A few days later, at the construction site in the slums.
Lacey had just climbed out of a trench that was deeper than a man is tall.
He pulled off his coarse, mud-caked shirt, revealing a well-built torso. Sweat trickled down the lines of his muscles, a sight that made Serafina, who was standing nearby, blush crimson.
"Chief! Have a drink!" Taylor the blacksmith's booming voice came from the side as he tossed over a waterskin.
Lacey caught it with one hand, twisted off the cap, and tilted his head back, downing several large gulps.
"Damn it, I can't believe you're the one leading this work," Taylor said, walking over and plopping himself down on a nearby pile of dirt, his own head drenched in sweat.
"I've lived more than forty years. I've seen lords, I've seen military officers, I've seen those masters who spew righteousness and morality, but I've never seen a single big shot get down in the dirt to dig a sewer with his own hands."
"I'm no big shot," Lacey said with a smile, wiping the muddy water from his face with his sleeve.
The surrounding workers, hearing their conversation, all broke into good-natured laughter.
Over the past few days, they had grown accustomed to this legendary leader working alongside them, eating with them, and even cracking dirty jokes with them during breaks.
The feeling was strange; it made them feel that Lacey wasn't some high-and-mighty leader, but more like a trustworthy big brother.
It was for this very reason that when he proposed some plans that seemed rather fanciful to the workers, like building public toilets and a sewage system, everyone was willing to follow his lead, even if they didn't fully understand.
Because they had seen with their own eyes that Lacey was the first to pick up a shovel.
Just then, a young member of the Workers' Party hurried to Lacey's side and whispered a few words in his ear.
The smile vanished from Lacey's face. He nodded and said to Taylor, "Taylor, I'm leaving this to you for now. I have something to take care of."
"Don't you worry, Chief!" Taylor slapped his chest in assurance.
...
Salem, in the study of the Count's manor.
Count Leinia held a glass of red wine, looking with great interest through the floor-to-ceiling window at the bustling construction site in the distant slums.
Her butler, Hermann, stood ramrod straight three paces behind her.
"What an interesting man," she said, swirling the wine in her glass.
"Instead of paying a visit to me, the Count, he runs off to the slums to dig sewers with a bunch of mud-legs for three days."
"Hermann, what do you think he's up to? Putting on a show for that rabble? Does he really think he can buy their loyalty with such a cheap gesture?"
The butler Hermann bowed and replied, "My lady, I believe Mr. Lacey may be consolidating his foundation."
"After all, that rabble is the source of his power. Mr. Lacey is not a noble; he has no family or fiefdom. He can only rely on such actions to gain their support."
"Support?" Leinia let out a soft laugh, turned, and placed her teacup on the desk beside her.
"The support of a disorganized mob—what is that worth?"
Her gaze fell upon a newly delivered intelligence report on the desk.
"Her Majesty, the Empress, has commended Chief Judge Alistair, praising his verdict as wise."
Leinia picked up the paper with her long, slender fingers and said playfully, "Hermann, what's your take on this?"
The butler was silent for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts. "Does this mean... Her Majesty, the Empress, is also tacitly approving of Mr. Lacey's actions?"
Leinia didn't answer directly. Instead, she asked, "Who was it that put our Empresses on that throne?"
"It was... the Lord Electors."
"Correct. They were the weapon chosen by the Electors to overthrow the Witch King's rule."
"After a weapon has fulfilled its purpose, what do you think becomes of its situation?"
Hermann's breath caught slightly. He did not answer, but the answer was self-evident.
"How similar their situation is to that girl Gertrude in Wischeim," Leinia observed with perfect clarity.
"Her father was murdered, her family's fortune coveted, hampered by an incompetent brother from within and stalked by predatory enemies from without."
"They both sit in positions that seem glorious but are, in fact, beds of nails, surrounded by enemies both internal and external."
She turned her head, looked at her butler who had just had an epiphany, and said with a smile, "At a time like this, a variable like Lacey appears. Tell me, what do you think our Empresses will do?"
"She will... use him," Hermann finally understood. "Use him to deal with the entrenched old nobility, use him to disrupt the Electors' chessboard."
"It seems Her Majesty's thinking aligns with your own," the butler added.
"No, there's still a difference," Leinia said, shaking her head.
As soon as she finished speaking, a servant entered silently, holding a calling card with both hands and presenting it respectfully.
"My lady, the leader of the Leithanien Workers' Party, Mr. Lacey, requests a meeting with you."
Leinia took the card and smiled.
"Tell him I will be right there."
...
The atmosphere of the meeting was surprisingly congenial.
There were no sharp confrontations, no war of words.
Count Leinia demonstrated the skill of a seasoned politician. She lavished praise on Lacey's outstanding contributions to improving the slums and offered to provide a batch of material aid to the Workers' Party's school and clinic in her name as the Count.
Lacey returned the favor. He thanked the Count for her generosity and stated that the Workers' Party was willing to assist the City Guard in jointly maintaining order in Salem, especially in restraining the poor who might turn to desperate measures due to hardship.
The two went back and forth like old partners who had worked together for years, arranging the various affairs of Salem with perfect clarity.
Only at the very end did Count Leinia reveal her true intentions.
"Mr. Lacey, your talents should not be confined to the slums," she said, elegantly lifting her teacup.
"The position of Deputy Tax Collector that I previously offered is still available."
"If you just nod, you can take up the post tomorrow."
"This will be your first step into the heart of power in Salem, and indeed, in all of Leithanien."
Hearing this, Lacey smiled inwardly, but his face showed the perfect amount of difficulty.
"Thank you for your kindness, my lady."
"But as you know, I represent the entire Workers' Party, tens of thousands of common people. I'm afraid the position of a single Deputy Tax Collector cannot meet their expectations."
"Oh? And what are their expectations?" Leinia asked with interest.
Lacey fell silent for a moment, then lifted his head. His gaze burned as he looked at her and said, word by word:
"What we want is not a specific position, but a seat in the National Parliament with enough weight to be our voice, such as... an Elector."
"*Pfft—cough, cough!*"
Even for Count Leinia, who had weathered many storms, Lacey's words made her choke.
She began to cough violently, losing all her composure.
"What... did you say?" she asked, unable to believe her ears. "You want to become an Elector? Are you insane?"
"Do you even know what that is? It is the bedrock of power in Leithanien! An honor passed down through the nine most ancient families for nearly a thousand years! And you, a commoner..."
"Why not?" Lacey retorted calmly. "The Witch King can be overthrown, the Empresses can be crowned anew, so why can't an Elector who only knows how to oppress the common people be replaced by someone who can bring new life to the nation?"
He leaned forward slightly, his voice filled with a persuasive power:
"My lady, are you truly content to be confined to Salem for the rest of your life, watching those people lord it over you?"
"You have ambition, you have ability. What you lack is merely an opportunity, a fulcrum to shatter the current order."
"And I, along with my Workers' Party, am that fulcrum."
"Support me. Help me become an Elector, and when that day comes, I will be more than just your ally."
A fire burned in Lacey's eyes, a fire that made even Leinia's heart palpitate.
"I will be the most fatal weapon in your hands."
The entire reception hall fell into a deathly silence.
Count Leinia stared fixedly at Lacey, as if trying to see right through him.
She saw the ambition in his eyes—an ambition purer and far grander than her own, an ambition that even frightened her.
This man didn't want to be an official, nor did he want to be a noble.
What he wanted was to turn the whole world upside down.
After a long while, a devastatingly beautiful smile slowly bloomed on Count Leinia's face.
"Madman," she whispered, but her tone was filled with irrepressible excitement.
"An Elector... Do you know how many people have had that idea since the Twin Empresses were crowned, and how many of them had their families destroyed for it?"
"They were they, and I am I," Lacey stated calmly.
"What they wanted was to sit in that seat and enjoy its power. What I want is to flip over the table and rewrite the rules."
Leinia's smile faded. She sat back down on the sofa, sizing up the man before her with a scrutinizing gaze.
He was too calm, terrifyingly so.
That certainty, as if he had already foreseen the future, sent a chill down the spine of even a veteran like her, who had been steeped in political intrigue for years.
"I am very interested in your proposal," Leinia's ruby lips parted after a long pause.
"However, an Elector... that is too distant."
"We need some more practical cooperation to begin our friendship."
"Of course," Lacey nodded.
"The development of the Workers' Party cannot happen without your support."
"And a stable and prosperous Salem also serves your interests. I believe that on this point, we are the best of allies."
"Very good." Leinia nodded in satisfaction. She stood up and proactively extended her hand to Lacey. "In that case, Mr. Lacey, here's to our pleasant cooperation. The future of Salem is in our hands."
Their two hands clasped together.
________________________________________
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