Chapter 97
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: A Sulking Alpha is Hard to Coax
The Emperor proved to Celia with his actions: a sulking Alpha is damn hard to coax.
That very night, the Emperor left clean and decisive, without the slightest hint of playing hard to get in hopes that Celia would chase after him. The second he stepped out the door, he summoned his Bi'an and rocketed away at lightspeed. By the time Celia stuck his head out the window, he hadn't even had a chance to form the words for damage control—he only caught sight of the massive tail smoke from the ascending shuttle.
The next day, the Emperor showed up at the delegation. Facing the peace treaty that the Alliance delegation had poured their blood, sweat, and tears into, revising it over and over, he said just one thing:
"I reject it."
—Reject it? You just beat the crap out of the Alliance delegation yesterday, you're still in the wrong, and you dare reject it?!
Karyan rolled up his sleeve, about to flash the injuries from yesterday's beating, when the Emperor shot him a glare and scoffed, "Trivial matters. What of it?"
Karyan was just about to retort that General Mo's ear was still split open, and the Dark Star legions were still advancing on Empire territory—what about that being trivial?—but then he caught the Emperor's icy, indifferent gaze, like a wounded snow wolf, or like eyes hiding a thousand unspoken words, looking his way with profound meaning.
Karyan froze on the spot.
This was an accusation, right? It had to be! What did I even do to you to deserve that look?
Just then, Celia cleared his throat—having slept in the arena lounge yesterday, he hadn't gone back to change into his uniform. He was still in last night's casual black jacket and white shirt, with the top two buttons of his collar undone, revealing his long neck and the deep hollow of his collarbone. This half-relaxed style made him look strikingly handsome and refined, but it was rare on Celia, who was always in uniform. It seemed like he wasn't taking today's negotiations very seriously to begin with.
Sure enough, after clearing his throat and drawing everyone's attention, he said lightly, "Let's call it here for today."
…What?!
The Empire and Alliance were stunned in unison. Then the Emperor stood up stone-faced and strode out.
The first negotiation in the history of the Empire and Alliance lasted a grand total of ten minutes on its first day.
As the meeting broke up, General Aaron bowed to Celia in respect. Celia nodded back in return. Aaron then turned and caught up to the Emperor, hooking an arm around his neck in what looked like brotherly camaraderie but was actually vicious: "What happened?"
Heinrich's body tilted, then he marched forward at a brisk pace, not even glancing back.
Seeing this, Aaron was even more baffled and whispered, "You know dragging out the talks only puts us at a disadvantage, right? The Dark Star forces were brought in by the Alliance—they're probably hoping Eunes pushes right up to the White Heron Star Gate so they can lionize their demands from us—Marshal Celia is definitely playing the momentum today. Who knows if he'll drag it out tomorrow too. If that happens…"
"Cede the star lanes, territory, and tribute. If you love negotiating those terms, go ahead," Heinrich said coldly.
"Negotiations are all about asking for the stars and settling for the moon—that's what makes it negotiations," Aaron dismissed with a wave, then a lightbulb went off in his head: "—Besides, you can dip into your private reserves. Call it a betrothal gift! Alliance rumors say you've already marked the Marshal. Once marked, he should conceive soon, right? Even if the first heat misses, the next one won't be more than a year away. If you wrap up the Alliance in that year, by this time next year, the little crown prince will…"
By the end, Aaron was a bit sour about it, but he didn't know his words had struck the Emperor's heart like an arrow. Heinrich's face changed in an instant: "No!"
"…What?"
Heinrich shook off his hand, rubbed his neck irritably, then shook his head: "Not that right now—I had reasons for not talking to them today. The Alliance's leverage is the Dark Star forces' ongoing push into Empire space, but if we halt the enemy momentum on the battlefield, the Alliance becomes irrelevant to us. Hell, Celia, Karyan, and the rest could even become hostages in our hands… Right now, they need time as much as we do. In the end, that battlefield a million light-years away is what really controls the negotiating table."
Aaron eyed the Emperor suspiciously for a long moment, then asked: "…You two fought?"
The Emperor: "…"
How the hell did you get that from what I just said, General Aaron?!
The corridor outside the negotiation hall was built from massive white cloud-patterned stones, each slab several meters long and wide. The hallway was broad enough to race horses down. The pillars on either side were carved with intricate honeysuckle and wisteria, stretching up to the distant, vaulted ceiling. A breeze from the distant lawn carried a faint rustling sound.
The scenery was poetic and picturesque. The Emperor and general stared at each other for a long time. Just as Aaron was racking his brain with melodramatic fight scenarios, the Emperor suddenly asked gravely: "How much… savings do you have?"
Aaron: "………………"
What does that have to do with your fight? Why is my top boss suddenly asking this? Did they find the little slush fund the military's been hoarding? Did they discover the year-end barbecue on the government's dime? Did they find out we smuggled leftover energy packs home to save on electricity—?!
In that moment, Aaron's mind flashed through countless terrifying possibilities. But in an instant, he calmed down and said steadily: "Not much. When's that injury subsidy from the Dark Star Hall raid coming through?"
The Emperor gave him a long, silent look.
That look was loaded—with "In your dreams, you're built like an ox and you want injury pay?" and "Heh, keep bullshitting, like I didn't check with Internal Affairs!"—but also deep resentment, subtle envy, and a glint of scheming calculation…
Aaron shuddered back half a step, waving his hands: "I-I'm not married, got a family to start later—places to spend money. What are you getting at?!"
"Celia…" Heinrich said slowly, "has more savings than both of us."
Aaron's mouth twitched violently in disbelief: "No way!"
"He eats and lives on base. Five hundred years of marshal pay untouched. Plus the Alliance's pension with 9.25% annual increases and full social security—do the math on his retirement. And Karyan, Mo, and their crew all bunk at officer bases. They can expense a damn popsicle. Centuries of pay with nowhere to spend it."
The Emperor's lips curved in an icy smile. In that moment, his gaze was as sharp and sinister as a blade: "Meanwhile, you and I pour our fortunes into every war. We've only been on salary for fifty years, and the Senate keeps slashing our budgets. Talk about starting a family? We might not even scrape together milk money someday…"
"All those Alliance generals who've been at it for centuries are loaded," the Emperor summed up. "We can't give in to their money demands. If anyone's paying, you do it."
The Emperor turned and strode away firmly, leaving General Aaron standing alone in the wind, utterly wrecked.
·
Just as Aaron predicted, Celia skipped the talks again the next day.
The Alliance delegation was never short on excuses now: Celia was unwell one day—altitude sickness, couldn't eat. Next, insomnia left him drained. The day after, dizzy spells kept him bedridden. The Imperial military was tense at first, but soon realized the excuses were so blatant they rang false—yet no one complained. Everyone knew the score and quietly waited for frontline news.
The wait didn't last long. A week later, an urgent dispatch arrived from the local garrison in Ursa Major:
Dark Star fleet striking like ghosts, unstoppable. They've forced through Star Gate 65346, heading into Gemini.
The news came as a top-secret report late that night. The next morning, as negotiations began, the moment Heinrich stepped into the hall, he saw Celia at the far end of the long table in full uniform. His long legs, sheathed in white military pants, were crossed. Elbows on the table edge, fingers loosely interlaced in front of him.
He looked steady yet leisurely. As the Emperor entered, he idly examined his thumb without lifting his head: "Morning, Heinrich."
The military officials behind the Emperor bowed cautiously in greeting. But Heinrich himself chuckled as if amused: "Feeling better, Celia?"
"Touch wood."
Celia looked up. His cheeks were indeed a bit gaunt, his complexion pale, but he seemed more spirited. The Emperor loomed over him, scrutinizing closely, then nodded in satisfaction and pulled out a chair: "You're here to accept my revisions from yesterday, right? No need to go to the trouble. If you want to sign, just say the word—I'll deliver them personally."
"Pfft—" Karyan didn't look up from his documents, sneering: "Hand over command to the Empire while footing your own military bill? Even if you begged on your knees, we'd think about it…"
General Aaron was about to fire back when Heinrich cut in with a smile: "What's wrong? I think it's plenty reasonable. The Radiant Legion can't match the Empire's Nine Great Fleets. Once battle starts, the Alliance side would have to follow Imperial command and deployment anyway—nothing unreasonable there. As for costs, striking Dark Star Hall benefits the Alliance too. You covering your own expenses is only natural, no?"
Karyan scoffed: "It's your Empire losing territory. What’s that got to do with us?"
"Dark Star Hall won't rampage on Empire soil forever," General Aaron said gravely. "In fact, they've been successfully intercepted outside Star Gate 65346. Local Ursa Major forces are mounting a counterattack. Soon we'll—"
"Soon Eunes will be at your doorstep," Karyan drawled lazily. His light brain projected a scaled battlefield star map. The red dots for enemy forces had punched through Ursa Major, blinking steadily toward the golden Gemini cluster—the Empire's top-secret report from last night: "I think this is the real situation, General Aaron. If you call that a successful intercept, either you're insulting my intelligence, or yours is covered in shit."
—Report leak!
Aaron froze in place. Seconds later, he scrambled to recover, but Karyan cut him off coldly:
"Facts prove the Empire can't resist Dark Star Hall—we see that clearly. Since you need us, I demand more tangible gains for the Alliance, on top of the cooperation premise."
He slapped a contract down: "Specific terms are in here. Your Majesty, take a look—and if you want to sign, just say so. I won't mind sending it over."
The Imperials' faces varied—outrage for Aaron. In that moment, everyone mentally cursed Karyan's ancestors back eighteen generations.
But Heinrich's expression didn't change. He smiled, picked up the revision, flipped two pages, and tossed it in the trash by his feet.
"No wonder you're here today. Found your leverage."
Celia didn't look up, his tone flat and unchanged: "Touch wood."
Since entering the hall, he'd said just three things—two simple: Touch wood. But the Emperor had no doubt he was the mastermind, especially the report leak—no one else could've pulled it off undetected.
Yet the Emperor showed no anxiety. He even quirked a smile: "You think I'd watch you waltz in here unprepared?"
Celia's pupils contracted slightly. Then the hall doors opened. General Mo hurried in, leaned to whisper in his ear—
"The Konsetlin family launched a coup, allied with military police and media outlets, exposing Marshal Celia's military dictatorship to the public. They've issued a declaration to the people across the Alliance," Heinrich announced loudly for him. Amid the hall's uproar, he smirked faintly: "—Think you're the only one who plays burn-under-the-pot, Celia? Even if you don't fear godlike foes in the Empire, you've got plenty of pig-like ones in the Alliance…"