"Your Majesty, this crisis is bound to inflict unprecedented damage upon the reputation of Ursus. Moving forward with such disclosures was a highly impulsive decision!"
"Indeed, Your Majesty! Those releases are inflicting severe damage upon the strength of the nation! We cannot simply abandon the nobility for the sake of a few common citizens! The aristocracy constitutes the core pillar of this empire!"
The morning following the Emperor's grand declaration, a dense crowd of nobles gathered before the throne, delivering a relentless stream of complaints and utilizing their seniority to criticize the young sovereign's actions.
As they swarmed around him, Emperor Fyodor viewed them as nothing more than a cloud of buzzing, repulsive blowflies. Beyond stirring a profound physical disgust, their existence served zero purpose.
Yet, a dark realization struck his mind. If these ministers were merely flies circling around him, what did that make his own position? Was he a tempting piece of decaying flesh, or something even more sickening?
The thought forced the sovereign to see his reality with chilling clarity. Had he, by permitting these parasites to surround him for so long, transformed into an equally loathsome entity? Was this how his subjects viewed him from afar?
Amused by the irony, the Emperor suddenly burst into a loud laugh. The eerie sound echoing through the grand hall instantly terrified the protesting courtiers. Their complaints died in their throats, and the rowdy chamber fell into an intense, suffocating silence.
The young ruler was historically a man who kept his emotions tightly guarded; seeing him laugh so uncharacteristically before the assembly triggered a profound wave of unease throughout the room.
Fyodor paid zero attention to their frightened stares. He continued to laugh, mocking his own foolishness for the way he had conducted his rule over the years. How incredibly blind he had been!
His behavior only intensified the terror griping the ministers. In the frame of this young ruler—whom they had previously dismissed as an unpolished youth easily manipulated as a puppet—they suddenly glimpsed the silhouette of a man they could never forget.
The late Emperor.
The previous sovereign had possessed an identical habit of laughing aloud when provoked. Yet, immediately following such laughter, his preferred course of action was to command the Blades to drag away whoever had displeased him, subjecting them to interrogation techniques that defined true terror.
In that defining moment, the assembly realized that the young ruler before them still carried the blood of the late Emperor, having received his foundational education directly from that formidable source!
The reason his tyrannical tendencies had never manifested before was simply because Fyodor had desired to avoid the brutal reputation that stained his father's grand legacy.
But today... had their collective arrogance during this season of crisis finally awakened the dormant beast within the young sovereign's heart?
A few elderly ministers recalled that when the late Emperor had initially ascended the throne, he too had been marginalized as a political puppet. It was the constant mockery and dismissal from the high nobles that had driven him to become such a merciless tyrant.
The realization left the courtiers trembling like frightened quail. They exchanged panicked glances, and several individuals instantly formulated plans to flee Deity Grypherburg before the sun set.
They bitterly cursed the ambitious peers who had dragged them into the palace to protest today. If they managed to leave the grounds alive, they would consider the debt settled, vowing to maintain a strict distance from those factions for the rest of their lives.
"Heh... hehe... humph!"
The laughter vanished as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a cold, sharp snort. The ministers instinctively drew their heads down into their collars. Given the late Emperor's temper, this was the exact sequence that preceded an execution order.
"I am truly disappointed, yet at the same time, I am deeply gratified. I am overjoyed to see so many loyal subjects gathered here today, demonstrating such immense courage to offer their council for the future of Ursus!"
The words 'loyal subjects' were practically ground out from between Fyodor's teeth, mirroring the intense fury his father had once wielded. There was zero denying that the two rulers were of the same blood.
"A corruption scandal that will forever stain the histories of Ursus, yet you stand here shielding the perpetrators! I am exceedingly curious to know: are you truly ministers of this crown, or are you merely the domestic servants and mouthpieces of those criminal houses?"
In a fit of rage, Fyodor delivered a powerful kick to the heavy writing table before him. The desk flew across the chamber, shattering into splintered fragments as it slammed against the stone wall. Flying shards of timber cut through the air, leaving bloody streaks across the faces of the nearest courtiers.
Yet, not a single individual dared to utter a sound. Everyone understood the Emperor was currently traversing a path of pure fury; stepping forward now meant risking being flayed alive on the spot.
Besides, even if word of this outburst reached the public, the citizenry wouldn't view the action as a sign of imperial tyranny. Instead, they would celebrate the demise of nobles who had discarded their humanity, declaring they deserved every bit of the violence.
"This single investigation implicates more than fifty members of the imperial assembly! Out of our six Grand Speakers, I have been forced to strip three of their offices! The number of aristocratic houses involved has exceeded two digits, and the victimized subjects of Ursus number in the tens of thousands—no, the hundreds of thousands over the decades!"
With every shocking figure the Emperor delivered, the volume of his voice climbed higher, forcing the lower courtiers to take a step back. By the time his voice escalated into a full roar, several ministers had retreated all the way to the main entrance.
Amidst the panic, a select group of ministers stood remarkably straight. This faction was the loyalist group led by Grand Speaker Witte; having never dipped their hands into such foul practices, they possessed zero reason to feel faint-hearted.
Truthfully, they hadn't even needed to attend the assembly today. But since a massive political spectacle was unfolding, and because their consciences were completely clear as steadfast supporters of the crown, they saw zero reason to miss the show.
Though they maintained solemn expressions to match the gravity of the room, their hearts were practically bursting with joy. When had they ever seen these arrogant nobles—who usually held their noses so high they couldn't see the floor—reduced to such a pitiful state?
It simply proved that the Emperor represented the true future of Ursus. How could anyone with an ounce of sense align themselves with parasites who sacrificed the empire for personal gain?
"Do you know what the most ridiculous aspect of this entire affair is?" Fyodor inquired, his tone dropping to a deceptively mild cadence as he surveyed the trembling assembly.
The ministers shook their heads in unison. It was a simple rule of survival: when the sovereign posed a rhetorical question during a fury, you kept your mouth shut and let him speak.
Denying the Emperor his stage today meant forfeiting your life tomorrow. Staring at the young monarch, who currently radiated the terrifying aura of his predecessor, many wished for a way to turn back the clock so they could break their own legs rather than attend the court.
"The most ridiculous part is that as the reigning Emperor, I had to secure an alliance with outside forces just to uncover these crimes! And what is truly terrifying is that these records constitute merely the visible tip of the iceberg regarding the horrors you have executed!"
Looking down at the crowd, the only individuals who offered him any comfort were the few standing straight alongside Witte. The remainder of the assembly caused his blood pressure to spike through the roof with their mere presence.
"I strongly suggest that anyone here who had a hand in these operations surrender to the authorities immediately. Voluntary confession will allow me to offer a measure of leniency. If you still harbor thoughts of flight... consider the futures of your families, and every individual tied to your lineage!"
The Emperor felt a deep, exhausting weariness creeping into his bones. While he desperately wished to execute the entire lineages of these corrupt factions down to the ninth generation, doing so would leave the imperial administration completely vacant for months, leaving him with zero personnel to manage the provinces.
"Now, return to your estates and reflect deeply on whether you have executed any deeds that betray this crown, betray Ursus, or betray the populace! If my investigations uncover your names, our relationship as ruler and subject will become exceedingly awkward..."
Seeing that the rowdy factions had been thoroughly silenced, the Emperor gestured to dismiss the court. Following the terror delivered today, no fool would be brave enough to challenge his direction anytime soon.
The ministers retreated from the chamber with frantic haste, their movements so rushed and panicked that several individuals outran their own footwear, fleeing into the snow barefoot without even realizing they had left their shoes behind on the polished floor.
The strike proved highly effective. Not a single noble dared to underestimate the young monarch again. In fact, several mid-tier officials actively stepped forward to surrender, delivering detailed confessions of their past misdeeds.
A massive portion of these confessions directly implicated the high nobility; the turncoats chose to sacrifice their allies to secure their own survival, thoroughly broken by the ghost of the late Emperor manifesting within the young ruler.
Armed with these new logs, Fyodor organized his forces and deployed the Emperor's Blades to execute a systematic roundup of the named aristocrats. For a brief season, the common folk of Ursus actually experienced a period of profound tranquility.
With the central administration focused entirely inward on the survival of its own factions, the apparatus of the state had zero energy to spare for harassing or persecuting the lower classes.
It was a dark irony that the common people secured peace and stability only because the ruling class had descended into terminal chaos. In any other nation across Terra, such a reality would have been viewed as a tragic comedy.