It took King Soyluka almost three seconds to realize that these so-called "Original Color rebels" probably referred to the several rebel groups that had studied "the Original" inside out.
Then the memories from the dream began tormenting him again. He nearly put on a look of utter misery.
But this wasn't my fault! There's no point in looking at me like that! I could take responsibility for the rebel groups in the dream, but what did they have to do with me in real life? Brunhilde felt helpless under General Hule's gaze.
Giafield asked, "So His Majesty is actually more interested in commercial and cultural exchanges between us and the Alliance? Is that right?"
General Hule nodded with a wry smile. "...Although His Majesty has achieved great military success, he truly hopes to work toward closer and broader cultural exchanges with the other half of the universe."
He was trying very hard to be diplomatic. But in truth, as a typical Tiriro elite official who spent much of his time traveling between the Celestial Domain and the royal demesne, what he really wanted to say was that the emperor seemed to have lost interest in serious affairs of state and military matters.
Given General Hule's meticulous and earnest nature, if the throne weren't occupied by an old monster who had ruled the empire for two hundred years, he might already have been entertaining thoughts that bordered on lèse-majesté.
"Of course, this also suits His Majesty's personal interests," he added.
"As if the war had never broken out." Giafield's voice held a trace of displeasure.
Ostana glanced at her close colleague and friend, her eyes full of admiration. In the vast Galactic Empire, few dared to show their displeasure toward the emperor who had sat on the throne for more than