Chapter 175: Chapter-175

Stifled giggles erupted.

Heena and Secretary Chen had barely made it a bit down the corridor from the council chamber when the sounds of absolute chaos erupted behind them.

’CRASH! SPLAT! THWACK!’

“MY EYES! THE INK IS IN MY EYES!”

’THUD THUD THUD’

“STOP THROWING SO MANY AT ONCE!”

Heena stopped walking, tilted her head to listen, and then—

She burst into laughter.

Not her usual controlled, dignified chuckle. Full, genuine, unrestrained laughter that echoed through the hallway and made her lean against the wall for support.

Secretary Chen looked at her with barely concealed delight, clearly thrilled that his Empress was enjoying his favorite entertainment as much as he was.

“Your Majesty,” he said, trying to sound professional, “you seem… amused.”

“Amused?” Heena gasped between laughs. “Chen, I’m ’delighted’. This is the best decision I’ve made all month.”

Of course she’d known this would happen. She’d ’planned’ for this to happen.

After all, what kind of idiot would hang a portrait of the previous Empress in the council chamber where nobles regularly lost their tempers?

Oh, right. ’Her’. She’d ordered it hung there specifically last week.

She’d been tired of these bastards constantly shouting at each other, accomplishing nothing, wasting everyone’s time with their petty arguments and family feuds. So she’d decided they needed to learn a lesson.

But she couldn’t just ’punish’ them directly—these were seasoned nobles with powerful families, protected by tradition and protocol. She needed them to punish ’themselves’.

Hence: the portrait. The chaos. The “game.”

It was unfortunate that she’d had to sacrifice the previous Empress’s portrait, but honestly, she had like fifty more of them in storage. The old woman had been ridiculously vain and commissioned a new portrait every year.

One less wouldn’t hurt.

Secretary Chen looked at Heena with knowing eyes.

“Your Majesty,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips, “you know that if the previous Empress were alive, she would have whipped you alive for using her portrait as bait, right?”

Heena looked back at him with a grin.

“Well,” she said, “if the previous ’Emperor’ were alive, he would have already fried ’you’ in hot oil for shouting about ink and slippers with such enthusiasm. Did you forget that it was ’your’ voice echoing through the corridors announcing the supplies?”

Secretary Chen paused, considered this, and then shrugged philosophically.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose that makes us equal. Like master, like servant.”

“Exactly,” Heena agreed.

They continued walking toward her office, the sounds of noble warfare gradually fading behind them.

—

Two hours later, when the doors finally opened and the ink-soaked, slipper-marked nobles stumbled out looking like they’d survived a war, Heena reviewed the results with great satisfaction.

But then one of her shadow knights—the intelligence operatives who reported directly to her—appeared with an interesting piece of information.

“Your Majesty,” the knight said, bowing, “there was… one survivor.”

Heena’s eyebrows rose. “One?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. One noble emerged completely clean. Not a single drop of ink. Not a single slipper mark.”

“Who?” Heena demanded, genuinely surprised.

“Lord Pemberton.”

Heena stared. “The 73-year-old man who started the slipper-throwing in the first place? The one who can barely walk without his cane? ’That’ Lord Pemberton?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“How?” Heena asked, completely baffled. “How did that old bastard who looks like he has one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel survive a two-hour battle with fifty other nobles throwing things at him?”

The shadow knight’s lips twitched with barely suppressed amusement.

“Your Majesty… he climbed to the ceiling.”

Heena blinked. “He ’what’?”

“He climbed to the ceiling,” the knight repeated. “According to witnesses, the moment the doors locked, Lord Pemberton ran—actually ’ran’, Your Majesty—to the storage cabinets along the wall. He climbed onto them, jumped with remarkable height for a man his age, and grabbed onto the chandelier.”

“The chandelier,” Heena repeated flatly.

“Yes, Your Majesty. The large crystal chandelier in the center of the council chamber. Which hangs approximately nine to ten feet above the floor.”

“And then what?”

“And then he climbed ’on top of it’, Your Majesty. He perched up there like a—like a—”

“Like a gargoyle,” Secretary Chen supplied helpfully, having appeared to listen to this report.

“Yes,” the shadow knight agreed. “Like a gargoyle. And he stayed there for the entire two hours. No matter how many ink pots or slippers were thrown at him, he dodged them all from his elevated position.”

Heena stood there in stunned silence for a long moment.

Then she started laughing again.

“That old fox!” she exclaimed. “That absolute ’legend’! How does he even—what does he ’eat’ to have that kind of strength and agility?!”

“I believe Lord Pemberton was a decorated military commander in his youth, Your Majesty,” Secretary Chen said. “Seven wars, multiple campaigns. Apparently he still trains daily.”

“He tells everyone he’s dying!” Heena protested. “Every council meeting, he complains about his aching bones and his failing health and how he’ll probably be dead by next week!”

“Strategic deception, Your Majesty,” the shadow knight said with clear admiration. “Everyone underestimates him.”

“Apparently!” Heena shook her head in disbelief. “A 73-year-old man jumped ’nine feet’ in the air, grabbed a chandelier, climbed on top of it, and survived a two-hour ink-and-slipper war from that position.”

She paused, then added, “I’m actually impressed. That’s genuinely impressive.”

“So will Lord Pemberton be exempt from the family investigation, Your Majesty?” Secretary Chen asked. “Since he technically won the game?”

Heena considered this.

On one hand, she’d said the cleanest person would be allowed to leave with no consequences.

On the other hand, Lord Pemberton had been the one to ’start’ the slipper-throwing chaos in the first place.

“No,” she said finally. “He gets investigated anyway.”

“Your Majesty, that’s not fair—” Secretary Chen started.

“Fair?” Heena interrupted. “He threw the ’first slipper’. He started this entire mess. Just because he’s clever enough to survive his own chaos doesn’t mean he’s innocent.”

She smiled wickedly.

“But,” she added, “inform Lord Pemberton that I’m impressed by his survival skills. His investigation will be… less thorough than the others. Only five generations back instead of ten.”

“Generous, Your Majesty,” Secretary Chen said dryly.

“I’m in a good mood,” Heena replied. “Any man who can climb a chandelier at seventy-three deserves some recognition.”

The shadow knight bowed and left to deliver the news.

Secretary Chen looked at Heena with amusement.

“Your Majesty, I have to ask—did you ’really’ not know Lord Pemberton was still that capable?”

“Of course I knew,” Heena said. “I read all their files. But I genuinely didn’t think he’d have the audacity to climb the chandelier. I thought he’d just hide under the table or something.”

“So this was a pleasant surprise?”

“This was ’hilarious’,” Heena corrected. “I wish I’d been in the room to watch. Can you imagine? All these nobles throwing ink and slippers at each other, and there’s Lord Pemberton perched on the chandelier like some kind of elderly acrobat, dodging projectiles and probably laughing at everyone?”

“The servants who cleaned the room said the chandelier was swinging quite dramatically by the end,” Secretary Chen offered. “Apparently Lord Pemberton was using the momentum to dodge throws.”

Heena had to sit down, she was laughing so hard.

“I love it,” she said. “I genuinely love everything about this. Best council meeting ever.”

“Shall I schedule another one soon, Your Majesty?”

“Absolutely not,” Heena said immediately. “This was a one-time lesson. If I do this regularly, they’ll expect it and prepare. The element of surprise was crucial.”

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