Ten years later.
Third Holy Leithanien Empire, Capital Trullinczentyr.
The early morning sunlight filtered through the towering arches, spilling onto a wide avenue. On both sides of the street, stone architecture and holographic billboards shone in mutual radiance. Public land-vehicles drove past one after another, transporting commuters in a rush. Young couples dressed in retro attire rode bicycles leisurely, admiring the automatic cleaning robots wiping dust from the roadside sculptures.
"Master, the energy conduction circuit on this alloy piece burned out again. The client is rushing us; they say it's a core component for the new generation of Messenger drones."
A young man in his early twenties ran into a shop bearing the sign "Old Martin's Precision Workshop," cradling a complex metal construct and sweating profusely.
The man referred to as "Old Martin" was elderly, with graying hair but a vigorous spirit. Wearing a pair of reading glasses, he didn't even lift his head as he fiddled with the parts in his hands, muttering, "What's the rush? It's not like the bus is going to crash through a red light without waiting, is it?"
"It's the design from those brats at United Industrial again, isn't it?" Martin grumbled. "They only know how to pile on performance specs without considering heat dissipation redundancy at all! Tell them, for an extra three hundred Marks, I'll redesign the cooling circuit for them. Otherwise, this thing will burn out again in less than three months!"
"Master, you're raising the price again..." The young man looked distressed.
"Nonsense, is my craftsmanship not worth the price?" Old Martin finally looked up, blowing into his beard. "Back in the day, when I was repairing staffs for the Twin Empresses' honor guard, you were still wearing split-pants! Now that life is easy, you young ones have forgotten what it means to strive for perfection. You think all day about how to use the cheapest materials; sooner or later, you'll crash and burn."
The young man scratched his head and chuckled. "How could that be, Master? But speaking of which, with the Imperial Art Festival recently, His Majesty the Emperor's image is being projected everywhere. I heard my grandfather say that His Majesty... hasn't appeared in public for almost ten years, right? Her Majesty the Empress has been handling state affairs all this time."
Old Martin's hands paused for a moment, a complex emotion revealing itself in his eyes. He took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on.
"Don't ask what you shouldn't ask. Is Her Majesty the Empress not doing a good job? You can attend night school at the Imperial Institute of Technology, your sister gets free Originium inhibitors, and your relatives in the Ursus Province received land and drive tractors issued by the Empire. Who brought all this? It was the realm conquered by His Majesty the Emperor, and the prosperity guarded by Her Majesty the Empress. The husband and wife duo—one opened the sky and split the earth, the other governs the world. What is the problem?"
"No problem, no problem!" The young man waved his hands hurriedly. "I was just curious. My classmates are all talking about it, wondering if His Majesty went on some secret exploration. Like exploring the ocean, or the starry sky? It's just like a myth."
"Listen less to that nonsense." Old Martin harrumphed, picking his tools back up. "Instead of worrying about where His Majesty is, you'd better think about how to do the job in your hands well. His Majesty handed such a good era to us; we can't let it become a mess, can we? Go, get me a tube of cold-brew caffeine from over there. I have to pull an all-nighter today."
The young man acknowledged and turned to get the item. Old Martin watched his young, energetic back, a trace of a smile appearing in his cloudy eyes. He looked out the window at the Imperial Red Flag fluttering above the City Hall, exceptionally bright under the sunlight.
Yes, the times have changed. Changed to be so good that one wouldn't dare dream of it.
...
At the same time, in every corner of this vast continent, stories belonging to this "Golden Decade" were playing out.
Kazimierz, Grand Knight Territory Administration Center.
Maenner Templight's temples were now touched with a bit of frost, but his gaze remained as sharp as ever. He stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the orderly industrial park below and the boundless mechanized farmlands in the distance. On the screen, the industrial output and grain export data for the Kazimierz Province this quarter had once again exceeded expectations.
Ten years.
The corrupt Commercial Federation had long been thoroughly liquidated, and the knightly class that only knew how to put on a show had been swept into the garbage heap of history. Today's Kazimierz possessed the most complete industrial supply chain and the most efficient agricultural system in Terra. The new generation of young people no longer took pride in becoming competitive knights manipulated by capital; they yearned more to become engineers, scientists, or to join the Imperial Army to guard this hard-won peace.
Maenner lifted the clear tea on his table and took a sip. He thought of his two nieces. Margarete was now the Commander-in-Chief of the Empire's Southern Border Military Region, standing on her own. Maria was at the Imperial supreme technology research institute, leading several frontier projects. They had both found their own paths; the glory of the Templight family no longer needed to be confined to that small arena.
Occasionally, he would also think of that man. The man who, with just a few words, made him willingly lay down all his pride and fight for this cause until now. Where on earth did he go?
Maenner did not know. But he knew that everything he was doing now was the best response to that man.
...
Siracusa, Volsinii.
"Texas! Hurry up! They say the pistachio ice cream at this shop is the most authentic in all of Siracusa! We have to try it!"
Lappland Saluzzo, wearing a casual T-shirt and shorts, was like a husky off its leash, excitedly dragging the person beside her by the arm. Her signature white hair was draped loosely, her face overflowing with pure joy.
Cellinia Texas was dragged along helplessly, her face maintaining that rippleless expression, though the corners of her mouth lifted imperceptibly. They had just finished a long-term mission for the Intelligence Department, and Minister Gertrude had "mercifully" given them a month-long vacation.
Ten years later, they were long since Gertrude's most capable right and left hands. One responsible for field operations, the other for intelligence analysis—a seamless cooperation.
The Siracusa of today was no longer the one in their memories. The families that once entrenched themselves everywhere had either been uprooted under the Empire's iron fist or had gone with the flow, transforming into legitimate family enterprises. There were no more gang wars and assassinations on the streets; in their place were regularly patrolling Imperial security teams and convenient service stations visible everywhere.
Lappland rushed to the ice cream shop and shouted loudly to the owner, "Boss! One of every flavor! Put it on my tab!"
The owner was a smiling middle-aged man. He wiped his hands and said kindly, "Miss, we use code-scanning payment here; we don't support tabs. And are you sure you want every flavor? We have twenty-four kinds."
Lappland froze for a moment, then fumbled in her pocket for a long time before pulling out an Imperial savings card, looking blankly at the small payment terminal. She was used to reimbursing everything through internal accounts at the Intelligence Department; she was actually somewhat unfamiliar with this civilian payment method.
Texas sighed, stepped forward, skillfully took out her personal terminal, and scanned it lightly.
Beep—Payment successful.
"You're the reliable one, Texas!" Lappland immediately snatched two scoops of ice cream, stuffing one into her own mouth and handing one to Texas. "But, it feels a bit strange. Back in the day in Siracusa, if I said a word, they'd even give me the whole shop."
"Times have changed, Lappland." Texas took the ice cream and licked it gently; it was the chocolate flavor she liked. "It's... pretty good like this now."
Lappland looked at Texas's calm profile and grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. "Yeah, it is pretty good. At least the ice cream is much tastier than before."
...
Ursus Province, Saint Petersburg.
Ivan, once that malnourished Infected boy who could have died from Oripathy at any moment, was now a young engineer at the Ural United Mining Group. He wore a clean uniform, with the identity tag that all citizens possessed pinned to his chest. The red "Infected" marker on it had been thoroughly abolished five years ago after the Empire promulgated the "Civil Rights Act Final Amendment."
In these ten years, the changes had been earth-shaking. Initially, the discrimination of non-Infected against the Infected was deep-rooted, but following the Empire's mandatory implementation of integrated education and the establishment of common workspaces...
And most importantly—after a low-cost, highly effective Originium inhibitor was developed and included in the national healthcare plan, the barriers were gradually broken down. When the threat of death was no longer so imminent, when the Infected could work, study, and pay taxes just like you, the soil for discrimination was shoveled away bit by bit.
Ivan had just finished a day's work and picked up this week's inhibitors at the company pharmacy. He walked out of the building and saw a group of children playing and frolicking in the square. Among them were Feline, Lupo, and Ursus. There were Infected and non-Infected, but there was no distinction between them; they were simply enjoying the happiness of childhood.
His grandmother, Yekaterina, had passed away peacefully three years ago. On her deathbed, she held Ivan's hand, her cloudy eyes full of relief. She said she saw an Ursus she hadn't dared to dream of, an Ursus where her grandson could live with his head held high.
Ivan looked up at the sky; the setting sun dyed the dome of the Winter Palace a golden hue. He thought of ten years ago, of that man who made a promise to the people of the entire city through the broadcast. He had fulfilled all his promises. And they were living earnestly on this saved land.
...
Trullinczentyr.
These ten years were known as the Golden Decade of the Third Holy Leithanien Empire. Under the leadership of Empress Vina, the Empire developed at an unprecedented speed.
Serafina, now the Minister of Medical and Education, successfully implemented a standardized compulsory education system throughout Terra. From the industrial cities of Victoria to the border towns of Ursus, children were learning the same Leithanien language and standardized scientific and historical knowledge. A unified Terra Community cultural identity was quietly forming among the younger generation.
Wolner von Hochberg, Minister of Culture, and his deputy Arturia Giallo, pushed Leithanien's cultural soft power to its peak. The Trullinczentyr International Film Festival, the Terra Tour Concerts, digital art exhibitions... Leithanien's cultural products flooded every corner of the continent, subtly shaping everyone's aesthetics and values.
The Empire's technology tree, based on the massive plans left by Lacey, achieved an astonishing leap. Today was the tenth anniversary joint commemoration of the end of the war. The Imperial Central Square was a sea of people. Billions of citizens witnessed this historic moment together through screens and broadcast systems spread across Terra.
Empress Vina, dressed in a long white gown, walked slowly onto the podium. Ten years of time had not left too many marks on her face; instead, it added a serenity and majesty belonging to a ruler. Her gaze swept over the hopeful and reverent faces below, finally resting on the white monument erected for Lacey in the center of the square.
"Ten years ago today, the land of Victoria was engulfed in the flames of war; the snowy plains of Ursus were filled with wailing." Vina's voice spread clearly across the square, across all of Terra. "We were once divided, oppressed, bound by the shackles of the old era. We once thought that hatred and war were the eternal themes of this continent."
"Until one man appeared. He told us, no. He told us that the duty of an Emperor lies in serving the people, not enslaving them. He told us that regardless of origin, race, or infection status, we all possess the dignity and rights of being human. He used the edge of his sword to sever the chains of the old world; he used his words to ignite the spark of a new era. He promised us all a future of peace, justice, and prosperity."
Vina's gaze moved from the monument to look at the people once again. "Today, standing here, I want to say: We did it. We did it together! In these ten years, we have built new cities and reclaimed new fields. Our children study in bright and clean classrooms; our workers create in safe and efficient factories. We have conquered hunger, and we are conquering disease. On this land, no one needs to wag their tail and beg for a piece of bread anymore; no one is inferior because of their birth anymore."
"All of this, this glory that belongs to all of us, stems from that seed of hope he planted ten years ago. He attributed the glory of opening the era to himself, yet he left the rights to enjoy the era to every single one of us. He may have traveled far, to explore vaster stars, to guard more distant frontiers. But his spirit, the promise he represents, has integrated into the blood of every one of us, becoming the lighthouse of this Empire that will never extinguish."
"Therefore, let us remember. To cherish the peace before us, to hold fast to a common conviction. I, Alexandrina Vina Victoria, in the name of the Empress of the Third Holy Leithanien Empire, declare that this glory belongs to every person of Terra! The future will be guarded and pioneered by us together!"
"The Third Holy Leithanien Empire, eternal and everlasting! Long live Terra!"
As her voice fell, thunderous cheers and applause erupted in the square. Countless people had tears in their eyes. They shouted "Long live the Emperor," "Long live the Empress," "Long live the Empire," the sound waves rushing straight into the clouds.
In the VIP seats behind the podium, the core members of the Empire watched this scene quietly.
Gertrude Strollo, the supreme head of the Imperial Intelligence and Propaganda Department. Ten years later, the sharpness in her eyes had not diminished in the slightest. She was not as agitated as the others. Her terminal was displaying real-time public opinion data from across Terra: satisfaction, support rates, loyalty... All indicators had reached historical highs.
A trace of imperceptible softness flashed in her heart. That was nostalgia for the man who pulled her out of the mire of Wischeim and gave her the entire world to display her skills. But this nostalgia was quickly suppressed by reason. She was the Empire's shield, responsible for eliminating all threats. With His Majesty absent, she had to ensure even more that this edifice he built with his own hands would not develop cracks from the inside.
Serafina Ivanovna Petrova's eyes were slightly red, but her face bore a gentle smile. She thought of many years ago, in the small town of Salem, that somewhat clumsy young man who didn't know how to take care of himself. He said then that he hoped one day all kind people could live good lives. He did it. And she, as an extension of his will, was striving to make this good life even better. She gently clasped the pendant on her chest, which held a note left by Lacey that read "Guard the Hope."
Jian, the Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Guard. She stood straight as a statue behind Empress Vina, just as she had for ten years. Her hand never left the hilt of the sword at her waist, her gaze vigilantly scanning the surroundings. But at this moment, her thoughts drifted back to ten years ago. Lacey had entrusted Empress Vina's safety to her; that heavy trust was the highest honor of her life. She didn't understand grand philosophies; she only knew that whoever wanted to harm the Empress would have to step over her corpse first. This was her promise to that man.
After the ceremony ended, Vina returned to the study in the Imperial Palace under Jian's escort. Gertrude had long been waiting there.
"Your Highness, your speech was very successful." Gertrude handed over an encrypted document. "Public sentiment has been pushed to a peak. This is an excellent time for us to roll out the 'Citizen Contribution Rating System' in the next five years."
Vina took the document but did not open it immediately. She walked to the window, watching the gradually dispersing crowd outside, and asked softly, "Gertrude, have you ever thought... what if one day, people forget him?"
Gertrude was silent for a moment. "Your Highness, I just received an internal report from the Sociology Department of the Imperial Institute of Technology." She switched to a business-like tone. "The report indicates that among the demographic under eighteen, His Majesty the Emperor's image is transforming from a living leader into a historical symbol. Closer to a... founding myth. They are loyal to you, loyal to the Empire, but for the Emperor himself, they lack visceral experience and emotional connection."
Vina's body stiffened slightly. The issue she worried about most had surfaced after all. Lacey anchored himself in the Barrens to guard against it; the source of his power was precisely the collective conviction of the "Terra Community." If one day, the people who made up the foundation of this conviction began to view the anchor itself as an ethereal legend, then how long could this anchor... remain stable?
This was a challenge from time itself.
"I understand." Vina turned around, her eyes devoid of panic. "He handed the Empire to us; we cannot let its foundation shake."
She picked up the document Gertrude had handed her. "The implementation of the 'Citizen Contribution Rating System' must include a new assessment standard—Historical Cognition and Belief Inheritance. I want every citizen of the Empire to know clearly where everything we possess today came from."
"At the same time, activate the contingency plan for the 'Lighthouse Project'." Vina looked at Gertrude. "We need to find a way to let his radiance shine upon this land forever. As... a guide for all of us who truly existed."
Gertrude looked at the fighting spirit reignited in Vina's eyes—a light completely different from that of the former dynasty princess who chose a political marriage in despair ten years ago. She bowed slightly and responded in a deep voice, "As you command, Your Highness."
Lacey's war was over, but the war belonging to them had just begun. They would use their own methods to guard that man's back, to guard this hope... belonging to the entire Terra.
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