Chapter 139: [Bleeding] (First update of February, bring on the monthly votes~)

It was said that the appointment of General Adric, commander of the Imperial Central Standing 13th Cavalry Corps, as the Deputy Minister of Military Affairs within the Imperial Ministry of Military Affairs had already been officially forwarded to the Senate.

This move by Emperor Contos instantly stirred up a wave of commotion among the powerful circles of the capital. Many sensitive individuals began to frantically guess what the supreme sovereign's intentions truly were.

According to the legal code established at the very founding of the empire, any appointment of principal or deputy ministers to the imperial ministries required deliberation by the Senate. Only after the deliberation passed would the appointment be reported back to the head of the designated department for countersignature.

However, such a procedure had long since become a dead letter. The decline of the Senate had spanned several centuries from the early to the middle periods of the empire. Countless leaders and dignitaries of the Senate who held democratic ideals of restricting imperial power had engaged in numerous fierce struggles with the royal family. Yet, because this system of "democratic restriction of imperial power" possessed an irreparable congenital defect from its inception—namely, that the Senate itself wielded no actual power—once imperial power became centralized, the Senate inevitably devolved into a mere ornament for empty talk and deliberation.

To put it frankly, while the initial conception of the Senate at the founding of the empire was noble, its institutional flaws ultimately transformed it into a malformed version of so-called democracy.

Once a emperor successfully seized absolute control over both military and political affairs—well, if they happened to encounter a weak-willed ruler, the Senate might occasionally get a chance to make its voice heard. But if they encountered a resolute and power-hungry monarch, the Senate could truly be reduced to a venue for idle chatter.

Therefore, roughly two hundred years ago, a certain emperor of the empire took things a step further. That particular monarch forcibly rammed through an imperial decree: the emperor was granted the authority to issue special appointments, and as long as these appointments received the approval of the Council of Nobles, they could directly bypass the Senate's deliberation process and be forwarded straight to the head of the appointed department for countersignature and implementation.

As for the so-called Council of Nobles, it was essentially a clique of major imperial aristocrats closely clustered around the royal family. Since the royal family was the highest nobility of the empire, and all other nobles shared a fundamental alignment in class status and overarching common interests with the crown, they naturally marched in lockstep with the royal house. Eventually, the Council of Nobles evolved to the point where the vast majority of its members were either members of the royal family or nobility connected by marriage. Consequently, at least regarding the empire's personnel appointments, imperial power was virtually free from any constraint!

Yet this time, to the astonishment of the various elite factions in the capital, the Lancer Emperor must have had a wire crossed in his brain somewhere, because he had actually submitted a personnel appointment document to the Senate?!

The Senate?!!

Everyone knew that for over two centuries, the Senate's personnel appointment deliberation system had long fallen into disuse. Over the past two hundred years, let alone appointing a dignified Minister of Military Affairs, not even the appointment of a lowly clerk in some obscure department would ever reach the Senate for a single word of input.

What on earth was the emperor trying to do? Could Emperor Contos have been blind drunk when he signed this appointment order?

Or had the Lancer Emperor gone senile and wanted to forge some kind of relationship with the Senate?

Such speculation aside.

The most ironic reaction came from the Senate itself.

The Senate had not conducted a personnel appointment deliberation in two hundred years. It was said that when the imperial palace messenger delivered the official document signed by His Majesty to the Senate, the gatekeeper caught sight of the brocade-robed imperial messenger and failed to recognize his attire for a moment—it had been far too many years since the Senate had received a messenger from the palace.

The arrival of the imperial palace messenger immediately threw the usually desolate and neglected Senate into absolute chaos. A few executive senators present at the time frantically rummaged through boxes and chests to find bright, presentable garments, and then argued for over half an hour over the proper protocol and ceremonial steps for welcoming an imperial palace messenger into the Senate grounds. This was a first in over two hundred years! Ultimately, they had to hurriedly flip through historical documents to unearth a few precedents from centuries prior.

When the senators finally stepped outside the gates to welcome him, the imperial messenger had already been standing impatiently under the scorching sun for a long time. Yet the senators still put on airs as they stood at the threshold, offering neither bows nor friendly gestures, holding their heads high and blocking the doorway. From the look of them, even if someone were to crash right into them, they had no intention of yielding an inch.

What was the meaning of this?

Somewhat displeased, the imperial messenger gave a dry cough and said, "I bring the appointment signed by His Majesty. Please submit it to the Senate for deliberation."

"Hm!" The senator standing dead center suddenly raised his voice and let out a roar that nearly frightened the imperial messenger into tumbling backward. "Does His Majesty know that civil rights stem from the livelihood of the people?!"

The muscles on the messenger's face twitched. Suddenly recalling the emperor's strict prior instructions which seemed to account for this exact scenario, he shrank his neck and muttered submissively, "His Majesty is aware."

"Very well." The first senator nodded with satisfaction, wearing a reserved smile as he stepped aside.

The second senator, still standing firmly in place, suddenly bellowed in a resonant voice, "Does His Majesty know that sovereign authority is derived from the people?!"

The messenger gritted his teeth, forcing himself to endure his ringing and itching ears. "His Majesty is aware."

"Splendid!" The second senator stepped aside.

As for the third senator, he looked so ancient that he appeared to have lost every last tooth in his mouth. Though his silk robe seemed glossy at a glance, a closer inspection revealed numerous moth holes and a faint, stale smell of mildew, as if it had just been dragged out from the absolute bottom of a chest. The old man looked barely able to stand, drawing breath with the utmost difficulty. The imperial messenger even harbored a secret fear that this old fogey might run out of breath and be summoned by the grace of the gods at any second... "His... Majesty... does... he... know... about... the... people's... welfare..."

The shriveled, toothless mouth barely managed to spit out these few faltering words, sounding muffled, indistinct, and barely perceptible. The messenger felt utterly helpless. This old geezer probably had one foot already buried in his skull, so what was he doing out here? Regardless, he decided not to bother trying to decipher what the old man was muttering. Before departing, His Majesty had instructed him that this entrance ritual was an ancient tradition, so he didn't need to overthink it; whenever a prompt arose, he just had to blurt out "His Majesty is aware."

Raising his voice right on cue, the messenger answered the old man's nod, preparing to utter a return phrase: "Splendid." But the messenger was already too exasperated, so he simply squeezed past the gap in the human barricade ahead of schedule.

Once inside, he thrust the documents he was carrying directly into the hands of the first senator, finally letting out a sigh of relief. "The official document written by His Majesty has been delivered. If deliberation is required, please reach a decision as soon as possible. I must return to report to my superior now."

With that, noticing the three elders standing in a row as if they intended to drag out some further ancient ritual, the messenger felt his patience wearing thin and quickly beat a hasty retreat.

Watching the messenger depart, all three senators let out a collective sigh of relief. The oldest among them instantly lost his ability to stand unaided, prompting two attendants to rush forward and prop him up. One of the senators unfolded the document and glanced at it. "Eh? General Adric, appointed as the... De... Deputy... Minister of Military Affairs of the Im... Imperial Ministry of Military Affairs?!"

The other two were instantly struck dumb as well. Even the decrepit old man suddenly seemed to straighten his back and catch his breath, staring in utter shock at his two colleagues.

A full half-moment passed before all three suddenly burst into wild, ecstatic joy. "A sweeping victory! A glorious victory!! Quick! Issue the summons! Gather all members of the Senatorial Council and make sure it's sent out to everyone today! A glorious victory!! For the Emperor to hand such an important appointment over to the Senate for deliberation—this is a massive triumph for democracy and civil rights over imperial power!!!"

All three wore expressions of fanatical infatuation. After laughing wildly for a while, the senator standing in the middle lowered his voice and sighed thoughtfully, "Sigh... With this matter as a foundation, next month's operating funds should be disbursed a bit earlier, right? Hm, chewing plain cabbage every single day lately has truly grown a bit tiresome. This time, we'll finally get to eat some meat, won't we?"

Upon hearing this, the other two senators immediately wore expressions of deep, shared empathy. For a moment, they were utterly jubilant; even the oldest among them began to dance around with joy as they heard one of the senators muttering incessantly, "Meat, time to eat meat..."

Watching three normally dignified and respected senators behave in such a manner, the young attendants standing nearby were left utterly bewildered. None of these young servants had ever read many books, so concepts like democracy and civil rights were naturally completely beyond their comprehension. Yet, judging by the expressions on their three masters' faces...

Uh... So democracy apparently meant eating meat?

***

The personnel appointment deliberation, convened for the first time in two hundred years, immediately sent shockwaves through the entire capital. After the summons was issued that day, a check of the Senate's registry revealed that there were a total of 163 registered current members holding decision-making rights. However, once the call went out, the headcount turned out to be wildly off target.

As it turned out, with the decline of the Senate, daily operations had long since been maintained by a mere thirty-some executive members—and by "operations," that meant social luminaries of the capital periodically gathering in the Senate under the guise of "restricting imperial power and practicing democracy" to needle current state policies and national affairs. To put it bluntly, it was a place to air grievances and engage in empty talk. Quite a few among them harbored delusions like, "If I were prime minister, I would do thus and so," "If I were Minister of Military Affairs, I would reform the system like this," or "If I were the imperial chief justice, I would revitalize the legal code..."

Needless to say, capable individuals were few and far between, while arrogant fools full of complaints and unwarranted self-importance formed the majority. Water flows downward, and people strive to go higher. With the Senate having fallen into such disgrace and possessing neither power nor influence, how could it possibly retain true talent?

Yet these periodic gatherings did serve one distinct purpose: they attracted social elites who loved to pose as intellectuals and pretended to care deeply about national affairs and the people's livelihood—though these were strictly second- or third-rate figures, as the true first-tier core echelons would never set foot in such a place. They could only air their hollow rhetoric here and lament their unrecognized talents. Generally speaking, while these individuals belonged to the lower strata of the upper class, many possessed considerable fortunes, and a few even sported minor, insignificant aristocratic titles.

These people gathered regularly, and each gathering featured a fundraising drive. The collected funds were used to maintain the Senate's day-to-day operations.

Furthermore, in order to showcase its authentic "democratic and civil rights" character, the Senate had historically extended membership with voting rights down to the common people—figures who excelled in various industries, profound scholars, renowned celebrities, and so on. Naturally, such a spectacle had only been witnessed over two hundred years ago; nowadays, it was long gone.

By now, the Senate had long since fallen into utter desolation, to the point where those voting memberships sometimes couldn't even be given away!

Why?

In everyday life, these voting qualifications were completely useless. In this sprawling Senate, where on earth was there any bloody matter that required a vote? Yet holding this voting membership meant having to pay an annual membership fee. Who on earth would be willing to do that?

Consequently, membership qualifications were continuously lowered until they could be lowered no more, resulting in a mixed bag of good and bad alike. And once the standards dropped, raising them back up proved exceedingly difficult.

Therefore, when this summons came down, the capital was sent into an uproar. Yet by the time night fell, the list of over a hundred voting members still could not be fully accounted for. Servants dispatched from the Senate rushed back in a panic to report:

Member So-and-so had passed away years ago.

Member So-and-so had moved his entire family away long ago.

Member So-and-so had converted to the Church, devoting his remaining days to serving the gods and ignoring worldly affairs.

When the final tally was done—excluding those who had succumbed to old age, sickness, vanished without a trace, or transcended worldly matters—the total number of voting members still living, breathing, walking, and possessing a functioning brain inside the capital came out to a paltry eighty-eight!

The three senators exchanged glances, all looking utterly helpless.

Well... fine then! Eighty-eight it is! Something is better than nothing.

They promptly dispatched a joint invitation letter signed by the three of them to the residence of General Adric in the capital, scheduling the deliberation meeting for the following morning.

***

Early the next morning, the three senators were buzzing with a manic energy, having tossed and turned all night in sleepless excitement. A grand event unseen in over two hundred years had somehow fallen into their laps. If Emperor Contos truly had a loose wire in his head, then praying to the gods, they hoped he'd let loose a few more crossed wires in the future!

Reflecting on their status as senators experiencing an unprecedented event untouched for two centuries, they figured their names would surely earn a line in the history books!

Yet, excitement aside, when the three senators waited through the morning for the voting members who had answered the summons to arrive... all three froze simultaneously!!

This... this... what the hell were these?! Were these the members possessing the sacred democratic voting power within the sacred, people-rights-focused Senate?!!

Standing on the steps of the Senate, the three senators were struck dumb all at once:

At the very front gates of the Senate, an ox cart had completely blocked the steps below the entrance. The cart's wheels were deeply mired in a dirt pothole on the road. The carter, who had been sitting sideways with his legs dangling, had already leaped down and was pulling desperately at the ox's head while the beast let out mournful "moo" sounds.

Meanwhile, a motley crowd had gathered around the entrance. As soon as the Senate doors opened, these people swarmed in like a hive of bees: "The doors are open, the doors are open! Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait!!!" The youngest of the three senators was terrified and hurriedly barked at the attendants: "Block the door, block it! You people outside, state your names and professions one by one!"

There was a young woman wearing a small cloth jacket, cradling a baby with a prominent bosom: "My husband is a smith, and he's got work to do today, so he asked me to come... Uh, I don't have a name."

There was a burly fellow reeking of blood, slicked with grease, and bearing a fierce expression, with a boning knife tucked into his waist: "I'm a butcher!"

There was a middle-aged man wearing rolled-up sleeves and hands covered in mud: "I'm a gardener who grows flowers."

There was a young, thin, and short man who glared fiercely: "My father died, I'm here in his place."

..................

Finally... there was a young man with a pale complexion tinged with a sickly bluish hue. Even under the sunlight, he exuded a somewhat effeminate and ghostly aura: "I... I am, I am... I am..."

By this point, the three senators' hearts had gone utterly cold. Hearing this last person stuttering and stammering, one of the senators furrowed his brows impatiently and barked, "What on earth is your profession?"

"I..." The pale, effeminate man twirled a lock of hair awkwardly. "I... I work in a pleasure house..."

Before the three senators could fully process this, the burly butcher from earlier suddenly chuckled and pointed at the man: "Ah, so he's a rent-boy."

...At that moment, the three senators probably wished they could just drop dead on the spot!!

The dignified Senate, the symbol of civil rights established at the founding of the empire, had actually degenerated to such a state?!

Common laborers and foot soldiers were one thing! But actually, actually... actually even a damn whorehouse rent-boy had become a voting member of the Senate?!!

The three senators looked at one another. Finally, the senator in the middle gave a cough, frowned, and said, "Stop all this quarreling! This is entirely ridiculous!! Where on earth did all of you get your membership qualifications?! According to Senate regulations, anyone who acquires membership must possess a certain level of cultural education. Look at yourselves..."

The senator stamped his foot heavily and snorted. "Stop shouting! Listen to me! Among all of you, who is literate? Who can recognize Byzantine script, and can read and write? Step forward first!"

He asked this question three times, but only saw the crowd below look at each other in blank dismay, looking left and right, with not a single person actually stepping forward.

Filled with grief and indignation, the senator was about to heave a sigh when the pale, effeminate man timidly raised his hand: "Umm... I..."

A flash of joy crossed the senator's face: So someone actually knew how to read after all! Regardless of what kind of person he was, having someone was better than no one!

However, when the effeminate man continued, his words were:

"I... I don't know how to read words, but I sure know how to count! Counting from one to one hundred, I don't have any problems at all."

Count? Count from... one... to one hundred??

If this senator's psychological fortitude hadn't been reinforced just then, he probably would have dashed his brains out against the steps on the spot!

Count numbers?! Among the successive generations of elites in this Senate, there had been continental civilization historians, researchers, inventors, politicians, military strategists, and countless artists... And now, a fellow who could only "count from one to one hundred" had actually become the member with the highest level of education among the voting delegates?! If the predecessors of past generations knew about this, they'd probably leap straight out of their graves in sheer rage!

Overwhelmed by a sudden wave of bitter despair, that lingering sliver of excitement and anticipation was swept completely clean.

The senator's face flushed with fury. "Count from one to one hundred?! Hmph, aren't you just wonderful for being able to count to one hundred!!"

He had meant it as sarcasm, but to his horror, the pale-faced, effeminate man remained completely oblivious: "Ah, indeed! I usually manage four clients a day, and by the end of the day, I bring in an income of a hundred copper coins."

The senator smiled coldly. "Oh? So that means every single... client... brings you twenty-five copper coins?"

The pale, effeminate young man suddenly wore an expression of profound wonder: "Eh? Old gentleman, how did you know?! Ah... Could it be... could it be that you've also been to my place... Hmm, though I don't seem to remember you at all..."

"...Pfft!" A jet of fresh blood spurted forth.

"Ah! Senator Lord! Senator Lord... Oh dear! Someone come quickly! Senator Lord!!"

(To be continued)