5. Make Empire Great Again (3)
As soon as the two parties were officially formed, it was only natural—but the pent-up desires that had been suppressed for so long began to erupt. Right on cue: bill proposals.
"We demand the adoption of this bill."
"Our party opposes it."
"Hah, then do you have something better?"
"Of course."
"Then we oppose it."
"???"
Well, for every bill that popped up, there were just as many takedowns. And since it was the early days, factions within the parties were clashing too—imperialists versus libertarians versus neutrals—clumping together in clusters. Some wanted radical change, others moderation, and a few just itched to troll everything into chaos. It was a total mess.
Of course, everyone had a clear goal at heart. The Civitas Union aimed for 100% implementation of the emperor's reforms, blasting out a whopping 47 bills in just one week after his ascension. Not just education reform, but hetero-species citizenship laws, plus governor elections for the Stellar Sector, prime minister elections, civilian oversight of the military, trade liberalization, and judicial independence.
Castellana pulled all-nighters with her congressmen, churning out bills like she was back in her youthful prime. She was convinced these would form the foundation of the emperor's 500-year plan.
"C-Congresswoman Castellana... when are we ever going to finish all this...?"
"We can do it... if it's us!"
While the libertarian Civitas Union gritted their teeth and went into overdrive like that, the Corona Imperial didn't back down either.
"We can do it too...!"
"Argh! Those bastards are stealing the imperialists' spirit!"
"We'll be even more loyal!! You bet we will!"
In response to the Civitas Union's 47 bills, Corona Imperial fired back with 38 amendments and alternatives. Krupp drafted military industry restructuring, Shenkov pushed army reforms, and Valerian personally wrote up the senate operating rules.
Their logic? "The emperor wants reform, so we'll reform—but in a way that upholds imperial tradition! MEGA!"
The result: 85 bills piled up in the Senatus Aula just one week after the ascension, exactly as the emperor wanted (though he'd deny it). Considering that the previous year's total was a measly 12 bills—and even those were dubious nonsense no one could verify—this was a monumental leap, faster than light.
When lawmakers realized a year's workload had ballooned sevenfold in a single week, most grasped what the emperor had been getting at.
"Ah! Now I get why His Majesty called us useless! Without him guiding us, we're just decorative potted plants that can't do shit!"
"Haha, exactly! Long live Emperor Leo!!"
"I'll follow His Majesty to my dying breath...!"
This time, the congressmen truly felt things would be different. They resolved to trust the emperor.
And no one—not a soul—realized that all 85 bill reports would soon land on the emperor's desk.
Meanwhile, amid this massive tidal wave, one tiny group flowed in a completely different direction.
On the top floor of the capitol, in a seldom-used small conference room, just five congressmen had gathered.
"Thanks for coming, everyone."
Dominic Habsburg, a low-ranking noble from the Primus Arm. The very congressman who'd shouted "That's impossible!" when the emperor called them potted plants. He addressed the group.
An extreme imperial absolutist among imperialists, he lived by the creed "The emperor's word is law, and law is the cosmic order"—the pinnacle of super-boomer conservatives, SSS-tier.
"No problem at all, Congressman Habsburg."
Beside him sat Erica von Stein, 78, from a military family in the Primus Arm. Daughter of a lineage producing officers for three generations, she'd been a navy lieutenant colonel before retiring to represent her family's territory. Her loyalty to the military and throne ran bone-deep—another super-boomer.
"Well... we all think alike, so of course we gathered. Haha."
Oswald Theodor, 135, a Secondus Arm bureaucrat who'd spent his life in imperial administration before becoming a congressman. A veteran who truly believed the empire's system was a "perfect pyramid topped by the emperor," opposing anything that disrupted it. Bureaucratic super-boomer.
"Quite right. We're all the same."
Maximilian de Fleur, 92, a Primus Arm noble. Small stature, sharp nose, half-lidded eyes that made him look sleepy—but he wielded the sharpest mind, a massive conspiracy theorist who made hunting hidden agendas his hobby and specialty. Deep state enthusiast.
"Hahaha... aren't we all just patriots?"
And finally, Herta Eichmann, 68, from the Tertius Arm border sectors. The youngest and most passionate of the five—and the most directionless. A newbie, but her zeal for absolutism matched anyone's, a hilariously double-edged "strength."
They shared one thing: disagreement with Chairman Valerian's mainstream imperialist conclusion (Corona Imperial's line) that "the emperor has a 500-year plan."
More precisely, they wanted to dig deeper into what they saw as the "true truth." They weren't thrilled with the Civitas Union's libertarian takes either.
Maximilian de Fleur opened his half-lidded eyes and spoke.
"Everyone, I won't say Chairman Valerian's interpretation is wrong. But it's incomplete."
Habsburg nodded. "I agree. There's a missing piece... it makes me uneasy."
"I'll tell you what that piece is."
De Fleur raised a finger.
"What were His Majesty's first words in the capitol today?"
Erica von Stein answered instantly. Military precision in memory.
"The senate is dead, the empire is in crisis."
"Exactly. Dead and in crisis. And naturally, as potted plants, the empire's 'master' judged us dead because we can't think for ourselves. That's the key."
De Fleur traced a circle on the table with his finger.
"His Majesty didn't empower the senate. He's testing it."
The room's air shifted.
"Think about it. For 1,200 years, the senate was just an advisory body. Suddenly granting it legislative initiative—what happens? Can it handle it? Out of 3,000 congressmen, how many can actually draft bills?"
Oswald Theodor answered with bureaucratic instinct.
"Honestly... not even one in ten. Bills were always drafted by the imperial legal advisors."
"Precisely."
De Fleur's eyes snapped fully open, his voice fervent.
"His Majesty isn't assigning work to the senate. He's making it prove its own incompetence!"
Habsburg slammed the table in admiration.
"Brilliant! By empowering it, he'll show it's turned into a circus?!"
"Yes."
De Fleur nodded.
"Once the mess is confirmed, His Majesty will say, 'Look, I gave you a chance, but the senate failed on its own.' And then..."
"He'll dissolve it by edict."
Erica von Stein concluded, soldier-straight.
Silence fell.
If this change succeeded as planned, it'd be good for the empire. But these five gathered because they didn't trust 3,000 congressmen brainstorming to any coherent end. Humans in groups of four or more always spawned dissenters. Humanity's history—from ideological brawls on old Earth to post-unification splits into imperialists and libertarians—proved it. Cultures, literature, sensibilities clashed endlessly.
In the heavy silence of puzzle pieces clicking, they all saw it: "Whatever happens, His Majesty wins."
Of course, banking on near-certain failure, their grand idealistic plan just meant preparing for the aftermath.
Herta Eichmann could barely stay seated, bursting with excitement.
"S-So His Majesty's real plan is... completing absolute monarchy?!"
De Fleur replied.
"To legally, legitimately, irrefutably remove the outdated senate ornament. If it fails itself, what will the people rely on?"
"Ah...!"
Tears of awe gleamed in Habsburg's eyes.
"As expected... of Astraea blood. Scheming like this at 21..."
Oswald Theodor raised a pedantic (boomer) objection.
"But if that's the plan, why not tell us directly? He'd have our support."
De Fleur gave a wry smile.
"Congressman Theodor, that's exactly why he's testing us. What have imperialists done? Sat waiting for edicts. We never thought or acted ourselves—we were the useless ones, blind to it. His new Majesty exposed that, and he's disappointed."
"...A polite slap in the face."
Habsburg said bitterly.
"Yes. 'Form parties and run' sounds encouraging on the surface, but it's really 'What have you done until now?' Empowering the senate and failing proves our incompetence—we'd be sealing our own fate."
Change is terrifying. In games, comics, or dramas with no real stakes, it'd split into "good/bad" debates. But this was politics, reshaping daily life. The emperor led it, declaring (in his words): "It'll change. I have the will and power. Like it or quit, accept and join—or get out. No neutrals needed."
"Neutral" sounded noble, but it boiled down to "Winner's side."
These five had zero intention of neutrality. Better to be everyone's enemy and prove true loyalty.
The thought synchronized in the cramped room, heavy air descending.
"Loyal retainers..."
"Us...?"
"Yeah. Or what, those bastards better?"
"Humanity's always fought for politics."
"This is no different."
Then Erica von Stein slammed her fist on the table.
"Our task is clear. Those blind to His Majesty's true will—the ones making parties and bills, worrying him—they're sabotaging the plan. We stop them."
"Specifically?"
Theodor asked.
Habsburg answered, his 110-year-old voice firmest ever.
"Some fool—no, eunuch—misled His Majesty. Twisting his pure intent into party circuses, blocking his eyes and ears in the chaos."
"Castellana."
Von Stein said coldly.
"Not just her. The whole Civitas Union, and Valerian's Corona Imperial. Blind to his intent, they party up and politic, flooding bills he must review. Worrying him, overloading work, obstructing his grand plan!"
Herta Eichmann clenched her fist.
"We stop them! We, His Majesty's loyal vassals!"
Finally, de Fleur summed up, proclaiming:
"To clarify: His true goal—prove senate incompetence, legally dissolve it, establish absolute monarchy. Success or not, the senate lost function without him. Our mission: aid the plan, eliminate obstacles."
Eyes half-closed, he declared:
"Our ultimate goal: total senate dissolution."
The five nodded. Secret resolve settled in the room.
Habsburg said, "We need organization. A name to move."
De Fleur: "No public name. But internal codename, yes."
Erica von Stein proposed: "How about Bastion of Blood? Just five now, but noble purpose, potential. And a facade party for cover. If we split from Corona someday."
"Hm..."
"Not bad."
They agreed. Thus, Bastion of Blood formed.
Their goal: simple.
"Dissolve the senate. No matter what—that's the endgame."
Their creed:
"By upholding His Majesty's true will, open the blind eyes of the ignorant masses."
Meanwhile, the emperor himself wailed in agony all week: "The emperor is not a slave to paperwork!"—a fact no one knew.