Chapter 132: The Emperor’s Summons

After a night’s rest, Xia Ya slept poorly. For some reason, the mysterious warrior he had encountered during the day kept appearing in his dreams. Again and again, even in sleep, he relived the suffocating pressure that man had brought him.

He woke twice during the night, and each time he opened his eyes, he could not help feeling thoroughly dispirited.

The country bumpkin’s pride had been shaken. Whenever he recalled how helpless he had felt before that man, he remembered standing before the mysterious warrior as though he were nothing more than an ant beneath a giant’s foot. At the slightest rash movement, the other man could have erased him from existence with ease.

That sense of powerlessness made Xia Ya feel deeply humiliated, as though his very bones had been softened.

He rose early the next morning and sat at the head of the bed. Suddenly, he noticed the fire fork lying beside him. He reached out and picked it up.

The weapon’s heavy, icy weight in his hand dispelled some of the gloom in his heart.

“I’m still too weak…” Xia Ya muttered to himself. “I’m far too weak. But… how can I become stronger?”

He had originally intended to ask the Fatty about the mysterious warrior when Rul came by during the day. However, he waited all morning, and General Rabbit never appeared. None of Rul’s guards stationed there knew anything either.

Xia Ya went to visit Yulia, who was staying inside, and spent some time speaking with her in an effort to lift her low spirits. Just before noon, someone suddenly came to report that an envoy from the imperial palace had arrived.

Xia Ya immediately left his room. At the gate of the courtyard, he saw Dodoro wearing an obsequious smile as he led in a middle-aged man. A carriage stood outside the gate, while several warriors in silver armor waited on either side, axes in hand.

The middle-aged man wore a gray linen robe and an absurdly oversized pair of trousers. His face had been covered with powder, making it unnaturally pale, almost frighteningly so. He carried himself with an air of arrogance, his chin slightly raised as he looked at people through his nostrils.

He entered with his hands clasped behind his back, ignoring Dodoro entirely. After giving a cough, he spoke in a remarkably strange voice. To put it simply, although his voice was hoarse, its tone possessed an oddly shrill quality.

“Where is Xia Ya Leiming?” The court envoy glanced at the country bumpkin who had emerged from his room, narrowing his eyes. “Ah. Is that you?”

Xia Ya nodded and walked over to him. As he looked at the envoy from the palace, he suddenly remembered something. He had once heard the Fatty say that many of the servants in the imperial palace were castrated men.

At that thought, the country bumpkin’s gaze could not help wandering down toward the man’s crotch. The trousers were so baggy that nothing could be seen from the outside. Still, the man’s lips and chin were perfectly smooth, entirely free of whiskers.

“His Holy Imperial Majesty commands that you, Xia Ya Leiming, accompany me at once to appear before him.”

The court envoy’s tone was arrogant. He gave a disdainful snort, then took out a handkerchief, shook it open, and wiped his nose and the corners of his mouth.

“Why are you staring at me like that? Go and change your clothes at once! How can you appear before His Majesty dressed like that?”

Dodoro could not suppress a laugh and hurriedly turned away. Xia Ya widened his eyes and looked down at his clothes. He did possess two handsome outfits, but the day before yesterday, when he had gone out, the men who ambushed him had thrown excrement all over them. He had already discarded them.

“This… is the best clothing I have,” Xia Ya said, scratching his head. “Um… His Majesty wants to see me right now?”

“Of course he does! Come with me at once!”

As Xia Ya followed him out, he heard the court envoy mutter under his breath, “Filthy rustic…”

Xia Ya was not angry. His gaze merely kept drifting toward the envoy’s crotch. After staring too often, his expression inevitably began to look rather strange.

The carriage outside was not intended for Xia Ya. The court envoy climbed inside, while Xia Ya obediently fetched his own horse and joined the procession as it headed toward the imperial palace.

The palace stood in the northeastern corner of Yanjing. As they passed through the city, imperial guards in silver armor rode at the front of the procession, axes in hand, clearing the way. Wherever they went, pedestrians scattered far ahead of them and opened the road.

Riding among the procession, Xia Ya looked from side to side. He found that the people along the streets cast fearful and awed glances at them. Fear, however, far outweighed respect.

The imperial palace of Osgilia had first been constructed at the founding of the nation. In the beginning, it had been no more than a fortress. After centuries of expansion by successive emperors, it had grown into a vast complex of palaces, recognized throughout the continent as the grandest and most magnificent palace complex in existence.

When they reached the eastern part of the city, Xia Ya saw in the distance the pointed tower of a circular fortress, imperial banners fluttering above it. A broad road stretched toward the fortress, level and immaculate. Before the walls lay a canal ten meters wide, encircling the entire palace and forming a city within the city.

The fortress itself was merely the entrance to the imperial palace. After crossing the drawbridge, they passed between palace guards dressed in bright-red ceremonial robes and carrying long axe-spears. Only after passing through the gate beneath the fortress did they enter the inner square of the imperial palace.

Before them stood row upon row of immense buildings. One magnificent palace after another stretched into the distance, forming a complex of breathtaking grandeur. Xia Ya’s eyes widened at once.

The court envoy climbed down from the carriage and glanced at him.

“Why are you still on horseback? Get down and follow me. No looking around, and no wandering off.”

Xia Ya had hoped to admire the legendary imperial palace properly, but after passing through several corridors and circling a number of enormous buildings and halls, the country bumpkin soon realized that he had completely lost his bearings.

The place was simply too large.

And it was far too quiet.

From time to time, he saw patrols of imperial guards in fine armor. Now and then, several palace servants appeared in the distance, walking quickly with their heads lowered, every movement filled with caution.

Other than that, what struck Xia Ya as strange was the atmosphere of the vast palace itself. Aside from the solemn majesty conveyed by its monumental architecture, it gave off an even stronger impression of lifelessness.

Yes—lifelessness.

The carvings on the buildings were extravagantly ornate. The murals on the walls were breathtakingly beautiful. Even the bases of certain columns were sheathed in gold.

They passed through corridor after corridor, with the fragrance of spices filling the air. Yet the strange scent made Xia Ya cover his nose.

This lifeless place, and that fragrance—it reminded him inexplicably of the smell of burial cloth.

Only after walking for a long while did Xia Ya suddenly understand why the palace felt so dead.

The squares, halls, and corridors they had passed through were covered with murals, carvings, and statues. But there was not a single plant anywhere.

Not one tree.

The ground was paved with neat stone slabs. The corridors were laid with exquisite tiles, even marble.

Yet there was not a trace of soil, nor the slightest hint of green.

Solemn. Grand. Majestic. Dignified.

But taken too far, all of it made the place seem like—

“Hmph. No matter how lavishly it is decorated, it is still nothing more than a huge tomb.”

The country bumpkin sneered inwardly.

* * *

At last, Xia Ya met the legendary emperor of the Byzantine Empire.

The great emperor was having lunch.

It was a vast circular room with a domed ceiling. After entering the round building, Xia Ya waited for quite some time in the magnificent hall before the envoy finally finished making his report and told him that he could enter.

Two young attendants with solemn expressions carefully opened a great door made of red copper. Both wore gray linen robes.

Xia Ya walked inside.

It was a dining hall. From a hurried glance, Xia Ya estimated that the enormous room could accommodate several hundred people. Yet in a room so vast, there was only one table.

A fire roared in the hearth. A soft bearskin lay spread across the floor, and even the grate before the fireplace was made of gold.

The current emperor of the empire, Emperor Kantos, sat behind the room’s only dining table. A napkin hung over his chest, and in his hand he held a small silver knife.

When Xia Ya entered, the emperor was carefully cutting into a piece of dripping-raw beef. Blood splattered from the meat, and several drops landed on the snow-white napkin over his chest.

The room was quiet. The emperor did not raise his head but continued eating. Behind him stood a middle-aged man in the darkness near the wall, so still and silent that he seemed like a shadow.

Indeed, Xia Ya had not even noticed that anyone else was in the room until his eyes happened to fall upon the man. Even after seeing him, Xia Ya experienced a fleeting illusion: the figure standing there seemed truly to be a shadow, not a living human being.

That man possessed not the slightest trace of vitality.

His appearance was utterly ordinary, as were his clothes. His head was lowered, his hands hung naturally at his sides, and even his eyes were only half open. His gaze was dull and devoid of all light.

It was a strange sensation. Yet this unremarkable man left a far stronger impression on Xia Ya than the room’s true central figure—the emperor himself.

Xia Ya stole a glance at the emperor. The ruler of the empire appeared extremely old. Wrinkles rose in layers across his face. His body was broad and imposing, yet he was shockingly thin, like an aged lion reduced to skin and bone.

His frame remained massive, but the black silk robe trimmed with gold seemed to hang from him like cloth draped over a bamboo pole.

Kantos paid no attention to Xia Ya. He patiently finished cutting the bloody beef, placed a small piece in his mouth, and savored the tenderness and the raw, gamey taste of the meat. Only then did the emperor let out a satisfied breath.

He had always preferred his meat this way. The habit had been formed during his years as a soldier in his youth, although the palace physicians had repeatedly advised him that such eating habits were detrimental to the emperor’s health.

After thoroughly savoring the taste of blood, Emperor Kantos finally raised his head and looked at the young man standing a short distance before him.

A complex smile appeared on the emperor’s face. He had noticed that Xia Ya had not knelt. Instead, the young man stood straight, with little fear or nervousness in his expression.

On the contrary, the young man’s attention had been drawn to the pure-gold candlestick on the table.

“Do you like it?” the emperor asked.

“Uh… like what?” Xia Ya asked blankly.

“That candlestick. You have been staring at it.”

Emperor Kantos set down his knife and picked up a silver goblet. The wine inside was crimson. A trace remained at the corner of his mouth, resembling bright red blood.

Xia Ya smiled awkwardly and quickly looked away from the candlestick. But inwardly, he could not help sighing.

Damn, that candlestick was huge. It had to weigh several pounds. He wondered whether it was solid gold.

“You may take it with you when you leave. Consider it my reward.”

The emperor set down the goblet and removed the napkin from his chest.

“Uh… what?”

Xia Ya was overjoyed, and delight naturally appeared on his face.

“You’re really giving it to me?”

Kantos smiled. He was beginning to like this dull-witted young man. At the very least, someone like this ought to be simple—and therefore easy to control.

Simple…

If the Fatty, Rul, or Dodoro had heard the emperor’s thoughts, they surely would have wanted to bang their heads against a wall.

After smiling, the emperor’s expression became stern again.

“You are Xia Ya Leiming.”

“That’s me!” Xia Ya puffed out his chest.

“You do not seem particularly respectful in my presence.” There was a trace of mockery in Kantos’s eyes.

“Uh…”

Xia Ya thought for a moment and hesitated. Then, astonishingly, he gave an answer even he had not expected.

Ordinarily, he should never have spoken to an emperor in such a manner. But this emperor did not seem especially difficult to deal with.

“Well, because I’m not Byzantine.”

The meaning was obvious: he was not the emperor’s subject, so there was no need for him to fear or revere him.

Kantos was momentarily stunned. Then he suddenly burst into laughter.

When he had finished, he looked at Xia Ya and nodded.

“Good. I have read your records. You grew up on the Wildfire Plains and joined our army shortly before the war. Still… from this moment onward, you are a Byzantine.”

Xia Ya said nothing. He merely looked at the emperor.

“I have heard about your performance on the battlefield. The reports I received were somewhat exaggerated, but I imagine your deeds were worthy of some of the praise. Moreover, you wounded Hastings.”

When the emperor mentioned the name Hastings, his pupils contracted visibly, and a hint of viciousness entered his voice.

“I only succeeded by ambushing him,” Xia Ya replied frankly. He had a feeling that telling the truth before this emperor might bring unexpected advantages.

“Hastings is far stronger than I am. I couldn’t defeat him in a direct fight. He could have killed me easily. I injured him only because he was caught off guard and I attacked him from hiding. Besides… his injuries were not serious.”

At the emperor’s request, Xia Ya was then forced to recount how he had challenged Hastings under Bonfret’s name, how he had forcibly dragged Bonfret onto the battlefield, how he had used Bonfret to draw Hastings’s attention, and how he himself had taken advantage of the opening to launch his ambush.

Throughout the entire account, Xia Ya deliberately portrayed himself as crude and uncultured. He let his mouth run without restraint, and whenever he became excited, vulgarities spilled out with no regard for etiquette.

“that arse-selling rabbit,” “that cowardly pretty boy,” “I’ll kill that bastard son of a whore”—expressions of that sort emerged one after another.

Xia Ya was not a fool.

He was doing it deliberately.

Although he possessed little in the way of cunning, he had instinctively sensed the change in the emperor’s attitude. When he uttered his first vulgarity, the emperor raised an eyebrow, and the amusement in his eyes seemed to deepen.

Later, when Xia Ya referred to Bonfret as “that pretty boy, the whore’s bastard,” the emperor’s expression actually revealed a look of satisfaction.

How could Xia Ya fail to understand the emperor’s thoughts?

He deliberately embellished the details of how he had tormented Bonfret, adding more color and exaggeration. When he reached the part about ambushing Hastings, however, he brushed over it lightly.

At last, when Xia Ya finished speaking, Emperor Kantos’s eyes were filled with unmistakable amusement.

Good.

Very good.

Excellent.

At the beginning, the emperor had merely felt a little fondness for this dull-witted young man. Now, however, he felt that he genuinely liked him.

The way Xia Ya had bullied that “pretty boy, the whore’s bastard,” Bonfret, had given the emperor immense satisfaction. And Xia Ya’s casual dismissal of his own ambush against Hastings led the emperor to mistakenly believe that the young man was an honest soldier who did not seek credit for himself.

Thus, under the emperor’s original assessment of “simple,” he added another definition:

Honest and straightforward.

A country bumpkin who was honest and straightforward?

Dodoro, Rul, and the others would surely have been gnashing their teeth in resentment.

Brave, simple, honest, and straightforward…

What emperor would not like a military officer like that?

Emperor Kantos was clearly in an excellent mood. After Xia Ya finished describing the ambush against Hastings, the emperor even asked him several personal questions.

In particular, he asked about Xia Ya’s life as a hunter on the Wildfire Plains—how he hunted in the wilderness, and how he killed magical beasts.

Xia Ya watched the changes in the emperor’s expression and deliberately disguised himself as a thick-headed young man with little intelligence. When speaking about surviving in the wilderness, he intentionally recounted several embarrassing mishaps, as well as stories of the times he had steeled himself and fought desperately when faced with danger.

Without even realizing it, Kantos laughed more during that lunch than he had in all the preceding ten days combined.

At the same time, the country bumpkin appeared increasingly pleasing in the eyes of the Lance Emperor.

To be continued.

Three-Seven Chinese Web. The Mandarin pronunciation is simple and easy to remember.