Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 932 - 931: Initiative

The parliament hall of Aldernon boasts a magnificent triple spire. The largest spire, situated at the building’s top, symbolizes royal authority sheltering and guiding the entire Empire. The second spire represents the nobles beneath royal authority, also known as the "pillar of the Empire," while the lowest layer, with the broadest area, directly covers the parliament hall. Nominally, it symbolizes the Empire’s glorious citizens, the "foundation of the Empire."

This bold, pioneering symbol reflects a fragment of Emperor Rosetta Augustus’s reforms over decades. Although practically, the "citizen councilors" under these triple spires amount to less than half the number of noble councilors, and those wielding real influence are few, making it so people automatically refer to the upper, old "Noble Congress" when discussing Aldernon’s parliament, often overlooking the other part of parliament.

Emperor Rosetta Augustus has been striving to change this situation, and indeed, it has significantly changed in the past two years.

The booming machines and overnight emerging large companies quickly provided citizen councilors with capital to speak in parliament—more strictly speaking, it is the merchant representatives who gained capital for speaking in parliament.

Matilda realized for the first time that some forces were more effective than royal edicts and guidance.

She sat in the golden high-backed chair symbolizing the royal family, looking expressionless down at the rectangular hall below. The magic crystal lamps illuminated this place from the ceiling, making the faces here look clear and lively. Those holding the most power below the royal authority in Typhon’s social structure were there expressing their views freely, fiercely discussing a plan that might change the entire era. Those qualified to speak upfront exerted their persuasion and charisma to gain more support from ordinary councilors and more importantly—Princess Matilda’s expression representing the royal will.

In Typhon’s unique parliament system, royal will holds significantly weight, unless a consensus among councilors presents an overwhelming agreement, people must strive to gain the royal spokesperson’s support.

"I still oppose such radical reform and restructuring plans—while I acknowledge the advantages of new technology and always embrace the beautiful future it brings, we must also recognize the existing Transmission Tower Network’s scale and the associated cost and benefit issues," said a middle-aged noble, dressed in a dark blue coat and voice like a bell, standing up and turning to the councilors behind him, "Rebuilding the entire communication network means our investments over decades becoming a fantasy, and whether the newly built network can operate stably is still uncertain..."

"This isn’t merely a cost-benefit issue, Earl sir; it’s also a technical issue," said someone else standing up, "Don’t you realize the limitations of Transmission Towers? Their technical foundation is outdated. Given the premise of magic web communication, continuing to invest and construct Transmission Towers actually becomes a waste, a waste of the Empire’s wealth..."

"What about those maintaining the Transmission Towers? What about those who rely on Transmission Towers for a living? We cannot solve problems using solely merchant’s thinking—we also have the responsibility to maintain people’s livelihoods!"

"This responsibility mostly reflects on those seventeen Transmission Towers you enjoy profit from, doesn’t it?"

"Please do not bring personal issues to such a solemn occasion; if self-interest is introduced here, then everyone will lose their right to speak, sir!"

The argument below intensified, but the seemingly emotion-driven speakers maintained order appropriately, expressing their views according to parliament’s procedure, not transgressing or disturbing royal authority. Matilda just sat quietly in her chair, watching all this expressionlessly.

Before this segment ends, they will probably argue for quite a while.

They already argued for quite a while yesterday.

In Matilda’s eyes, this seemingly chaotic situation is actually very clear. She could see those established nobles had long reached an agreement, yet, the minor nobles once standing in the same noble camp now vaguely sided with merchants—in the previous years, such unity would’ve been unimaginable, but since last year, similar situations have occurred more than once.

The reason is simple; factories and emerging companies are accumulating increasing wealth, occupying larger influence, and minor nobles along with middle-tier nobles’ "new faction" are major investors in these industries; they’ve long been intertwined with merchants’ interests. In contrast, the upper-tier nobles still control massive traditional industries and wealth and command a lot of infrastructure, making them a formidable force despite a slower reaction to the new investment boom.

The two forces have progressively divided and settled into their territories; each member keeps an eye on the other’s every move, guarding their pockets, unwilling to let a single copper coin fall to the opposite side.

The allocation of interests is more real than any standing.

Since last year, the friction between the two forces has gradually increased, but because they occupy fields with little overlap, the intensity of this friction has been low until recently, when new technologies suddenly broke existing "rules," giving merchant and noble investors a chance to touch those infrastructures, evoking an intense response from those infrastructures’ old owners...

Matilda almost wanted to yawn but held back.

Today’s argument wouldn’t yield results, but she already foresaw the outcome in a few days: a compromise plan will emerge, keeping the traditional Transmission Towers. Those facilities with high maintenance costs will be transformed, becoming carriers of new technology, providing merchant and noble investors a shareholding opportunity. However, overall control of the communication network would still firmly remain in the hands of the established families and the Royal Mage Association.

Matilda could even ascertain that those shareholding opportunities during the Transmission Tower remodeling project would be voluntarily released by established families and the Royal Mage Association—it seems to distribute the communication network’s profit yet can easily cause emerging interest groups, currently maintaining weak relations, to gain compromising members. They will abandon radical plans to completely rebuild a communication network, exchanging it for more stable, secure profits, which is precisely what the Royal Mage Association and the large aristocrats supporting the Association would happily see.

After all, the Royal Mage Association isn’t foolish, nor are those large aristocrats; of course, they see tremendous benefits in an all-new communication network—they just don’t want others to control it first.

...

The gravity of the situation exceeded Duke Ferdinand’s expectations; such unprecedented crisis made even the battle-hardened old duke frown tightly.

"This is the situation, my old friend," Emperor Rosetta Augustus sat in the high-backed chair, calmly observing the duke opposite him, "Just as I told you before, gods are not entirely reliable protectors—a transcendent, powerful, unknown existence wholly surpassing mortals. Whether or not they have continuously sheltered mortals, I have always harbored caution towards them."

"...I never understood your concerns about the gods, but now I must admit you were right," Duke Ferdinand Wendell said solemnly, "I just never thought we would face these in our lifetime..."

He paused, frowning again: "Regarding the intelligence disclosed in Gawain Cecil’s letter, should it be further verified? I still find it hard to believe...that Cecil’s ruler would so openly and kindly remind us."

"He is a formidable opponent, but in this matter, he is our friend," Emperor Rosetta shook his head, "In the book Matilda brought, Gawain Cecil mentioned several times that mortal fate must advance and retreat together before nature and divine power; at first, I considered it propaganda posturing and slogans, but now I am willing to believe his sincerity in this regard."

"...We all live on this land," Duke Ferdinand’s voice was low.

"Yes, we all live on this land," Rosetta said calmly, "so I called you here today to prepare for the disaster that might happen on this land."

"... Can we really handle the threat from the gods?" Duke Ferdinand couldn’t help but doubt, "Of course, the Cecil Clan seems to have successfully resisted the ’God Disaster,’ but what they faced were not true gods, and luck played a large part..."

"What we are facing is also not true gods," Rosetta shook his head, "or rather, I don’t believe gods would directly ’attack’ the mortal world."

"Gods won’t directly ’attack’ the mortal world..." Duke Ferdinand instinctively repeated, his expression appearing somewhat puzzled.

"Gods need a ’medium,’ it’s not so easy for them to descend, is it?"

Duke Ferdinand frowned, looking at the monarch he had sworn allegiance to for decades. For some reason, he suddenly saw a hint of unfamiliarity on the other’s face: "You mean..."

Rosetta remained silent for a few seconds and suddenly said something seemingly unrelated: "You know, I’ve started envying our neighbors a bit lately..."

...

After Duke Ferdinand left, Rosetta still sat quietly in the study, leaning against the chair’s high back that could completely hide a person, seemingly lost in deep thought. Only after several minutes of silence and stillness did he suddenly raise his hand and use a small magic power technique to turn off the lights in the study.

The night outside had long fallen, only starlight shone on the towers of the Obsidian Palace. With the lights in the study extinguished, darkness quickly spread, while starlight also poured through the crystal windows and spread throughout the study.

Everything in the study was immersed in the indifferent night.

Rosetta gently tapped the armrests of the chair, patiently waiting for something amidst the rhythmic knocking.

After several dozen taps, a faint yellow light abruptly appeared on the study’s desk. Then this faint glow rapidly spread, quickly covering the desk, shelves, floor, walls... Within seconds, the entire study was illuminated by the yellow light, which also filled the nearby window, outlining the distant scene of Orlandeau from two hundred years ago.

Dusk suddenly descended.

Rosetta raised his head, the familiar objects in the study rapidly changed forms, certain ancient, corrupt illusions that had long disappeared in history covering the familiar furnishings. Whispering and unknown laughter from unknown origins echoed from all around, as if a banquet was being held next door, the laughter of guests transmitted through the walls and some balcony, even as if some guests had walked through the wall into the room, whispering secrets next to Rosetta’s ears.

Rosetta entirely ignored these illusory sounds, merely calmly watching the direction of the door. In the next moment, the laughter and whispers suddenly vanished.

Outside the tightly closed study door, towards the corridor, the sound of dragging heavy weights, staggering footsteps suddenly sounded after the disappearance of whispers, and seemed to inch closer to here.

In the next moment, knocking sounds came from the direction of the study door.

Rosetta did not respond, so the knocking sound persistently continued with patience.

It knocked for a long time, so long that time seemed to still in this eternal dusk until Rosetta broke the silence: "You can keep knocking, or do you expect to destroy this door by knocking it down?"

The knocking sound suddenly stopped. After a few seconds of dead silence, a deep voice, seemingly a blend of numerous voices, came from outside the door: "Your mental strength is really astonishing... I thought countless times that you were about to collapse, yet you remain yourself..."

"Astonishing?" Rosetta shook his head, "But you are not human."

"That’s a meaningless detail," said the voice outside the door, "I dislike details, so let’s talk about the main point... why did you voluntarily enter this dreamscape? It’s quite a rare occurrence."

"I’ve suddenly become curious about certain things, but I couldn’t find the answers in the mortal world—perhaps you’d be willing to say something?"

As soon as his voice fell, an unusual atmosphere filled the entire dreamscape. That atmosphere seemed to mix surprise and joy, while countless probing gazes from all directions came, as if from the depths of the dreamscape, in those ancient corridors of memories, halls, and courtyards, the gazes of countless ’guests’ were also instantly drawn here, coldly watching the direction of Rosetta Augustus.

In the study before Rosetta, the wall that originally hung ordinary decorative oil paintings suddenly rippled like a water surface, the decorative painting swallowed by the wall, then spat out again, but the image had already changed to Majori Augustus.

"Ah, my dear son, you’ve finally decided to return to our family?"

Soon Majori turned into George Augustus: "It’s truly a day worthy of celebration!"

"You’re celebrating a bit early," Rosetta coldly glanced at the oil painting, "Stay quiet on the side."

The figures in the oil painting swayed back and forth and suddenly blurred. Yet the deep, overlapping voice outside the study door chuckled: "Full of confidence, yet seeking knowledge from the gods is not so simple... But regardless, I am quite willing.

"Ask away, I’m willing to answer any question—as long as you dare to listen."

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