Chapter 103
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 103
Chapter Title: Midnight Encounter
That very night, deep into the midnight hours, at the Empire's state guesthouse in the imperial retreat palace.
The emperor, clad in black, strode across the vast open plaza in front of the building, flanked by dozens of guards.
These men wore military uniforms without insignia, their faces tense, steps hurried yet perfectly synchronized. Despite their numbers, they moved without a sound—like beasts slipping swiftly through the night.
When they reached the grand crystal-metal doors at the base of the building, the emperor halted and gave a signal with his eyes. One of his aides immediately stepped forward and swiped his ID card in the password slot.
"Major Arnold of Military Intelligence," the system announced in a pleasant electronic female voice. "State your reason for entering this Class-One state guest restricted area?"
"Routine security inspection. My mission approval code is FUDWE03476, verified by Major General Isaac's of Military Intelligence's authorization."
The system duly logged the information, then inquired: "Accompanying personnel?"
"Forty-seven in total."
This data was automatically relayed to the building's security hub, cross-referenced against millions of commands in the database. It matched, and a green clearance marker appeared on the central control room's main screen.
A flawless, secure system log—nothing amiss even under later scrutiny.
"Please proceed, Major Arnold." The doors slid open slowly, the gleaming crystal instantly reflecting the shadowy figures in the night.
Major Arnold stepped back half a pace. As the emperor moved to advance—
A mocking laugh rang out from not far behind.
"Your Majesty, have you lost your ID card? Do you really need to borrow one of your subordinate's just to get through?"
Heinrich whipped around. There, on the nearby lawn, stood their target—Celia!
Celia, in casual clothes, leaned against a tree with arms folded, looking utterly relaxed. Beside him were several Alliance generals and diplomats, including Mowen and Abel—and, shockingly, two Imperial diplomats!
The two hadn't expected to run into the emperor here; their faces flushed with embarrassment. After a long pause, they stammered, "Your Majesty..."
Heinrich's expression twisted into something inscrutable. A moment later, he turned and approached, ignoring Celia to address the Imperial diplomats first: "What are you doing here?"
They exchanged a quick glance. Though well-trained professionals, the flicker of panic in their eyes couldn't escape the emperor's notice. Sure enough, they bowed awkwardly, one murmuring, "Y-Your Majesty, the Alliance delegation informed us that Marshal Celia and his group wished to take a nighttime stroll near the inner palace. They asked us to accompany them..."
For a state guest of Celia's stature, anything was fair game—even demanding dragon liver or phoenix marrow. The Imperial Foreign Ministry would serve him with utmost courtesy. A spontaneous night stroll was trivial by comparison. Even if it had been General Mowen instead, a word from the Alliance delegation would have the Foreign Ministry dispatching escorts without question—perfectly reasonable.
Yet—Heinrich knew the Foreign Ministry's little games all too well. If they truly wanted to beg off, they could muster a thousand excuses.
It was already late, past midnight, in a restricted inner palace zone. With the slightest intent, they could reply, "We've reported upward for approval; please wait, Marshal." Even if dragged out the next day, what of it? Celia wasn't one to make trouble, and even if he were petty, he couldn't fault them for following protocol.
But at the Alliance's word, these two had come running obediently!
—Because the Alliance delegation had greased the wheels!
Who'd willingly take on such an ungrateful task in the dead of night without some underhanded incentive?!
The emperor's gaze darkened imperceptibly. Though he'd mobilized Military Intelligence in force tonight, Celia's status precluded any overt coercion from the Empire...
And now, with these two Imperial diplomats watching wide-eyed, whatever scheme he had was impossible!
"Your Majesty—" the speaking diplomat ventured timidly.
Heinrich's expression shifted, but before he could reply, Celia grinned and interjected: "The Imperial Foreign Ministry's service is most attentive. On behalf of the Alliance delegation, I offer our sincerest thanks. You wouldn't hold it against them, would you, Your Majesty?"
The emperor couldn't reprimand them anyway, but Celia's framing left him no choice but to reply curtly: "Not at all."
The scene had grown profoundly awkward. Over forty Military Intelligence operatives stood frozen behind the emperor, neither advancing nor retreating. Celia, for his part, refused to ask what they were doing here. His face was the picture of solemnity, but his eyes gleamed with undisguised mockery. Heinrich met his gaze with gritted teeth for a moment until General Mowen finally coughed, unable to watch any longer:
"Since Your Majesty has business at the state guesthouse, we won't impose. Gentlemen diplomats, could you escort us a bit farther that way?"
—What a stand-up guy General Mowen was. At his words, the forty-plus men behind the emperor collectively exhaled in relief!
The diplomats naturally agreed eagerly, desperate to flee this powder keg. But as Celia turned to follow the group—
The emperor's eyes narrowed slightly. He stepped forward and seized Celia's hand: "Marshal—"
Celia glanced down.
Heinrich's gaze flickered, a flawless smile surfacing: "I've known you for a century, yet we've never strolled the night together. Since fate has brought us here, why not walk a while?"
His tone brooked no refusal. He waved a hand backward—though the words were for his men, his eyes remained fixed on Celia's face:
"You're all dismissed. I wish to... chat with the marshal."
·
The retreat palace's night was beautiful.
Glorious lights spilled across the paths, clusters of moonflowers glowing brilliantly. Winter palace decorations abounded: ice-and-snow branches and blooms vied for attention along the roadsides, silver bells dangling from diamond fruit trees, tinkling pleasantly in the night breeze.
Celia walked at the group's forefront, Heinrich at his side. Both gazed ahead at the scintillating ice under the lights. For a time, neither spoke, only the soft rustle of footsteps from behind.
"Have we truly never walked a road together at night?" Celia asked suddenly.
"We have. But not together."
Celia turned his head slightly. Heinrich smiled faintly and said: "You were always surrounded by crowds. The rare times it was just me, I was following you—not accompanying... I quite like that word, 'accompanying.'"
He looked back at Celia. Their eyes met for a moment before Celia asked: "So that's why you always gloat after setting some new trouble in my path?"
Heinrich froze!
"You can't face the fact that you've become the stronger one," Celia said softly, cutting off the emperor's instinctive rebuttal on the verge of spilling out. "In your eyes, I'm untouchable—so you contrive ways to prove you can bedevil me, convincing yourself: I'm not the same as before. Now I don't trail in Celia's shadow; I can trip him up instead."
"Some of those trips are unnecessary, and they've certainly troubled me," Celia admitted. "But that's not what bothers me most."
Heinrich, caught off guard by Celia's unexpected candor, soon regained his composure. "In your eyes, I'm the stronger one?"
"Yes."
"Then what bothers you most is—"
"You unsettle me," Celia said. "You... once shook my faith."
He stopped, facing Heinrich directly. The others had fallen far behind. On the snow-draped path, only they remained, the distant palace lights mirrored in each other's eyes, crystalline as the starry vault overhead.
"I shook your faith in the Alliance?" Heinrich whispered, incredulous.
Beneath his stunned gaze, Celia nodded gravely.
"Yes. The Alliance's contradictions had become irreconcilable, while the Empire thrived—none of the societal conflicts or systemic flaws I'd foreseen materialized. Public safety and prosperity surpassed the Alliance's, economic growth even faster. So as I led Alliance legions chasing Imperial forces in rout, I asked myself: Are they the righteous ones? Am I the side history dooms to obsolescence?"
"Ultimately, I upheld democracy's justice and continuity. But for a time, you shook my entire belief system to its core. The root cause? You grew powerful in a way I couldn't endorse—beyond my imaginings, strong enough to inspire a trace of fear in me."
Celia raised a hand, lightly patting the emperor's handsome cheek.
The emperor seized it in turn.
"I have only one piece of advice..." Celia leaned close to his ear, his warm breath grazing the lobe: "A true powerhouse doesn't change their inner convictions with shifting status. So even without the tripping, you're stronger than me now."
He pulled free and stepped back, gazing steadily at the emperor from the snow.
Heinrich stared back for a long moment, complex emotions flooding his heart like scalding water, singeing the softest corners until they quivered faintly. At last he spoke, voice taut from forced calm: "You just want the Empire to back off, stop meddling in the Alliance's recruitment surge, right?"
Celia shrugged.
In that instant, Heinrich felt an urge to demand every answer. But by the light reflecting from behind, he caught the undisguised weariness at the corner of Celia's eye.
Dark circles shadowed them faintly; his profile was sharper, more gaunt; his complexion nearly translucent pale. Backlit earlier, the details had been hard to discern—and expertly concealed besides. Even now, under the lights, it was merely a slip from perfect camouflage.
The emperor keenly seized that fleeting exhaustion. But before he could scrutinize—
Celia turned away with a casual smile: "Mowen!"
General Mowen and the others had caught up. Celia strode toward them. His trace of haggardness now fully shrouded by night; no one from the Alliance noticed. Beneath his shirt, his waist was strikingly slender, yet he stood ramrod straight.
Heinrich remained rooted.
He should have felt triumphant—the Alliance cornered to desperation, even Marshal Celia on the back foot, reduced to schemes and ruses.
Yet for some reason, seeing Celia pull an all-nighter, bribing Imperial diplomats, dragging his people on aimless wanders to fend off sleep—stirred an ineffable pain and rage within him—
Not resentment at Celia's cunning machinations. Rage at himself.
Rage at this self who held the upper hand, pressed relentlessly, yet dared not reveal even a sliver of affection.