Bang!
As Ulasang slammed the dean's office door in the poets' faces, "Geya's diary," which he had thrown out along with them, scattered before their eyes like drifting snow.
Ashley and the poets crouched down to gather the pages, occasionally hearing their colleagues complain, "All that talk about doing it for the Academy-making all of us Kelhailong's accomplices is what would truly destroy the Academy."
"Everyone has their moment of glory. The nobility won't hold power forever. I refuse to believe Kelhailong can undermine the empire's foundations like this and never face retribution!"
"But if even the dean won't help, who else can we go through to present Geya's diary to His Majesty?"
Houston picked up the last page and said hesitantly, "Perhaps-the plan to submit the manuscript was never going to work in the first place?"
They exchanged looks, then turned to Houston. "What do you mean?"
Carefully recalling Dean Ulasang's furious scolding, Houston dusted off the manuscript. "The dean said documents submitted to His Majesty don't reach him unchanged. That means everything has to pass through layers of screening and control before it can possibly reach his hands. And as the empire's Arbitrator, Versace might already have forcibly taken over through various means, replacing all the officials who handle those documents along the way with Kelhailong's eyes and ears-
"Perhaps that's the real reason His Majesty said he could 'no longer hear genuine voices.'"
One poet couldn't help muttering, "So does the empire belong to Molten Gold or Kelhailong? His Majesty is less a sovereign now than a-puppet."
"His Majesty is already 110. He's lived longer than any of the previous kings. As a human, the fact that he can still maintain even basic mobility at his age is already thanks to the bloodline coursing through him."
Houston