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Chapter 198: The Willful Red Dragon Emperor
🕑 Added 2025-01-13 03:34:00 +0000 UTCCharlot Mecklenburg almost suspected that His Majesty was a fellow transmigrator like himself, but this thought was quickly dispelled when the Emperor began recounting some past events—specifically, stories of Charlot Mecklenburg's romantic escapades.
Charlot let out a deep breath, feeling less anxious.
Of all his concerns, Charlot feared most that his identity as a transmigrator would be discovered. His second greatest fear was that someone might uncover the fact that he had once summoned an evil god. As for the tales of Charlot Mecklenburg’s youthful indiscretions, those were only his third concern.
Even if those stories were brought to light, the worst that could happen was some impact on his marital prospects.
Although losing Annie Bretagne would make him incredibly sorrowful...
He reminded himself that since he had already crossed into a new world, such minor setbacks were bearable.
As Emperor Alfred Guillaume grew increasingly animated in his storytelling, Earl Ebner Soumet managed to maintain his composure, already familiar with these tales. Meanwhile, Aurora Soumet’s eyes grew brighter and brighter. She glanced back at Charlot with a raised brow, silently asking for confirmation.
Charlot spread his hands in resignation, tacitly admitting to it.
Aurora nodded in understanding, though what she thought of the situation remained unclear. The atmosphere grew inexplicably peculiar.
Looking at this young Red Dragon Emperor of the Ingrima Empire, Charlot realized after only a few minutes of conversation what kind of person this ruler was: a guileless, excitable youth who couldn't keep secrets.
Emperor Alfred Guillaume, his enthusiasm unabated, eventually requested a glass of champagne, which was promptly handed to him by a palace attendant. After taking a hearty gulp, he declared, "Every time I read the intelligence sent by our spies in the Fars Empire, I feel so envious of you."
“Was that baroness really beautiful?” he asked.
Charlot replied, “Very beautiful.”
The Emperor pressed on, “And what about Mrs. Yanmills... I mean, Sophie Bretagne? Was she stunning as well?”
This time, Charlot refrained from answering directly and merely said in a subdued tone, “She has passed on, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor paused. As one of the most powerful rulers on the continent, he had little concept of respecting the deceased. Nevertheless, he moved on without dwelling on it, asking about the appearances of several other women. Charlot answered with detached simplicity, which left the Emperor visibly pleased.
Observing the young Emperor's satisfied expression, Charlot couldn’t help but compare him to internet users back on Earth—those readers of serialized "little emperor" novels who voraciously consumed such gossip. Although Charlot refrained from embellishing any of the stories with detailed anecdotes, the Emperor’s vivid imagination filled in the gaps.
At one point, Charlot was tempted to recite Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves on the spot.
But then he recalled how Fan Xian once recited Dream of the Red Chamber after transmigrating. Considering his own material wasn’t nearly as sophisticated, he decided against introducing Earth’s literature to this setting.
Though Charlot couldn’t share Earth’s cultural heritage with this youthful Emperor in the Ingrima royal palace, he still managed to leave a favorable impression.
Where this inexplicable goodwill originated was anyone’s guess.
After interrogating Charlot on various topics, Alfred Guillaume suddenly shifted gears, speaking rapidly. “Your mission to the Ingrima Empire is a meritorious one. As Emperor of the Ingrima Empire, I hereby grant you the position of first-class civil servant of the twenty-fourth rank and assign you as an archival officer at the Red Dragon Palace. Additionally, I’ll bestow upon you a residence in Britain. Where would you prefer it to be?”
Charlot quickly replied, “I prefer somewhere near rivers or the sea, where I can enjoy Britain’s culture.”
The Emperor smiled faintly. “As it happens, the royal family owns an abandoned riverside garden. It shall be yours.”
Charlot was taken aback. He hadn’t even begun addressing the official matters of his mission, yet his past romantic escapades alone had earned him such substantial rewards.
Back in the Fars Empire, it would have taken him countless years of hard work to ascend to the twenty-fourth rank—a milestone considered insurmountable. Here, a single audience with the Emperor had achieved that and more.
Whether this position fell under the jurisdiction of the Fars Empire or the Ingrima Empire was of little importance. After all, the salary would be paid in British pounds and shillings instead of Farsian florins.
Earl Soumet, noticing that the Emperor had finally stopped discussing Charlot’s awkward past, cleared his throat lightly and said, “Mr. Mecklenburg’s document offers remarkable insights, Your Majesty. My recommendation is to form an alliance with the Fars Empire without delay.”
“We must curb the expansion of the vampire factions. A dominant Byron Empire does not align with our interests.”
The Emperor, regaining a measure of his imperial dignity, replied, “I’ve already discussed this matter with several ministers. Their views align with yours, Earl Soumet. I approve of signing the alliance.”
A palace official pushed forward a cart carrying over a dozen documents before quietly withdrawing.
The Emperor declared, “These are the agreements drafted by our Ingrima Empire’s senior officials. Charlot Mecklenburg, as an archival officer, you may review them. If there are no objections, you may sign them.”
Charlot was taken aback. “Shouldn’t the High Priest Auguslatin sign these?”
Earl Soumet explained, “Mr. Mecklenburg, as the lowest-ranking diplomatic officer, you are authorized to sign national treaties.”
With the Emperor and Earl Soumet urging him on, Charlot flipped through the documents but failed to discern any significant issues. Realizing he had no other choice, he gritted his teeth and signed all of them.
In the end, even if something went wrong, the name Charlot Mecklenburg might go down in infamy. But after all, when his eyes finally closed, it wouldn’t be his problem anymore.
Once Charlot finished signing, the agreements were sealed under the witness of the Emperor and the Foreign Minister. Yet another cart of documents was brought forward—these for the royal archives—followed by a third cart, intended for the Ingrima administrative ministers.
Charlot felt like a niche novelist whose works weren’t particularly successful, yet the publisher insisted on collecting five thousand signed copies, ensuring there were no unsigned editions in circulation. By the end of the night, he had signed so many documents that his wrist ached.
The Emperor, of course, had long since retired to his chambers. Even Earl Soumet and Aurora had gone to their designated guest rooms in the palace. Only Charlot remained, slogging through what felt like an endless night of bureaucratic torment.
By the time he finally completed the last signature at noon the next day, five copies of the agreements were handed to him for delivery to the Fars Empire.
When a well-rested Earl Soumet arrived to escort Charlot out of the Red Dragon Palace, Charlot’s first question was, “Earl Soumet, may I return to Embassy Street first?”
He desperately needed sleep. Even with his extraordinary abilities, the young Red Dragon Emperor’s relentless demands had left him utterly exhausted.
Earl Soumet smiled faintly. “Of course. I’ll arrange a carriage to take you there.”
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