Prologue: The Exiled Regent

The Roman Empire, Year 004 of the Imperial Calendar, Year 1404 of the World Calendar. The Judgment Square in the capital of the Roman Empire.

“The Kagard Massacre, the Smog Incident prompted by the illegal use of mass destruction weapons in civilian areas, providing asylum to elves and vampires, heretics, and atheists, blasphemy against the gods and faith, squandering resources on slums and refugees, brainwashing the future queen… Hereby proclaimed, for the aforementioned charges, Yang Hao, the current Regent of the Roman Empire, will be stripped of his position jointly by the Holy Court of Light, the Supreme Court of the Empire, the House of Nobility, the Landowners Council, the House of Commons, and the Military Court. Moreover, the Workers’ Union, the Red Cross, and other such irrelevant public welfare organizations under his name will be immediately disbanded.”

Yang Hao, the former regent, watched the people on stage with an impassive expression. He was dressed in humble attire and covered in the slime of rotten eggs and tomatoes.

“Mr. Yang Hao, do you have anything to say?”

The chief judge, full of sympathy, knew that the charges were contrived by disgruntled nobles, believers, landowners, military leaders, and even royalty. Their motivation was merely to tarnish his reputation.

She hoped that the regent, a beacon of hope to humanity, would exhibit a hint of protest or discontent. If he did, she would then go to great lengths to absolve him while still abiding by the contract. To her disappointment, Yang Hao stood unmoved.

“I have no objections.”

His response was cold, his eyes filled with disappointment and exhaustion.

‘Perhaps the time has come to let go. There’s no longer any reason to hold onto my dedication to a nation that has consumed half my youth. Rather than grappling with the defamations, it’s better to detach myself and preserve some peace of mind. What a shame, after all my contributions to this fledgling empire, I’ve been betrayed by a pack of scoundrels. Truly, humans are an unreliable species.’ Yang Hao, filled with disillusionment, thought quietly to himself.

The chief judge fell silent for a while.

With her bitter green eyes, she watched the man. He was disheveled yet unbowed, her cherry lips flatly oscillating.

“I hereby sentence the former regent, Yang Hao, due to the charges mentioned, stripped of… stripped of his imperial citizenship… stripped of all political rights… stripped of…”

The chief judge iterated numerous ‘stripped of’ statements, but in the end, she took a deep breath as her eyes fell upon the words ‘capital punishment’ on the prepared official documents.

“Lastly, considering the previous contributions made by the convicted to the Human Empire, I, as the chief judge, reduce his sentence. The convicted shall be punished with exile. Do you have any objections?”

The Judgment Square fell silent. Then burst into an uproar the next moment. Everyone was shouting, “Let him die.” 

Not a single person spoke up for him, despite his efforts to ensure the empire’s poor could eat bread daily.

The representatives of the nobility looked at her with dangerous eyes. But the chief judge stood her ground, striking the gavel representing silence with an air of proud indifference.

Switching the death penalty to exile was the last thing the chief judge did for him, even if it meant jeopardizing her own future.

***

Within his prison cell, Yang Hao donned his final piece of civilian clothes, carrying a self-designed briefcase. Expressionless, he navigated the streets, guarded by soldiers escorting him towards the city gates. Their presence was to prevent his untimely death before he could escape the capital.

All around them was a swarm of outraged commoners. Among them were refugees and the impoverished, beneficiaries of Yang Hao’s previous policies. They had showered him with gratitude when receiving aid, but now that Yang Hao had fallen from power, they joined the mob with rotten eggs, tomatoes, and stones in hand.

“Butcher! Kagard’s butcher!”

“The monster who experimented on my friend! Scum! Liar! We trusted you!”

“Cultist! You deserve the stake!”

Each cry echoed the same sentiment–his death. No one dared to defend him.

It was ironically comical that his protectors were the very soldiers of the military he had oppressed for years. Yang Hao scorned inwardly, questioning whether the ‘people’ he had strived to protect for years were truly human or merely animals bearing that name. Even animals understood gratitude better.

The splatter of a rotten egg on a guard’s shield broke his thoughts. The repulsive liquid coated his hair, followed by a barrage of tomatoes and shards of shattered stones. Through the gaps in the shields, Yang Hao watched workers dismantle guild buildings he had commissioned for their welfare. He clenched the handle of his briefcase, gritting his teeth in disbelief. Even rabbits knew not to damage their surroundings.

Through another gap, he saw medical personnel from the Red Cross, ousted like him. Dressed in their white robes and sanitary masks, they squatted on the ground as the jubilant peasants ransacked the hospital. Even the sterile tiles, sparingly made with silver, were not spared.

‘Barbarians,’ he thought, ‘do they not understand that the Red Cross’s efforts have kept them safe during flu season?’

Fury ignited within Yang Hao, his clenched fist unaware of the flesh his nails dug into. What pushed him into a state of tranquil despair was the sight of followers of the Bright Temple, or the Church of Light, burning educational textbooks in a brazen pyre.

There was no reason to stay attached to this nation. Amid a hail of rotten eggs and tomatoes, he stepped out of the capital gates with this thought. 

An indifferent guard shoved him, causing him to stumble on the stone-paved national road, a product of his own policies.

“Move. You have one year to leave the borders of the Roman Empire. After that, we better not find you within the empire. Move.”

Without uttering a word, Yang Hao trod onward, heading toward the road’s end.

In his wake, the ‘Unified World’ plan, powerful enough to eradicate neighboring races, lay discarded in the Regent’s office trash bin.

The cleaner did not deem the document worthy of a shredder or fire for confidentiality. And a year later, it was unearthed by elven scouts from a landfill, treated as a valuable relic, and delivered to Elf Queen Fen.