjects before you are my vassals."
Now the main point.
"Yet looking at this assembly, I see no representatives."
Slowly turn head from podium, survey the entire chamber. Left: imperialists. Right: progressives. Center: neutrals. Eye each, then front.
"In my view, you senators and this Senate are as good as dead."
Silence like a shockwave across the dome. They'll wonder: insult or declaration of war?
"What meaning does a legislature without legislative power have? What representative body is 3,000 people just advising while awaiting edicts? You're ornamental potted plants. More harshly, you're clapping potted plants. Utterly useless."
"Nonsense!" someone from the imperialists shouted at "potted plants."
I turned toward the voice: Dominic Habsburg, low noble from Primus Arm, hardline imperialist senator. Diehard "imperial edicts are law" from Father's era—a super boomer. Even he can't accept this drastic change.
"If you find it rude, unreasonable, or unfair, I apologize, Senator Habsburg. But it's the truth."
Perfectly naming one among thousands on the spot: surprise flashed on Habsburg's face, subtle ripples among neighbors.
"Today, I will make beans grow from these potted plants. Because, as I said, the empire is in crisis. No more mere pretty flowers—we'll produce something, giving humanity greater hope. Bean plants that grow beans, as they should."
Pause for breath, drop the next line.
"I grant the Senate legislative initiative."
"...Huh?!"
"What!?"
Predictably, progressives reacted first, ecstatic like tasting heaven, cheering wildly.
"Hurray!!!"
"Long live Emperor His Majesty!!"
"Do as you wish, our Emperor!!"
Legislative initiative: what they'd demanded for decades. Outwardly thrilled. Imperialists scowled, of course.
"If you are loyal to the empire and people, not just the emperor, you need a representative for that loyalty. Thus, I establish the Prime Minister position. The Senate-elected PM will form a cabinet and oversee administration."
Murmurs grow.
"Also, abolish the corrupt sector governorship appointment system. Switch provincial governors to local assembly recommendations ratified by the Senate! This repays the karma from Father's era."
Murmurs to uproar.
"Transfer peacetime operational command to the Defense Committee. Peace deserves warmth; stability through oppression and violence is arrogance. Remember: give the people more whole wheat bread instead of swords."
Uproar nears chaos.
"And we rule hetero-species planets. They are subjects too, though not human. Enact the Autonomy Guarantee Basic Law for 120 quadrillion of them: autonomous planets, Senate seats, local assembly powers."
This was the bomb. Powder keg of karma from emperors 1 through 7—and me—they'd grumbled about but never challenged. Imperialists furious, progressives too extreme even for most radicals (extremists aside). Shouts flew, short of blasphemy.
"Your Majesty!!!"
"If disloyal, strike off our heads!!!"
"Have mercy!!!"
I pierced the noise with the final clause.
"Finally!! I am disappointed in you. Expect the emperor to handle everything? Arrogance, blasphemy thinking the emperor not human. I will limit imperial edict power to emergencies only, using all my authority."
Self-imposed shackles weakened their cause; shouting stopped.
"Wh-what?!"
"Eh?!"
"Your Majesty!!! Don't fall for progressive tricks!!!"
"Progressives!! What did you do?!"
Imperialists rattled. Progressives...
"...Your Majesty, that's a bit much."
"W-well, imperialists are still the majority, Your Majesty."
"That might not even be the real emperor. Shed the skin and show yourself, elf!!!"
Even they looked distrustful. Fine, expected. First five reforms restructure assembly and executive; last is emperor self-harming by limiting power. In 1,200 years, no emperor voluntarily restricted edicts. Not one.
This silence held incomprehension. I let it soak: shock, joy, rage, confusion, doubt, awe. Emotions swirling in the dome. Satisfied, next phase.
"I want something from you."
Murmurs again. Command:
"Form parties."
That short phrase left them staring blankly.
"Loose alliances like progressives or imperialists aren't enough. Unite and compete via formal parties. Craft platforms from beliefs, policies from desires, elect strongest smartest leaders. Build organizations to handle my tasks yourselves. Understood?"
Basically auto-farm, but sounded plausible aloud.
"You are citizens' representatives before my vassals. Be loyal to all 890 quadrillion, not just me. Loyalty to me pleases one; to citizens, quadrillions. Judge what's best for the empire."
Pause speech.
Phew... Did it convince them?
And soon.
Clap clap clap clap! Progressive side started applauding. One led, spread, whole faction joined. Momentum pulled neutrals, then imperialists—welcoming legalized slavery.
Perfect. Groupthink at work.
Now climax. End notifications spectacularly for lingering rumination. Step forward at podium. Arms not spread wide, but voice booming to dome's edge, gripping podium edges:
"Yet despite crisis, the empire has salvation. I will dismantle with you the outdated bureaucracy unfit for 1,200 years past, present, future. Strip noble privileges sucking blood without duty; end hereditary sector governor powers breeding corruption; break megacorp arms monopolies. Reform legal systems treating hetero-species citizens as second-class; education, judiciary, taxation, trade—everything old, broken, wrong while I live."
Right hand to chest, eyes shut:
"I do not deny the empire's greatness."
Eyes snap open, slam hands on podium corners, roar:
"But complacency in greatness wasted time catastrophically! Progress halted, decline began. Escaping crisis without true reform is mere delay. Thus, I take duty to prevent that—and make empire great again. You will be loyal vassals following..."
Here, prepared phrase. Religions have salvation matching apocalypse.
"You will share my duty: Make Empire Great Again!"
MEGA. Big, strong, simple, powerful word.
"I cannot make empire great alone. I need you."
Fists clenched, swing emphatically:
"Not seat-fillers: form parties, join them, traverse empire gathering needs, fight irrationality, call out wrongs, embrace rational criticism for progress, takeoff to advancement—as politicians loving empire! Prepare to become that."
Step back, end speech.
"That's all for today. Understand my words, strive to become such politicians. I trust only you."
Turn away.
Now you handle it all.
No questions.
"Your Majesty!"
Predictably, someone called. Progressive Vice Chair Livia Castellana.
"A question, Your Majesty!"
Imperialists too. Chairman Marcus Valerian's deep voice:
"Your Majesty, the progressive crisis claim is wrong!! Our empire has no crisis!"
I ignored their cries, kept walking. I lacked confidence. Confidence in winning debates...