Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 405 Coronation Ceremony
Seven days after the Regent's death, the dark clouds still lingered over the capital.

The rain that had been falling for days seemed to be washing away some truth hidden in the royal city, but it only made the oppressive atmosphere in the air even lower.

In front of the Imperial Hall, a large number of nobles and civil officials stood in formation, their cloaks billowing in the wind and rain, yet they still managed to maintain their composure.

Today is the day to send off Regent Arens, which should be a solemn and glorious imperial ceremony.

But everyone could see that there was a strange gap between the scale of the funeral and the appropriate level of respect.

The priest chanted prayers at a hurried pace, and the master of ceremonies walked three steps faster than usual. The coffin, escorted by several guards, was almost hastily carried to the underground palace.

The nobles exchanged knowing glances; some frowned, some whispered…

The regent died only seven days before his body was hastily buried, which was against protocol.

It was too fast, so fast it seemed like it was trying to cover something up.

Moreover... no one has actually seen what the corpse looks like.

It is said that the regent's condition worsened before his death, and his face became ulcerated. To avoid disturbing the public, it was not advisable to open his coffin.

But this explanation only made most people more uneasy.

The fourth prince, Rhine, stood below the altar, draped in a black robe, his expression somber.

Karen, who was beside him, whispered the guest list to him, confirming that no absent family would cause trouble.

Rhine simply nodded, as if he had already taken all the changes under control.

At least that's the surface.

In fact, he hardly slept a single full night during those seven days.

He was busy appeasing the eight great families, reassuring them that the empire was still under control.

He purged the opposition, replacing or placing under house arrest a number of key officials under various pretexts.

He took control of city defenses, shift changes, detentions, and transfers, swiftly seizing all the power left by the regent.

More importantly, the Second Prince and the Fifth Prince have completely disappeared. The pursuers sent by Rhine only found the Second Prince's army, and they were able to break through the encirclement.

What annoyed him even more was the regent himself...

He was indeed dead, but his body was nowhere to be found.

Rhine could only pick out a prisoner from the dungeon who was similar in build and emaciated from starvation, and use alchemical potions to corrode his face, making everyone believe that he was the regent who had died of illness and was now decaying.

He knew it was a gamble, but without a body, the funeral could not proceed, and without a funeral, he could not begin the next step of his plan: to elect a new regent.

And he had to become that regent.

At this moment, the prayers ended, the coffin was slowly pushed into the depths of the underground palace, the master of ceremonies announced the completion of the funeral, and the princes and nobles turned towards the Imperial Hall.

Rhine strode forward, with Karen close behind, lowering her voice: "Your Highness, all eight great families are seated and awaiting your presiding over the regency ceremony."

Rhine nodded: "Very good. The longer they have to wait, the more it proves that I am the only choice to stabilize the empire."

Karen quietly suppressed her excited breathing.

Over the past seven days, he has been the one who understands better than anyone the pressure and power struggles Rhine has faced.

Those who opposed the movement were quietly replaced, those who hesitated were appeased, and those opportunists are now eager to swear allegiance in the Imperial Hall.

Rhein walked up the white jade steps of the Imperial Hall, rainwater dripping from the eaves and splashing at his feet.

He said softly, "After today, the empire will usher in true order."

Karen looked up at him, her voice trembling: "Your Highness...you have already won."

Rhine didn't laugh, but simply said, "No, there's still one last step."

Having just returned from the royal cemetery, Rhine hadn't even had time to go home.

In a side hall of the palace, his attendants ripped off his rain-soaked black mourning clothes and put on his formal attire, which symbolized the supreme ruler of the empire.

The slight tremor in his fingertips was not due to sadness, but rather to the adrenaline surging within him.

As he had his servant fasten the last button, he urged in a low voice, "Hurry up. Has Simmons arrived yet? Where are the people from the Overwatch Council?"

The attendant nodded nervously, draped the shoulder pendant over his shoulders, and Rhine strode toward the Imperial Hall.

When he pushed open the door to the Imperial Hall, the sounds of rain and wind seemed to be instantly shut out.

The temple-like hall was empty and solemn, with a ghostly blue flame hanging high in the dome illuminating the marble floor, yet it brought no warmth to anyone.

Twelve colossal emblems stand on either side of the wall: the shattered dragon shield of Dragonbreath City, the crescent moon spear of Darkwind Ridge, and the broken helmet of the Ironforge Knights...

They were like silent giants, looking down from above at this tiny yet ambitious usurper.

Above the highest steps, the throne, carved from a single piece of obsidian, is hidden in the shadows.

Rhine looked up at it; it was the place he had longed for for half his life.

The eight major families and civil and military officials gathered in the hall, and all eyes were fixed on Rhine.

The regent is dead; the empire needs a new helmsman.

Everyone knows that the young prince who walks into the Imperial Hall at this moment, even though the emperor has not yet returned to court and the imperial throne is nominally vacant, still regards himself as the sword that will sooner or later firmly insert itself into the dragon throne.

However, the eight core seats at the crescent-shaped long table below the Imperial Hall appeared particularly desolate.

Those were eight chairs symbolizing the power of the highest nobility in the empire, which should have been packed during important decisions, but now only five people were sitting there.

Duke Simmons sat at the head of the table, his face glowing.

He kept getting up during the banquet and talking quietly with the civil officials around him, as if tonight was a celebration he had personally prepared.

He is a die-hard Rhineland fan, he bet the most thoroughly, and now he is the most triumphant.

Duke Diaz wore a long robe with deep patterns from the Censorate, and his expression was sinister.

His family's hereditary rights are still in the hands of the royal family, so he has to keep a close eye on any developments.

The Holden family representative looked as haggard as a half-dead tree.

Their parents owed the Ministry of Finance a huge debt, and if they didn't come, they would die. They had no choice but to sit at the table that symbolized imperial power.

The representative of the Beres family kept touching his cuffs, his face full of hesitation.

They are the most typical opportunists; whichever way the wind blows, their knees buckle in that direction.

He is here now only because the tide seems to be turning in favor of the fourth prince.

The Karady family, whose members were purged by the late emperor and stripped of their permanent seats in the Noble Council, has now been temporarily reinstated because the fourth prince wanted to make up the eight seats.

He sat upright in the last seat, his expression respectful, at least outwardly appearing grateful.

The three empty chairs, like tombstones, serve as a reminder to everyone:

Duke Calvin remained completely silent, and even Eleanor, his representative in the capital, had already withdrawn.

Duke Raymond, a pillar of the Second Prince's faction, has not yet arrived.

House Edmund is practically extinct in the North, and Louis... has not sent any envoys.

Empty seats are a provocation in themselves.

President of the Inspectorate, Mays, stood in the center of the long table, wearing a silver robe. He had been temporarily assigned to preside over the ceremony because the Minister of the Interior had gone missing. Although he was acting as the acting president, his figure appeared particularly heavy.

His voice sounded cold and hollow in the echoing array:
"Given the unfortunate passing of the Regent, the country cannot be without a ruler for even a day. It is hereby proposed that the system of electing a monarch be reinstated, with His Highness Prince Rhine, the Fourth Prince, serving as the first guardian of the imperial power."

An awkward silence fell over the hall. According to ancestral rules, such an important matter required the unanimous approval of the eight major families, but only five families were present.

No one spoke. No one was willing to take the responsibility of being the first to speak.

Rhine stood on the steps, raised his chin, and said in a chilling voice, "Silence is consent." He slowly glanced down at the crowd below. "Absence is abstention."

Then he turned to the most obedient person: "Duke Simmons, what is the current vote count?"

Simmons, already impatient, raised his scepter—symbolizing a noble vote—and spoke in a loud voice:

"Five votes in favor! More than half, passed!"

The servant unfurled the parchment scroll, and the gold lettering of the "New Imperial Charter" shimmered faintly in the firelight. These were the rules that Rhine himself had rewritten.

When the Duke of Simmons was the first to sign his name, his hand was trembling as the pen touched the paper; it was a tremor of excitement that he could hardly contain.

Following them were Diaz, Holden, Berez, and Carradine.

With each name mentioned, Rhine's smile deepened.

He finally breathed a sigh of relief when the fifth name was firmly pressed onto the parchment scroll.

He raised his teacup and gently greeted the empty storm outside the window.

The movement appeared calm, but it was more like a coronation ceremony for himself.

"Father... if you were here, you would surely laugh at me." He murmured to himself, a hint of barely perceptible contempt in his voice.

But you never understood that politics should be elegant, not a flower watered with blood.

In those years, he witnessed his father purge dozens of families with brutal and direct methods, causing the entire empire to submit in fear.

That's not rule; it's just a sword hanging over everyone's head.

I would not do that. True power should make subjects kneel willingly, not be forced into a corner.

He didn't say these words aloud, but they were etched in his heart deeper than any vow: no need for a butcher's knife, no need for bloodshed, no need to purge dozens of families.

As long as there are rules, as long as there is legality on paper, and as long as there are a few signatures, he can make the empire hand over power to him on its own.

Tonight is the first step.

The throne is not vacant, but what about the real emperor? He has been missing since then, and it's likely he will never return.

Even if they do come back, it will only be to hold my coronation ceremony.

He put down his cup, turned to the civil servants in the room, and gave them a gentle and composed smile: "Gentlemen, cheers to the new order."

The crowd responded in unison, their voices echoing beneath the dome: "Cheers to His Majesty Rhine!"

…………

The torrential rain poured down into the valley, the sound of the water like countless iron arrows falling at the same time.

The second prince, Karen, arrived here with his remaining eight hundred loyal guards.

They had just broken out from the western suburbs, their armor was covered with broken knife marks, and many of them had unbandaged wounds, but they gritted their teeth and endured it, not one of them uttering a groan.

When they passed through the last checkpoint and entered the depths of the valley, the sight before them made Karen hold his breath.

More than 10,000 troops, including the Gray Rock Cavalry under Raymond's command, as well as the 10th and 31st Border Legions, stood solemnly in the rain.

Rainwater streamed down their helmets, washing away the mud from their faces, but they remained motionless, like rows of iron monuments standing in the storm.

Carleon rode past these knights.

The eyes of these people were not filled with confusion or expectation; they held a fierce glint of desperation.

After months of starvation, they ate grass roots, boiled leather, and even killed their own horses to survive.

This extreme oppression is not about destruction, but about pushing them a step further from being human to being beasts.

They don't need drugs to control them, nor do they need oaths to bind them; their resentment itself is the purest form of fighting spirit.

Kalein's lips slowly curled into a smile.

“This isn’t an army,” he whispered, a satisfied chill in his voice. “This is a pack of wolves.”

He scanned the distance: "That bookworm Rhine has starved the Empire's guard dogs to madness... Now, let him taste what it's like to be torn apart."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the Duke of Raymond rode up from the other side of the rain, his cloak fluttering in the wind and rain.

He didn't exchange pleasantries, he simply raised his hand and waved.

Immediately, hundreds of supply wagons covered with tarpaulins were pulled open by the knights.

The moment the tarpaulin hit the ground, a mad flash of light appeared in the eyes of those knights braving the wind and rain.

Inside the supply wagons, there was no magical glow, no ceremonial decorations, only the most direct thing to ignite the morale of the troops:

—The chests of imperial gold coins gleamed with a brilliant gold in the torchlight.

Raymond, like a generous controller, slightly raised his chin, his tone composed, even somewhat disdainful:

“Your Highness, Rhine thought that by seizing the national treasury, he could make you submit.” He pointed to the supply wagons, “but he forgot that the Raymond family’s three hundred years of accumulation cannot be stopped by those little court tricks.”

He raised his hand to suppress the rain: "These... are enough for this army to turn over every single paving stone in the capital."

Kalein remained silent for a moment, then slowly stepped onto the high platform washed by the rain, his armor gleaming in the lightning.

He drew the sword that symbolized imperial power, its blade flashing coldly in the rain.

The sound of rain seemed to be suppressed in that instant.

Karen's voice was loud and powerful, carrying the unique arrogance of royalty: "Knights!"

His sword pointed towards the edge of the Grayrock Valley: "I know you're hungry—! I also know you've been wronged!"

The crimson light in the knights' eyes flickered under the lightning.

Kalen's voice suddenly lowered, but it was more chilling than a roar:
"Rhine! That coward who hides in the Imperial Hall and only knows how to play with ink!"

He poisoned the regent! He cut off your supplies! He treated the heroes who protected the empire like beggars!

The thunder roared, as if adding a chill to his words.

He raised his longsword high, its tip piercing the night sky.

"I don't want you to follow the rules, I only want you to do one thing." He spoke each word clearly, his voice like the crack of a blade, "Go into the city and take back your wealth! Take back your glory!"

A strong wind whipped up rain and lashed at our faces.

The next instant, lightning tore through the night sky, illuminating Karen's profile as cold and austere as cast iron.

He roared, "Two days from now, I will drink Rhine's blood in the Imperial Palace! And you will drink fine wine on the Triumph Avenue!!"

He suddenly swung the sword of punishment downwards, and it landed on the rock.

"All troops—move out!!"

His response was not a chaotic cheer, but the metallic scraping sound of thousands of weapons being drawn simultaneously.

The voice was heavy and cold, like a giant beast awakening in a storm, baring its fangs.

Kalein slightly raised his chin, his chest heaving with a fierce satisfaction.

The hunter officially embarked on his night journey into the city.

(End of this chapter)