Chapter 101
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 101
Chapter Title: The Marshal's Call
Although Celia had said he would recruit from the Milky Way Galaxy—and the implication was quite clear—the Emperor didn't take it too seriously.
He was no longer the novice emperor from fifty years ago, freshly ascended to the throne, trembling with trepidation, anxiously monitoring every stir in the nearby free star systems and autonomous territories, bristling like a lion with its mane standing on end at the slightest breeze. Fifty years of hyper-vigilant and disciplined rule had forged him to a great degree, transforming him into a man with razor-sharp political instincts, clear and precise thinking, and unshakable confidence in any situation.
Thus, when Karyan prepared to deliver a galaxy-wide public address from the New Kremlin Palace, the Emperor neither obstructed nor sabotaged it, merely instructing Military Intelligence to conduct routine surveillance from the shadows. Even on the day of the speech itself, he showed no desire to attend in person, simply discussing military matters large and small in the study with the Empire's generals as usual.
Only after wrapping up the day's routine business did the Emperor glance at the wall clock and close the file before him:
"The speech in Red Swan Hall should have started by now, right?"
Isaac glanced at Aaron, saw no reaction from him, and said:
"It should be wrapping up soon."
The Emperor nodded, finally showing a spark of interest as he summoned Bi'an:
"Patch in the broadcast feed. Let's catch the end."
This public address reached the entire Milky Way Galaxy, where signal delays varied by distance between star systems. But since it was transmitted via the Imperial Palace's communication channels, tapping directly into the source allowed real-time reception.
A three-dimensional hologram unfurled across the spacious study. Under the Empire's collective gaze, Karyan stood in a crisp white military uniform. This usually defiant, lazy, and slippery major general now wore an exceptionally solemn expression, his dark eyes fixed resolutely on the empty space ahead—in countless corners of the vast Milky Way, trillions of people huddled at home, in vehicles, in squares... heads raised, listening intently to his words:
"The nation will shatter into pieces, social order will crumble to dust, your peaceful lives and cozy homes ravaged by the invading forces from distant stars..."
"This is a battle that is surely coming. The Alliance Radiant Legion always welcomes new blood—each of our small strengths will converge, forging an iron wall to repel the invaders and safeguard the nation..."
"The hour of the final showdown is upon us. Take up your weapons and fight the enemies from beyond our galaxy—this is not merely defending the nation, but defending your very own lives! Before the common foe of the entire Milky Way, we stand as an invincible whole!..."
Karyan bowed his head, propping his forehead with one hand. A few seconds later, as he drew a breath and lifted his head again, Celia's figure suddenly appeared on screen from behind, clapping a hand on his shoulder:
"Thank you, Anatoli. I'll take it from here."
·
Karyan flashed a momentary flicker of surprise but promptly yielded, stepping back a few paces in compliance.
Celia moved smoothly forward, taking center stage before the camera.
He wore a silver-white formal uniform bearing his rank insignia, a thumbnail-sized eagle-and-scroll badge gleaming on the upright collar of his shirt—that was the Alliance national emblem, permitted only to the rarest active-duty officers of supreme honor. A silver tassel ribbon cascaded from his chest to his tall, lean waist, his long legs sheathed in straight trousers. He stood like a blade freshly drawn from its scabbard at the heart of the wide lens, eyes calmly fixed ahead.
Heinrich's heart stirred, an ineffable sensation welling up from the depths within.
It was less a uniform than a dress uniform. The Empire had similar styles, though more intricate and ornate in their embellishments. On major occasions each year, the Emperor appeared before the people in such lavish and solemn finery, routinely showered with effusive media praise.
Yet now, beholding Celia through the lens, he instantly felt the man's singular soldierly essence—resolute, austere, unyielding, composed... A pure masculine aura of authority radiated from his lean frame, from his very bones, utterly undiminished by his shift in gender.
In this instant, his three-dimensional image filled the viewscreens of trillions across the cosmos, profound gaze, tightly pursed lips, even the texture of every hair strand in sharp clarity. When he spoke, the photonic transmission made his voice thunder as if directly in their ears:
"I am Gavin Celia, Commander of the Alliance Legion. If you're a former Radiant Legion soldier tuning in, you've surely heard my name."
A stir rippled through the Imperial study; Heinrich's breath caught for a split second.
Even after years of defection, that familiar shiver still raced through his marrow like an electric current.
"When the Alliance collapsed, countless among you laid down your arms and surrendered to the Empire, becoming drifters on the Imperial frontiers or free planets. You've likely lost all faith in the Alliance regime—even penniless and adrift, piloting ships through the endless void, you refuse to return to the Radiant Legion remnants in the Andromeda Galaxy."
"I understand you. You fought to the bitter end, discharging every warrior's duty in full—yet we still failed."
"We were forced to abandon Blue Tide Star, Gemini, and vast swaths of Alliance territory, retreating to a remote corner beyond the Milky Way, a people without land or home. But such rootless wandering can't endure forever. Today we face war once more, and unlike before, failure this time means losing our lives."
Celia paused, closing his eyes, reopening them seconds later:
"Billions of light-years stretch before us, but the Alliance people have no space left to survive. Our wealth plundered, our freedom stolen, our faith and dignity trampled to ruins. We've endured fifty years of humiliation and agony—and now, every life hangs on the brink of merciless destruction!"
"All former Radiant Legion soldiers, all Alliance citizens scattered across the stars—I ask you to come back, to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with your old comrades in arms!"
"Whether you're Imperial citizens now or wanderers on free planets, if you once served in the Radiant Legion, if you once shed its blood—that blood will never grow cold!"
...
—Celia's voice was not loud, but its soul-shaking power struck deep and lingered in every heart.
Dead silence blanketed the study; no one spoke, no one stirred, the scene frozen like a soundless, weighty tableau. Yet Heinrich knew full well: the instant his final words landed, countless souls across the cosmos had dropped everything, rising as one in fervent cheers!
Celia knew it too. This time, he held the camera's gaze in long silence before slowly asking:
"I have returned. Where are my warriors?"
·
Heinrich shot to his feet, severing the hologram.
The vast study resembled a silent black-and-white pantomime. After a protracted, heart-stopping hush, the Emperor's low voice finally broke through:
"He aims to召回 the eight million troops disbanded from the Radiant Legion when the Alliance fell."
Major General Isaac blurted in astonishment:
"Impossible? It's been fifty years! Most of them are Imperial citizens now!"
Several generals in the study exchanged nods of agreement, but more shook their heads gravely. Admiral Aaron drew a slow breath:
"It's possible—if the call comes from Marshal Celia... Especially since the Alliance Parliament just dropped their 'military dictatorship' charges against him. It's like sending those men a signal—"
"A signal that Celia now holds the reins," Heinrich said coolly. "Every boon has its bane. That accusation no doubt eroded Celia's stature as a spiritual leader—but for the old Alliance soldiers, it's assurance their lives are safe in his hands once more."
Isaac lurched to his feet in disbelief:
"But... but he just comes out and says it? Boldly poaching Imperial talent right on Empire soil?! Urging our citizens to defect and enlist with the Alliance?! This is—"
Utterly shameless.
Admiral Aaron finished the thought silently in his mind.
No wonder Isaac could scarcely credit it. If Heinrich had done it, no surprise at all—but Celia? Negotiating peace with the Empire while brazenly digging at its foundations in plain view of all—who could've imagined the perpetrator wasn't Heinrich, but Celia?!
Isaac opened his mouth to say more, cut short by Heinrich's sudden move. The Emperor rose and strode through the assembled men, straight out the study door and down the stairs.
"Your Majesty—"
"The speech is over," Admiral Aaron stood, his expression darkening slightly. "To the broadcast hall."
·
Imperial Palace, Red Swan Hall—photonic signals blanketing the Milky Way converged in this opulent broadcast chamber.
The Emperor seldom visited this frontier outpost of a palace, but his rare prior stays had all made use of the hall to issue decrees to the capital on White Heron Star. When granting use of this hall laden with political weight, Heinrich surely hadn't foreseen Celia landing such a blow.
It exceeded all expectations.
The Emperor hurried down the hall's lavish outer corridor. At the far end, doors stood open; staff bustled about stowing gear and froze mid-step at his approach, bowing deeply.
But the Emperor had no time for courtesies. He rounded the corner at speed and spotted from afar Alliance diplomats clustered at the entrance, then officers emerging from within—Celia's silver-white uniformed figure glaringly conspicuous—
The Emperor moved to intercept, but his pupils narrowed like drawn blades: Celia was being steadied by Karyan!
Celia's head hung low, steps heavy with exhaustion, one hand cradling his forehead, bangs veiling his face. Heinrich shoved forward through the throng. The diplomats whirled, startled at the sight of him, but before a word could escape, the Emperor reached the officers:
"—What happened?"
A keen ear might catch the strain in his voice—instinctively masked, yet a faint irregularity lingered in the trailing tone.
"It's nothing, just low blood sugar," Karyan said offhandedly. "Stayed up too late prepping the speech yesterday. Feeling dizzy myself today."
He made a show of rubbing his temple, guiding Celia onward. But in the instant they brushed past the Emperor, Celia lurched his head aside uncontrollably, clamping a hand to his mouth as he wretched violently!