The heating in the Winter Palace was burning hot, yet Fyodor Vladimirovich felt cold to the bone.
He was no longer the Emperor of the Ursus Empire; he was merely a prisoner.
He struggled to push away the two Golden Law Guards attempting to escort him out, insisting on seeing Lacey.
regarding this, Jian chose not to employ forceful measures, instead granting him this final shred of dignity.
Fyodor did not wait long before the man who had ended everything walked into the palace.
Lacey wore a simple officer's uniform, speaking as if discussing today's weather: "The winter in Saint Petersburg is warmer than I imagined."
He looked around the resplendent palace, his gaze pausing briefly on the murals depicting the great achievements of past Ursus Emperors.
Fyodor let out a low, beast-like growl, his scarlet eyes staring dead at Lacey. "You usurper! You conspirator! Don't act hypocritical here!"
"Kill me! Use whatever method you like, then wait to be swallowed by this land!"
"The winter of Ursus will freeze your army, and the people of Ursus will smash your bones with ice picks!"
Lacey walked to the window, looking out at the square where Leithanien soldiers were distributing black bread and hot soup to the queuing citizens.
From the distance, the sound of children's laughter drifted up.
"They do not look like they want to smash my bones with ice picks," Lacey said with a smile, turning around.
"You lost not because your army was insufficient, nor because your tanks were not sturdy enough."
"You lost because while your people were starving, you were decorating your palace with gold."
"You lost because you treated the Infected like livestock to be driven, forgetting that they, too, are people of Ursus."
"You lost because you never thought of letting them live good lives, only thinking of sending them to the battlefield to be buried along with your pathetic vanity."
"Lies! It is all your despicable propaganda!" Fyodor roared, spittle flying.
"Is that so?" Lacey's tone held not a ripple of emotion.
"You believe the foundation of rule is bloodline and martial force, but I do not think so."
"From today onward, serfdom in Ursus will be abolished. The land will belong to those who till it. Every family will receive enough land to feed themselves."
"I will establish public schools so that every child, rich or poor, Infected or not, has the opportunity to read and learn."
"I will open the mines in the north and build new factories, but the miners and workers will receive reasonable pay and dignified treatment."
He walked down the steps one by one, approaching the throne. "I do not need your surrender, Fyodor."
"Because your people will make their own choice."
"When they receive land, have full bellies, their children can go to school, and their sicknesses can be treated, do you think they will miss the old era that made them live like dogs, or will they support this new order that gives them new life and dignity?"
Fyodor froze.
He wanted to refute, but found he had nothing to say.
He had never thought about these questions.
In his eyes, the people were just numbers, consumables, tools to realize his grand ambitions.
"You... you despicable fellow..." He could finally only squeeze out such a powerless curse.
"No."
Lacey shook his head. "I am merely a realist."
"The strength of an Empire lies not in how much land it can conquer, but in whether there are smiles on the faces of its people."
He no longer looked at Fyodor, turning to walk away.
"Lock him in the Peter and Paul Fortress. Give him decent treatment. Let him see with his own eyes how the Ursus he claimed would swallow me welcomes its new life."
Jian nodded to the guards at the door. Two Golden Law Guards stepped forward and hoisted up the former Emperor, who had collapsed onto the throne.
Fyodor struggled no more. It was as if all his strength had been drawn out; he simply watched Lacey's departing figure with hollow eyes.
He suddenly realized that Lacey did not care about him, this Emperor, at all. He did not care about his curses or his unwillingness.
From the very beginning, Lacey had come for this land beneath his feet, and for the millions of people upon it whom Fyodor had never looked at squarely.
Saint Petersburg, inside an apartment on Neva Avenue.
The old woman Yekaterina put the last bit of cabbage root into a soup so thin it could reflect one's silhouette. She looked worriedly at her grandson, Ivan, who was twelve years old but thin as a bean sprout due to long-term malnutrition.
On Ivan's chest, an Originium crystal cluster was faintly visible—the mark of an Infected.
Since the war began, food in the city had become tighter day by day.
Emperor Fyodor's grain requisition teams scraped the ground like locusts; even the half-bag of potatoes they had hidden under the bedboards had been searched out and taken.
"Grandma, I'm hungry..." Ivan lay weakly on the table.
Yekaterina's eyes reddened. She stroked her grandson's withered hair, her heart twisting in pain.
Just then, a commotion came from downstairs.
Immediately after, a knock sounded at the door.
Yekaterina jumped in fright. She grabbed the rolling pin by the door and asked nervously, "Who is it?"
A somewhat stiff voice speaking Ursus came from outside: "Hello, we are from the Temporary Administrative Committee. acting on the orders of His Imperial Majesty Emperor Lacey to distribute supplies to the citizens."
Yekaterina opened a crack in the door with half-belief and half-doubt, seeing two soldiers wearing Leithanien military uniforms and a young Ursus man wearing a red armband.
They held no weapons in their hands; instead, they were carrying a large wooden crate.
"This is your family's share," the young Ursus man said with a smile.
"Two bags of flour, a jar of cured meat, and... this is for the child."
A Leithanien soldier pulled a few items wrapped in oil paper from his pocket and handed them over.
Ivan leaned forward curiously, took one, and peeled it open. It was a piece of chocolate.
He had never seen such a thing. He licked it carefully, and his eyes instantly lit up.
Yekaterina looked at the two heavy bags of flour, her lips trembling, unable to say a single word.
Since her husband and son died in the northern mines, she couldn't remember how many years it had been since she had seen so much food.
"This... is this really for us?" She didn't dare believe it.
"Yes, old madam."
The leading Leithanien soldier tried hard to squeeze out a friendly smile, his Ursus spoken stutteringly.
"His Imperial Majesty the Emperor said the war is over. From now on, everyone will have bread to eat."
After the soldiers left, Yekaterina closed the door, leaned back against the door panel, covered her face, and the tears she had suppressed for years finally burst forth.
Ivan sat to the side, taking small, cherishing bites of the chocolate. The sweetness bloomed on his taste buds; he felt this was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten in his life.
That afternoon, bilingual notices printed in Leithanien and Ursus appeared in all the squares and streets of Saint Petersburg.
Article One: Effective immediately, the serfdom system of the Ursus Empire is abolished.
Article Two: A Land Reform Committee is established. All land under the names of nobles, the royal family, and the church will be nationalized and distributed equally to all landless and land-poor peasant families for generational cultivation and permanent holding.
Article Three: All Infected and non-Infected shall enjoy equal rights of citizenship. Any form of discrimination and oppression is strictly prohibited.
Although Ivan could not recognize all the characters, he understood the words "Infected," "rights," and "equality."
He pulled at the corner of his grandmother's clothes, pointing at the notice, his eyes flashing with an unprecedented light.
"Grandma, that Emperor Lacey, is what he says true?" he asked softly.
Yekaterina wiped away her tears and looked at the portrait of the young Emperor on the notice. The expression in his eyes in the portrait was very gentle.
She looked again at the flour bags in the kitchen and the chocolate stain at the corner of her grandson's mouth.
She nodded forcefully. "Ivan, I think... the times have really changed."
At the same time, Serafina, who had just been appointed as the Temporary Governor of Ursus, was walking along the streets of Saint Petersburg with Minister of Finance Leinia.
"It is hard to imagine that this was once my homeland." Serafina looked at the scenery around her, which felt both familiar and strange, her emotions complex.
She could feel the subtle shift from despair to hope, thanks to her Originium Arts that sensed emotions.
"The financial situation is even worse than anticipated." Leinia held a terminal, her brows locked tight.
"Fyodor almost emptied the national treasury. The monetary system has completely collapsed, and the inflation rate is ridiculously high."
"Therefore, His Majesty's first move was to start from the most fundamental aspects: land and the people's hearts," Serafina said softly.
"Money can be printed again, but if the people's hearts are lost, they can never be retrieved."
"Fyodor did not understand this principle, but His Majesty does."
Leinia nodded, a look of admiration appearing in the eyes of this pragmatic Minister of Finance. "Dividing Ursus into several provinces, managed jointly by our people and newly promoted local progressives, rebuilding the administrative system."
"Using land reform to soothe the peasants who make up the vast majority of the population, then using Imperial capital to revitalize the northern mines and industries, integrating them into our economic cycle... His Majesty is truly formidable."
Serafina looked into the distance, where a group of Ursus youths were spontaneously helping Leithanien soldiers clear rubble from the streets, shy smiles on their faces.
"This is what His Majesty wants. Not an enslaved Ursus, but a reborn Ursus that belongs to the Empire."
In the printing plant of the Winter Palace, machines roared through the night.
Bills and orders bearing the new order were printed out one by one. They would be sent to every corner of Ursus's vast territory.
Declaring the complete death of an old era.
Kazimierz, Grand Knight Territory.
Margarete Templight, dressed in military uniform, walked into the administration center of the provisional autonomous government, travel-worn.
She had just returned from the North Kazimierz front line. The fighting there had ended surprisingly quickly.
The old knight forces supported by Ursus were like paper before the regular Imperial Army; they collapsed at the first touch.
"I'm back."
Inside the office, Maenner Templight did not even lift his head, continuing to process the mountain of documents.
He showed not a shred of surprise at the progress of the war.
"Uncle."
"Here, you must address me as Sir."
"Yes, Sir!"
Margarete performed a military salute. " The entirety of North Kazimierz has been recovered. Remnant resistance has been fully purged."
"Hmph."
Maenner finally put down the pen in his hand and took a document from a drawer, handing it to her.
"This is the evaluation report on the industrial assets and mineral resources of North Kazimierz, as well as the preliminary integration plan with the South Kazimierz industrial chain."
"The military advisory group you brought back includes talents in economics and industry. Have them produce a detailed plan as soon as possible."
"His Majesty needs to see a unified, efficient Kazimierz that can provide assistance to the Empire, not a mess that is still engaged in internal friction."
Margarete took the report; it felt heavy in her hands.
She looked at her uncle, this man who had silently borne over a decade of infamy for the Templight family and for this land. Now, he could finally display his ambitions.
Kazimierz was unified again. Although it was under the red flag of Leithanien, it was unified nonetheless.
"I understand." Margarete nodded.
Maenner looked at his niece. She was no longer that impulsive, hot-blooded young knight, but a steady and capable Imperial General.
A rare gentleness flowed from his eyes.
"Go and rest a bit, Margarete. You did well."
He paused, then added a sentence: "The glory of the Templight family lies not in the vain names of the past, but in protecting the populace of the present and the peace of the future."
"You are putting this into practice."
Margarete felt warmth in her heart.
This was perhaps the most direct affirmation she had heard from her uncle's mouth in seven years.
Northern Border of Victoria, inside a newly conquered Ursus fortress.
Herlinmarte Hildegard stood at the highest point of the fortress, her black military uniform flapping in the cold wind.
Beneath her feet was the massive gate she had cleaved open with a single sword strike. The surrounding Victorian soldiers looked at her with a gaze mixing awe and fanaticism, as if looking at a deity walking among men.
Her communicator rang.
"Your Majesty." She could now call out this title without stumbling.
"Herlinmarte, how is the situation on the Northern Border of Victoria?" Lacey's voice came from the other end.
"Mission accomplished. The Ursus 3rd Army Group has been entirely annihilated or captured. All border strongholds are under control."
"There are no living resistors." Herlinmarte's report was concise to the point of being crude.
"Hard work." Lacey seemed long accustomed to her style. "How is the morale of the Victoria Legion?"
"High."
Herlinmarte glanced at the soldiers below who were gazing up at her worshipfully. "They fight for you. Now, they are the Empire's sword."
"Very good. Hand over the defense line to the follow-up troops and return to Londinium for rest and reorganization."
"Vina needs your support. Stability in the rear is equally important."
"Yes." The communication cut off.
Herlinmarte turned and ordered the adjutant behind her: "Order the troops to clean the battlefield and collect the remains of the fallen soldiers."
"Tell logistics to bring out the best food. Tonight, we feast."
The adjutant froze for a moment. This "Black Empress," known for her ruthlessness, would actually issue such a... human order.
Herlinmarte did not explain. She simply raised her head to gaze in the direction of Londinium.
She did not understand politics, nor did she like it.
But she knew that Lacey was doing something unprecedented. And she was the sharpest sword in his hand.
That was enough.
The plains of Southern Ursus.
Alexei Ilyich, an Ursus man whose family had been farmers for generations, was kneeling on an agricultural plot. He held a handful of moist soil in both hands, trembling all over with excitement.
Behind him, his wife and two children were also streaming tears.
Just moments ago, a local Ursus official wearing a red armband, accompanied by several Leithanien soldiers, had handed a deed stamped with the Imperial double-headed eagle insignia into his hands.
"Comrade Alexei Ilyich, according to the 'Land Reform Act' of His Imperial Majesty Emperor Lacey, this land belongs to you from today onward." The young official patted his shoulder, his smile sincere.
Alexei dared not believe his ears.
Generations of his family had been serfs to the Grand Duke, working themselves to death all year round yet unable to even fill their bellies.
Now, this fertile land had actually become his own?
"Is... is this true? I'm not dreaming?" he asked mumblingly.
"Of course it is true." The official smiled and pointed into the distance.
"Look, the tractors and seeds aided by the Empire will arrive very soon."
"This autumn, you will be able to welcome an unprecedented bumper harvest."
Alexei raised his head and saw a row of brand-new red tractors on the distant horizon, gleaming under the sunlight.
He could no longer suppress it. This man, who had weathered so many storms, began to wail and cry like a child.
And in the Ural Mountains of Northern Ursus, Minister of Economy Meklen was wearing a hard hat, pacing back and forth excitedly in front of a newly prospected mineral vein.
"Unbelievable! The reserves are astonishing! And there are associated rare metals!" He shouted to the engineers beside him, spittle flying.
"That fool Fyodor was begging for food while sitting on a mountain of gold! If he had taken out half the money used to develop these resources, he wouldn't have been beaten by us like this!"
"Mr. Minister, the mining conditions here are very harsh, and the infrastructure is almost zero," a Leithanien engineer reminded him.
"Then build it!" Meklen waved his large hand, high-spirited.
"Power stations! Worker dormitories and hospitals! Build them all for me using the highest standards!"
"Tell the steel mills in Victoria and the construction material companies in Siracusa that their orders have come!"
"Within a year, I want the ore from here to be transported continuously to factories all over the Empire!"
He looked at this vast mountain range of ice and snow, his gaze burning hot.
In his eyes, this was not a wasteland, but the steel heart of the Imperial industrial system that would beat for the next hundred years.
At the same time, Serafina's work was also quietly unfolding.
In an old warehouse in Saint Petersburg that had been converted into a temporary classroom, she was teaching a group of Ursus children to learn the Leithanien language.
Most of these children were Infected. In the past, they couldn't even touch the gates of the city schools.
"Ap... ple." She picked up a red apple, reading in a gentle voice.
The children followed her, repeating with halting pronunciation.
A bold little girl raised her hand: "Teacher, if we learn this, can we go to Leithanien like you?"
Serafina smiled and patted her head. "Learning this is so you can understand more books and learn more knowledge."
"In the future, all of Terra will open its doors to you."
Her gaze crossed over the heads of the children, looking out the window.
The unification of language and script was the first step in cultural integration.
It was a long and arduous process, but she had patience.
Because she had personally experienced the suffering of Ursus, she hoped more than anyone that this land could welcome true peace and rebirth.
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