Part 3: The White Chamber and the Gathering Storm
In the West Hall of the Imperial Palace lay the Emperor's executive office, known as the White Chamber. The entire chamber was paved with marble, and the desk and chairs were also made of the material. This was the place where the Emperor received ministers and envoys.
Currently, the Imperial Regent, the Han Aureus Duke (Dipper Aureus), was hunched over the massive desk, processing a deluge of complex and trivial paperwork.
Money. The problem was money!
Song Earnest, the Imperial Grand Chancellor, who was home sick with a cold, had sent an urgent memorial this morning.
The government's budget was nearly exhausted. The new budget had not yet been approved. If the stalemate continued, Imperial civil servants would go unpaid next month.
The Empire was not without funds, but the money was locked in the treasury, which could not be opened without the Emperor's personal writ.
The Director of Finance was equally stressed. The budget had been drafted long ago, but no one could open the Imperial Treasury without official approval.
To solve this dilemma, the Han Aureus Duke had specifically invited the Raven Lord, Mont Mentiel, to the Palace today to consult. He hoped to coordinate the five National Lords to jointly sign the budget, along with himself as Regent, the troublesome Marquis Su Wang, the Grand Princess Consort Su Wan , and finally, the Grand Chancellor Song Earnest. The collective nine signatures would approve the annual budget and unlock the treasury, averting the crisis of the state machine seizing up.
This matter could not be initiated by the Han Aureus Duke actively calling the meeting, as that would be positioning himself as the Emperor, which would provoke resistance and boycotting from the Imperial Grandson faction. The best tactic was for the National Lords themselves to initiate the action and then "urge" the Regent and Grand Princess Consort to cooperate in rescuing the Imperial crisis.
The only man at his side capable of flawlessly executing this delicate task was Mont Mentiel.
At noon, the Raven Lord Mont Mentiel came to the White Chamber to pay respects to the Regent, the Han Aureus Duke. Following behind Mont Mentiel was a young man, energetic and vital.
The Han Aureus Duke recognized the man at once and welcomed him warmly.
"When did you arrive in Prime Lake City? Why didn't you come to see me first, running off to the Fox's Den instead?"
The Han Aureus Duke never missed a chance to tease Mont Mentiel as a "fox," for all their classmates knew the depth of Mont Mentiel's calculating mind, and no one wanted to offend him.
"Last night. I arrived only to find the fox being chased by a pack of enemies, so I grudgingly offered protection to this endangered species."
"Another assassination attempt?"
The Han Aureus Duke looked toward Mont Mentiel, who could only shrug and offer a wry smile.
It was high noon, yet no biting cold permeated the White Chamber's side hall.
The massive floor-to-ceiling windows filtered the thin daylight into a pale golden gauze, gently dusting the long dining table set with snow-white linen. Compared to the solemn grandeur of the main hall's marble, this side hall felt much warmer, due to the leaping flames in the fireplace and several pots of hardy green plants—as if deliberately creating a space of tranquility isolated from the outside storm.
The Han Aureus Duke (Dipper Aureus) had already instructed the Palace Steward to prepare a lunch that was not extravagant but sufficiently sincere to show respect.
The roasted lamb chops were cooked to perfection, crispy outside and tender within, seasoned with rosemary and thyme native to the shores of Lake Dipper. The root vegetables were stewed until soft, infused with the essence of the meat drippings. There were also large baskets of freshly baked black bread, emanating an inviting scent of wheat.
This was not an Imperial feast but the fare for a gathering of close friends. To share such an undisturbed lunch with two former classmates, at the very center of the power vortex, was a rare moment of respite and solace for Dipper Aureus.
"Be seated."
The Han Aureus Duke took the main chair first, waving away the attending servants, leaving only a white-haired, steady-eyed elderly eunuch waiting quietly outside the door.
"There are no outsiders here. Dispense with the formalities."
Mont Mentiel gracefully pulled out the chair to the right, a faint smile—that perpetual, knowing grin—playing on his lips.
"To be able to sponge a meal off the Regent in the White Chamber," he slowly unfolded his napkin. "It seems this 'fox' of mine still has some utility."
Sitting opposite him, Li Junce's newly shaved face was clearly defined, showing a rugged determination, his exhaustion barely concealed beneath the cleansed skin. He nodded silently, his gaze still habitually sweeping every corner of the hall like the most vigilant sentinel, missing nothing—not the folds of the curtain nor the shadows on the frescoes—as if his invisible armor had not yet been removed.
The meal proceeded in a delicate balance. The conversation darted between amusing anecdotes from their Academy days and a cautious, veiled discussion of the current situation. The Han Aureus Duke eventually brought up the core issue of the fiscal crisis, hoping the Raven Lord would step in to coordinate the various factions.
Mont Mentiel had no reason to refuse. This was serving the state, a duty incumbent upon him. It was a matter of Imperial interest, regardless of political alignment.
It was halfway through lunch, during that brief, almost deceptive moment of relaxation—
The elderly eunuch's steady, slightly labored voice sounded from outside the door.
"Your Grace the Regent, the Marquis Su Wang of State Stability's residence has sent a bottle of wine. They say it is the first batch of new vintage, rushed by fast horse from the Western Marches, which he humbly asks Your Grace and the Noble Guests to sample as a token of respect."
The dining table fell into an instant silence, so absolute that a pin drop would have been deafening. Cutlery hung suspended; chewing ceased. Even the air seemed to stop moving.
The Han Aureus Duke's (Dipper Aureus) eyes met Mont Mentiel's for a fleeting moment. There was not a hint of surprise or shock, only a cold, almost weary comprehension. Li Junce's back subtly stiffened; the hand resting beneath the table quietly clenched into a fist.
"Bring it in."
The Han Aureus Duke's voice was utterly calm, void of any discernible emotion.
The side hall door was gently pushed open. A low-bowing servant, clad in the standard livery of the Marquis of State Stability's residence, entered, holding a beautifully chased silver platter aloft in both hands. At the center of the platter, a deep-colored glass bottle of wine rested. The cork was new, the wax seal unbroken. The crimson, blood-like liquid reflected an alluring, dangerous gem-like sheen in the light streaming through the high windows. The servant carefully placed the silver platter on an empty spot on the dining table. He never once dared to lift his head. Having completed his task, he retreated swiftly and silently with the same humble posture.
The bottle of wine, thus, became a sudden, silent fourth "guest" at the table, like a black stone thrown into a calm lake, its ripples an invisible killing intent.
The Han Aureus Duke did not look at the wine. He did not even cast a single glance of inquiry. He merely turned his head and softly instructed the elderly eunuch, whose face had gone pale, his tone as casual as if he were simply asking for a salt dish.
"Go and fetch that bold, white poodle that always lingers near the Imperial Gardens."
Mont Mentiel picked up his napkin and wiped the corner of his mouth with exquisite elegance, as if brushing off some contamination or filth. He turned to Li Junce, his voice deeply lowered, laced with unconcealed derision.
"See that? Marquis Su's 'respect' is so heavy it could crush a man to death."
His eyes were frigid, devoid of any humor.
Li Junce's brows furrowed like a mountain range. His gaze was fixed on the bottle like an iron nail, every muscle in his body poised for immediate action.
In just a few moments, the elderly eunuch returned, holding a small, snowy-white poodle, its fur fluffy like a sphere, in his arms. The cat was obviously well-cared for. It let out a lazy "meow" in the eunuch's embrace, its round, sapphire eyes curiously scrutinizing the strangers in the room, utterly unaware that it was about to become a cruel footnote in the power struggle.
The Han Aureus Duke personally leaned over, grasped the cool bottle, and slowly pulled out the finely made wooden stopper. After a soft pop, a rich, mellow aroma of grapes immediately diffused through the air, without the slightest hint of any strange, poisonous scent. He took a clean silver cup and unhurriedly poured about a quarter of the striking crimson liquid into it.
Then, under Mont Mentiel's cold scrutiny and Li Junce's bated breath, he steadily offered the cup to the mouth of the unsuspecting cat.
The cat seemed irritated by the unfamiliar wine smell and turned its head away with a tiny whimper. But the Han Aureus Duke's hand was steady as bedrock, expertly forcing the cat's pink tongue to lap at the wine in the cup a few times.
For the first few seconds, everything was normal. The cat even lapped again instinctively after its tongue touched the liquid, as if tasting it.
However, this calm was merely the false curtain before the storm. The next second, it let out a shriek so sharp it was ear-splitting. Its entire body shuddered violently, as if struck by an invisible heavy hammer, and it immediately tumbled from the eunuch's suddenly slack arms to the ground!
Its white body began to twitch and spasm uncontrollably. Its beautiful fur stood on end. White foam, clearly streaked with blood, uncontrollably frothed from its mouth and nose. The round, once clear sapphire eyes dilated wildly in extreme agony, filled with terror and incomprehension.
This agonizing struggle did not last long. After only a few violent gasps, it completely slumped onto the ground, its limbs rigid, utterly silent. The dilated pupils had lost all light, reflecting the cold, merciless daylight from the window—like two lifeless glass beads.
The side hall fell into a silence deeper and more viscous than before. Only the crackling of dry pine wood in the fireplace echoed clearly, which only made the silence, now suffused with the smell of death, even more suffocating.
The elderly eunuch's face had lost all color. He dropped to his knees with a thud, his body shaking like a sieve, his forehead pressed against the cold floor.
The last vestige of feigned ease vanished completely from Mont Mentiel's face, replaced by a deep, chilling cold that threatened to freeze the air. He gently placed the snow-white napkin he held onto the table, his motion slow and deliberate, as if the soft cloth had been tainted by an indelible poison and grime.
Li Junce abruptly stood up, his tall frame casting a shadow of sheer pressure in the sunlight. His gaze was no longer a sweep but a drawn sword, carrying a biting intent, repeatedly scouring every corner of the side hall that might conceal danger.
The Han Aureus Duke slowly, very slowly, placed the nearly full silver cup back onto the delicate silver platter. The cup's base touched the plate, issuing a solitary, clear "clink."
He lowered his eyes, his gaze resting on the small body at his feet, which still retained a trace of warmth. His face was devoid of any ripple of emotion, as if he had merely flicked away a speck of dust. However, had anyone dared to look into the depths of his ink-green eyes at that moment, they would have seen a chilling blizzard, capable of destroying everything, raging within.
He raised his head, his gaze first meeting Li Junce's eyes, which were filled with warning and inquiry. He gave a slight nod, signaling him to hold back for the moment. Then, his sight shifted to the stony-faced Mont Mentiel.
"Bury it."
He spoke, his voice low and steady, yet carrying an unquestionable decisiveness that emanated from the pinnacle of power, clearly reaching everyone in the room. His eyes swept over the bottle of poison, which still emitted a rich aroma.
"Seal it as is. Not a single drop is to be missing."
He paused, each word like a pellet of ice hitting the ground.
"Send it, completely intact, back to the Marquis Su Wang's residence."
He paused again, a frigid, utterly devoid-of-warmth curve forming on his lips.
"Tell him—"
The Han Aureus Duke's voice was steeped in unconcealed contempt.
"The good intention, I have taken to heart."
"Only," his gaze flickered back over the cat's corpse and finally returned to the faces of his two friends. Beyond the coldness, his eyes held a ruthless disdain for the enemy's crude tactics.
"To employ such… low-grade and tedious methods of poisoning is truly a disappointment."