The Great Demon Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 57: The Transition Ceremony

[The Holy Love Day will officially begin on the first weekend of next month. The government, after deliberation, has decided to announce this news to the public at the end of this month in London. As always, the servants of the Temple of Light will not reveal the identity of the Holy Maiden.]

...

[Last week, the Crusader Army broke through the 314th Gorge on the Antarctic continent and occupied a 220,000 square meter absolutely secure area atop Mount Chidel. It is expected that a new stronghold will be established within the next three months.]

...

[The Life Science Academy's methods for further controlling demons are still in the experimental stage. This research has spanned 20 years, and the cost, after conversion, has exceeded 70 billion common currency, but the budget is still gradually increasing. Seven consortia in the Mecolier District have decided to withdraw their investments this year.]

... None of the above information was something the residents of this small town were entitled to know, yet it was played word for word from an old-fashioned tape recorder, without even a deliberate attempt to lower the volume.

In a small town like this, even if someone heard this information, they wouldn't understand it; even if they did, they wouldn't believe it; and even if they did believe it… there was nothing they could do.

These people, already in their twilight years, had long since left this era behind. The only reason they were still alive was that their children didn't want them to die yet.

The old man sat at the table, listening quietly to the information, his gaze fixed on the window. Perhaps he was thinking, or perhaps he was simply daydreaming. After a while, the radio emitted a busy tone, indicating that the entire record had finished playing.

The old fisherman snapped out of his reverie, looking at the young postman still standing at the door with the utmost military posture, and couldn't help but smile: "Still a little nervous?" The postman immediately straightened up and replied, "Reporting, General, a little!" How could he not be nervous facing a monument to an empire?

The old man understood the young man's mindset, so he could only shake his head and point to the other side of the table: "Sit down. You've been delivering mail in town for four years; you see me almost every day. What's there to be nervous about? And don't call me General anymore. It sounds like I'm still on the battlefield, not retired."

General… After the gates of hell opened, the empire inevitably saw many generals, but there was always one whose title shone brighter than anyone else's.

However, this general was old. He no longer wanted to be called a general. At the moment he retired from the army, he sincerely hoped that the world would truly see him as an ordinary citizen of the empire, and that he would simply be addressed by his name.

However… his name also carried too much glory.

So much so that when people pronounced the name 'Dante,' they would unconsciously add the word 'Sir' after it, otherwise they would feel they were not being respectful enough.

The postman tried to appear as at ease as possible, but sitting before Lord Dante, he couldn't help but keep his back straight. Fortunately, his control over tone and expression was adequate, so he smiled seemingly naturally and said:

"I really enjoy the leisurely atmosphere of this town… After all these years, do you still think of the battlefield?"

"Heh, you and I both know this leisure is just an illusion." The old man poured himself a cup of tea, pushed it towards the postman, and then poured one for himself:

"Although everything seems fine, all the residents here were carefully selected before being relocated. The government certainly put in a lot of effort to find people all over the world who don't recognize me;

And the shops on the street, the service in the restaurants…" "These people are clearly actors sent to serve me. Even if their acting is superb, fake is fake, and I'm not so oblivious as to not see through them.

I'm old, I don't like to move around, and I won't wander off anymore, but this town hasn't seen a real stranger in years… To the Empire and the Papacy, I'm ultimately just a living myth, wrapped in a veneer and sold to the world." The old man spoke half-heartedly, but the Crusader soldier across the table, a postman for many years, was pounding with anxiety, constantly wondering if these words hinted at Dante's dissatisfaction with the Papacy's arrangements, his resentment towards the Imperial government, and whether he was already displeased. Should he report these things to his superiors immediately?

"Alright, alright." The old man, perhaps sensing the turmoil brewing in the young man's heart, chuckled and pressed his palm down. "I'm just an old man, just rambling on a bit. No need for such a grand report.

By the way, did the Holy Gazette still not publish any information about the Emperor this time?"

"No." The postman didn't even dare to think further, immediately suppressing all his thoughts and answering very formally.

The old man looked at the water swirling in his teacup, unable to escape the rim, and sighed:

"Alas, the Emperor's power is ultimately too great. Even the succession of the same bloodline has to be like a contest."

Then he took a small sip:

"The [Transfer of Throne Ceremony] will be held again at the end of the year, won't it? Who will be chosen this time?"

The Transfer of Throne Ceremony is a rule for the 'change of the throne' established since the Felti royal family unified the empire; it is quite simple.

That is… the next successor must present a political strategy, military plan, or a promising reform program that surpasses the current emperor's. In short, you must improve the empire to inherit the throne; otherwise, the current emperor retains all his rights until a suitable successor emerges.

Don't be fooled by how crude and ridiculous this method of succession may seem on the surface; it contains immense wisdom. The first emperor had already grasped the essence of power: power ultimately drives people mad, and this can never be changed.

Therefore, instead of suppressing humanity's greed and yearning for power, he chose to exploit it!

You want power? You're willing to go mad for power? Then make the empire better, channel all your madness into it, and if you can do it, the throne will be yours without hesitation!

Throughout the empire, the three independent subordinate institutions—the House of Representatives, the Elders, and all the empire's power structures—all have the right to judge the successor.

Regardless of the intrigue and bloodshed that followed, the empire had undeniably progressed in a positive direction over the centuries.

However, this system had its drawbacks: if a remarkably brilliant emperor emerged, and no one could surpass him for decades, wouldn't the throne remain untouched for decades?

The current emperor, Augustine the Great, seemed to be such a figure… He was simply too perfect, resulting in him presenting, at each coronation ceremony, a bill, or even several bills, that completely overwhelmed the successor.

This had been going on for 60 years.

It was anyone's guess who would challenge the strongest emperor in modern history this time…

“It’s a man named Franklin,” the postman replied respectfully. “He’s a distant relative of the Felty family, almost 50 years old. I’ve heard he’s been pushing for the redevelopment of electricity as a new energy source. He has a highly educated background, but his reputation among the common people doesn’t seem very high.”