Chapter 113: Alfred
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
After the aircraft lifted off, Chen Jinshan contacted Godric. The other man sounded genuinely surprised by the sudden call.
“Colonel Chen! Have you discovered something new?”
“No,” Chen Jinshan replied flatly. “I wanted to ask you a question.”
“Alright, go ahead.”
“Do you know anything about the ancient Earth mermaids or the Thales mermaids?”
“Mermaids? Not much. Humans from the Alliance can’t pass through the divine barrier in Thales, but I do know the Spiritual Monarch is very fond of mermaids.”
“Are you talking about Lin Xu… or the real Spiritual Monarch?”
“The real Spiritual Monarch,” Godric answered. “But I imagine Lin Xu would be fond of mermaids too.”
Godric couldn’t provide any further information. Chen Jinshan was about to end the call when Godric stopped him just in time.
“Wait, Colonel Chen—I have a question for you.”
“What is it?”
“How did your conversations with the First Legion’s commander go?”
“I managed to meet with her a few times. I don’t think she has any data on the Zerg’s birth stage,” Chen Jinshan said. “But I vaguely recall her mentioning comparisons between human military power and the Zerg. The Empire has the strength to strike directly at the Zerg homeworld, but such proposals have never been approved. If needed, I can get my hands on internal First Legion combat analysis reports.”
“That would be helpful. Please, ensure secure data transmission.”
—
At the banquet, His Majesty the Emperor left early, his expression dark. It was rumored that Marshal Chu had also left ahead of time. The guests were abuzz with speculation—had something occurred between the Emperor and the Marshal?
Leo had to force a smile to calm the crowd. He kept up appearances until the event ended. When it finally did, he let out a long sigh and headed toward the rear garden to clear his mind. Just then, the emperor’s aide approached him.
“His Majesty would like to see you.”
“My father’s still awake?”
It was already three in the morning. The birds in the garden had long stopped chirping.
“Yes, Your Highness. His Majesty has remained in his study.”
Dragging both body and spirit, Leo made his way to the Emperor’s study.
Inside, the lighting was dim. Emperor Rowen had left only a desk lamp on. He waved a hand to dismiss the aide, leaving only Leo in the room.
“Father…”
“Come, sit. I have something to tell you.” Rowen motioned for him to sit by his side. “Leo, you are the heir I’ve chosen. Even though… even though I’m not that old yet, the current state of the Empire is turbulent—threats within and outside. We must plan ahead.”
“Leo, do you keep a journal?”
Leo shook his head.
“Not quite a journal,” Rowen clarified, “more like a record. It’s a tradition passed down by emperors of the Empire. In our position, we often learn things no one else can—information that cannot be compiled or shared. It’s important.”
“It becomes a blade in your hand. These records should be handwritten to avoid digital leaks. Store them in a dry, cool place away from fire and crowds. Only the emperor is allowed access.”
“The contents concern the Empire and humanity—not personal emotions. When you see it, you’ll understand. You can start trying to write them now.”
Leo opened his mouth, ready to ask more questions, but Rowen gave him no chance.
“It’s late. Go rest. I need to sleep too.”
“…Yes, goodnight, Father.”
As Rowen watched Leo’s retreating figure fade into the night, he slowly rose with heavy limbs and pressed a hidden button between the bookshelves.
With a low rumble, the heavy shelves parted to reveal a hidden space behind the stone wall. Rowen stepped inside, and a sequence of cold, white lights flickered on, illuminating a spiral staircase descending into darkness.
He walked down, step by step, until he reached a chamber fifty meters below the surface. It was an old basement, lined with glass cabinets filled with paper notebooks—some new, some ancient. The oldest one was so worn its stitching was nearly undone. That was the one he was looking for.
He carefully opened it and turned to the last page, where three faded photographs were tucked inside—all of the same young man. Only one photo showed a clear frontal view, seemingly cropped from a larger picture. In the other two, the man was either reading or giving a speech.
On the page holding the photos, a note was written:
“If you ever see Him again, do not approach. He is extremely dangerous. Press the triangular button in the room—you will find your answer.”
The man in the photo looked almost exactly like Dr. Lin Xu, whom Rowen had seen at the banquet. Rowen couldn’t even describe the shock and instinctive terror that overtook him in that moment. It felt as though time itself had shattered into boulders and come crashing down over his head. The photo had to be at least six hundred years old.
Who—or what—was this being the Arsen family’s ancestors had warned about?
Was it the Spiritual Monarch? In all known history, the Ark Fleet had indeed referred to the Monarch using that pronoun, but no visual records of the Monarch had ever been preserved. Then what was Lin Xu? Rowen didn’t know what kind of answer awaited him.
Frowning, he slowly approached a triangular control panel on the side of the room and pressed the button. Half a second later, the ground beneath him began to tremble, causing him to stumble slightly. The stone wall before him reshaped itself, revealing a narrow passageway.
He stepped inside. The corridor led to a small chamber, where an ancient LCD screen was mounted on the opposite wall. Glowing words appeared on it:
“Please, put on the connector and lie down. I will explain everything.”
In the room stood a raised platform of unknown material. On it rested a helmet-like connector. Rowen hesitated for several seconds. He hadn’t expected the devices down here to still have power—let alone remain functional. No one had used this place.
His heart pounded like a meteor striking the far horizon, the resulting quake spreading like an omen. A deep sense of dread clung to him—but he still reached out and put the helmet on. He wanted to know who Lin Xu really was.
As soon as Rowen lay down, the connector activated automatically. This ancient model used invasive probes to link directly with the brain. The sudden, icy stab of pain made him cry out. In the same instant, he felt his consciousness unraveling.
He tried to lift a hand to remove the helmet—but the probes linked too quickly. Before he could act, he lost control of his body. His vision darkened. His sense of temperature faded. And at last, even the faint hum of machinery was lost. No answers came. Rowen’s consciousness vanished completely.
—
Half an hour later, the man lying on the platform suddenly opened his eyes. The bright light shrank his pupils to pinpricks. He blinked to adjust, then slowly tested movement in his limbs.
It took him ten minutes to reclaim full control of his body. Then he sat up, removed the helmet, and clenched his jaw against the pain as the probes detached from skull and spine. Blood followed, dripping onto his white uniform like blooming flowers.
He stood and got his bearings, then moved to a corner of the room. Pressing on a stone tile, he revealed a concealed door in the wall behind the platform. Inside the next room, a cryogenic machine hummed. He opened the lid, revealing a man frozen in liquid nitrogen and stabilizing agents. The sleeper wore a connector on his head as well. His hair was completely white now, but if Lin Xu were here—even if this man had turned to ash—he’d recognize him instantly.
Alfred Northumberland.
At that moment, Alfred was using Rowen’s memories and brain to think about Lin Xu. The true form of the Spiritual Monarch could not be captured on camera. Alfred had left those few photographs of Lin Xu for future generations as a reference—intended as a warning that the Monarch might return.
But instead… Lin Xu had. Alfred could tell the difference between Lin Xu and the Spiritual Monarch. And he was certain: what Rowen had seen was the real Lin Xu—the man who should have died before the Ark Fleet ever launched.
– –
The dictionary cross-referencing had mostly been completed, and the task Curator Zhao had assigned to Lin Xu was nearly done as well. With some free time on his hands, he retrieved wood shavings from the Rubik’s Cube and rust fragments from the fountain pen to conduct an age test.
The results came back: six hundred years. Lin Xu pressed his fingers to his brow. Artifacts left behind by the Empire had all been tampered with.
Six hundred years later, in addition to the Ancient Earth Natural Science Museum’s original holdings, a steady stream of private collections had been donated to various museums and research institutions. Modifying all of those artifacts would have been a massive undertaking.
Once scattered across the universe, these items would have been nearly impossible to track again. That meant the tampering had to have occurred before the artifacts were dispersed.
Given the Empire’s level of technology, Lin Xu speculated the modifications were likely carried out using some form of radiation or space-time manipulation. Before they were dispersed… A vast number of items… Ships! The Ark Fleet ships!
Lin Xu remembered that some scholars had conducted age tests on vessels from the Ark Fleet as well—those results had also come back as three thousand years. Back then, every artifact from ancient Earth had been loaded onto the fleet’s ships. If someone had modified the physical time-space properties of those ships all at once, that would have been sufficient.
Of all the Ark Fleet ships, only a few had been destroyed in wartime. The rest had been preserved as historical relics—but they weren’t housed in the Ancient Earth Natural Science Museum.
Their sheer size made them impossible to store there. Instead, they had been placed in the military exhibit hall adjacent to the Deep Blue Military Academy. That same exhibit hall was home to the Artifact Verification Bureau, responsible for maintaining the vessels and the items inside them.
Every now and then, the bureau would still discover small trinkets that Ark Fleet crew members had hidden in the ships. Because of that, the bureau remained active to this day. The Deep Blue Military Academy was located on another moon—Ares. Civilians were not permitted entry.
As soon as Lin Xu finished work, he contacted Zhou Pingbo, who arranged for a satellite shuttle to ferry him to the military exhibition site. When Lin Xu arrived, dressed in civilian clothes, the museum guide seemed mildly surprised but approached him politely.
“Sir, how may I help you?”
“I’m here to tour the exhibit,” Lin Xu said.
He didn’t have a clear plan of action—only the urgent need to find some clue that would lead him closer to the truth. Whoever wanted to bury the secret was either its creator or its beneficiary.
“Not many people visit here, do they?” he asked.
The guide, guessing Lin Xu was some kind of specialist invited by the military academy, smiled and explained, “Normally, we receive student groups from the academy, but management has been busy lately, and all tours were canceled this week. The place has been pretty quiet. Touring all the ships could take up to eight hours. Do you have a specific area you’re interested in?”
“Can I look inside the ships?” Lin Xu asked. “I heard the Verification Bureau already cleared out everything inside.”
The guide looked troubled. “Access to the interior requires authorization from the bureau. Normally they’d approve it, but… the bureau’s been facing some issues lately.”
“Issues?”
“Sir, come with me.”
The guide led him to a massive glass wall that stretched up three floors. Projected across the glass were faces and names. “These were the leaders of the Ark Fleet. They’ve become famous nobles over time, though some have vanished into the mists of the Empire’s three-thousand-year history.”
Lin Xu read the surnames: Arsen, Raymond, Paris, Chu, Corrier, Hill, Neumann…
“The names marked in blue are members of the current Verification Bureau. Positions there are… mostly hereditary.” Among the blue-marked names were Raymond, Paris, and Neumann.
“You’ve seen the news recently, haven’t you? You must’ve heard about the trouble they’re in.” The guide refrained from openly criticizing his superiors, but the implication was clear.
Lin Xu nodded. Lancer Raymond had indeed been targeted after the banquet. The Emperor hadn’t let him off the hook. On charges of conspiring against high-ranking Imperial officials, he had been brought before the Empire’s High Court and sentenced to exile. But Raymond had been the only one put on trial.
Lin Xu didn’t believe he had acted alone. Raymond didn’t have the authority to mobilize the palace guards and block the corridors—he must have relied on his family’s influence.
Lin Xu and Heinrich had planned to continue investigating, but the next day, news broke that the Raymond family’s patriarch had been charged with embezzlement and bribery, sentenced to imprisonment, and stripped of his noble title.
Other families had been investigated and sentenced as well—members of the Paris family, the Hall family… All of them matched the surnames of current Verification Bureau members. That couldn’t be a coincidence. All except for the Neumann family. Their current matriarch, Capricciosa Neumann, was the commander of the First Legion. She had been the one to expose the crimes. No one had dared to move against her—not yet.
