In Broad Daylight

Throughout history, every royal heir, whenever possible, was expected to possess a tall, robust physique, symmetrical features, and clear speech. Any deficiency in these fundamental qualities would render them unfit to hold the throne.

The reason was simple: physical imperfections undermined their authority to command respect.

Much like the present-day Nat Empire, the brainwashed lower classes believed they were born commoners destined to serve the nobility. They were taught that nobles possessed different blood—they were the favored children of the gods. Commoners were told that by diligently serving these divine children, they would ascend to heaven, where bread would be endless and wine would flow forever.

This is also the deepest secret behind why the royal family has always avoided completely severing ties with the Temple—because doing so allows them to continue enslaving the commoners, which benefits their rule.

The rest is mere chatter, but mentioning these points serves to illustrate one crucial truth: the king's speeches, in the nation of Nat—no, across the entire continent—are in fact a vital tool for maintaining rule.

Of course, in the earliest days, kings primarily fought alongside their knights on the battlefield. Those speeches were impassioned addresses meant to inspire their knights to battle. But later, as the economy developed and wars became less frequent, this tradition gradually transformed into an internal address delivered by the king during the annual banquet hosted for his officials.

It bore some resemblance to modern Western presidents delivering speeches at state dinners, where the audience comprised prominent dignitaries.

But this time, Her Majesty Josephine addressed more than just the elite. Dressed in imperial robes, she stepped from her carriage and stood at the entrance, ready to speak. Before her, of course, sat a crowd of eager supporters who had come to hear her words.

At the outer perimeter, any citizen of the imperial city could freely listen to Her Majesty's address.

Her Majesty Josephine's speech was profoundly moving. She began by stating the death tolls at the Temple and the relief center, then focused on the recovery rates for both mild and severe cases. After starkly exposing the Temple's failures, she earnestly pledged substantial funding for medical advancement to benefit all.

Not only did she seize this opportunity to introduce modern medical concepts and explain the causes of illness to the public amidst the plague crisis, but Her Majesty also repeatedly found chances to criticize the Temple, angrily rebuking them: I, Josephine Natt, hold profound reverence for the Divine. I am a devout child of the Divine, and I believe it was the Divine's will that led me to discover the medicine and methods capable of saving all. Yet I question: why, despite the Temple's daily prayers, did they fail to discover the life-saving remedy right under their noses?"

These words of divine decree instantly sowed doubt among the people—Indeed, why? Nobles are the favored children of the gods, and royalty are those entrusted by the divine to shepherd their flock. Therefore, Her Majesty Josephine's discovery of the plague cure must surely be the will of the gods. Then... why did the Temple fail to discover it?

Through repeated comparisons and careful guidance, the crowd began to waver.

Finally, Her Majesty Josephine smiled and announced, "Now I shall introduce a gentleman who has consistently supported Doctor Charlemagne." Tang Feiliu took a deep breath behind the scenes. He had rehearsed this part extensively yesterday. Truthfully, Tang Feiliu had no desire to stand in such a position, under everyone's intense scrutiny. Yet Edward had persistently encouraged him, and even Alexander had earnestly analyzed his situation. What he was doing now had likely already taken root in the Temple's mind. Tang Feiliu absolutely could not yield to the Temple—behind him lay countless lives!

Therefore, Tang Feiliu had to stand his ground, making others recognize his position was not to be trifled with. At Black Swan Castle, Edward could guarantee his safety. But this was the Imperial City. Edward was too preoccupied—the plague had already sparked widespread panic. They couldn't leave the Imperial City anytime soon. Naturally, Edward hoped Tang Feiliu would have as many protective charms as possible.

Tang Feiliu shook his head solemnly, meeting Edward's gaze with deep intensity. Edward smiled at him. No words were needed; courage surged within Tang Feiliu—even if only for Edward's sake, he would strive to adapt to this life.

Because... he wanted to stand by Edward's side, to keep him calm and steady, to spare him the need to worry excessively about him and halt his forward stride.

With this resolve, Tang Feiliu stepped forward naturally, ascended the steps, and stood beside Her Majesty Josephine. She smiled as she announced to all present: "I shall bestow the title of Viscount upon this young and exceptional lad at a date to be determined, in recognition of his contributions to us all."

Tang Feiliu knelt on one knee to pay his respects to Her Majesty Josephine. Then he began reciting the prepared story—yes, his purpose for taking the stage was to recount the legend that had granted divine swiftness to the discoverer of the medicinal herb.

During his time in Edward's domain, no matter how outlandish his ideas, Edward had always supported him. This was the first time Tang Feiliu truly grasped how stubborn people could be—even when faced with something undeniably good, suspicion and resistance would inevitably arise. Thus, the once-naive Tang Feiliu learned to think in more circuitous ways, seeking Edward's counsel on how to naturally instill his ideas into others.

Edward, of course, was delighted to have the opportunity to mentor young Lance. He guided Tang Feiliu earnestly, helping him gradually understand that even when acting for the greater good, one must sometimes adapt to methods others could accept.

Of course, this realization came at a steep price for Tang Feiliu. He paid a heavy tuition, one that left him exhausted to the point of tears. Yet he remained profoundly happy.

Because Tang Feiliu refused to give up—perhaps some unseen force had indeed guided him to glimpse that future knowledge, allowed him to attend university, all for this very moment?

So while Tang Feiliu initially felt a guilty conscience about deceiving others, as he spoke, he experienced a profound awakening. He began vividly recounting the discovery of the cholera cure with earnest conviction.

He had coordinated this overnight with both Dr. Charlemagne and Dr. Thorn. Originally, Josephine had intended to summon Dr. Charlemagne to take the stage. But Dr. Charlemagne was eccentric and obsessed with research, detesting such social engagements. Though Dr. Thorn was slightly more diplomatic than his mentor, he too disdained the limelight. He was easily overwhelmed, spoke nervously, and delivered poor results. After much deliberation, they settled on Tang Feiliu.

Tang Feiliu, tasked at the last minute, spent the entire night crafting a tale. He blended elements from Dr. Charlemagne's earlier herb-hunting adventures with his own imaginative flourishes. Having been steeped in modern literary styles, Tang Feiliu's story proved far more appealing to the masses than any drama penned by contemporary writers. To a modern ear, it would sound like a straight-up retelling of a supernatural tale.

The tale went like this—it began one day when Tang Feiliu dreamt of a luminous, ethereal herb held in the mouth of a fawn. The fawn presented it to him, its large, wet eyes gazing up as it wept. Tang Feiliu was utterly puzzled—why would a fawn cry?

Then he saw the fawn transform into a red-haired man. The man said nothing, only held the herb and wept continuously.

As Tang Feiliu pondered this, his servant announced that the Temple was about to execute a red-haired man. Tang Feiliu impulsively rescued him—only to recognize the man as the very figure from his dream!

After introducing themselves, Tang Feiliu learned the man had cured a neighbor's illness. The neighbor had spent months worsening at the Temple's hospital, yet here at Charlemagne's, not a penny was charged—just a few bowls of herbal soup had healed him. Suddenly, People stopped going to the Templar-run hospitals to spend money. A single visit cost at least several pounds, and they rarely cured anything. Charlemagne, however, sometimes charged only a few shillings and almost always healed his patients... Thus, Charlemagne incurred their resentment. The Templars falsely accused him of stealing corpses, which was why he was to be hanged.

As the tale unfolded, the audience listened with rapt attention. The story, heavily revised by court hands, was packed with suspense and tension. When they heard that Charlemagne was troubled by a patient suffering from relentless diarrhea, and while strolling through the countryside with Monsieur de Reims discussing the matter, a fawn actually appeared, kneeling before Monsieur de Reims to offer grass, they couldn't help but gasp softly.

The audience listened with rapt excitement, though Tang Feiliu remained relatively composed. After all, this narrative trope was already thriving across Asia at the time. Both sides claimed divine mandate, with Asia employing a strategy of both appeasement and confrontation. Imperial authority consistently overshadowed religious power, resulting in a stark contrast in development between Asia and the region of Nat. In Tang Feiliu's view, Her Majesty Josephine's approach was fundamentally sound— —Your Temple refuses to comply? Fine! If the gods themselves are untouchable, does that mean I can't discipline their servants?!

After he finished this story, the room fell deathly silent. Then, someone in the audience began clapping loudly. Mr. Johnson was utterly thrilled—he thought this was absolutely brilliant!

As Johnson and other supporters of Her Majesty Josephine began applauding, the speech concluded on the most electrifying note—Her Majesty Josephine pledged that she would personally allocate funds, ensuring that all the sick could now receive free medical care at the relief center!

This instantly swayed even the most hesitant listeners.

Many rushed homeward, while Tang Feiliu, having delivered his speech with composure, now found his legs weak. Clinging to Edward as soon as he was carried, Edward, fearing he might choke, lifted him and moved toward a quieter spot, murmuring, "What's wrong? Why suddenly so unhappy?"

"It's not that..." Tang Feiliu muttered gloomily. "I just feel like I've taken advantage of Mr. Charlemagne. He's the one who deserves to be remembered by everyone."

"Of course he will be remembered," Edward murmured. "Rest assured, not only Her Majesty Josephine, but I myself will establish the first hospital and research center under Black Swan. I will give Mr. Charlemagne my utmost support and aid... People will remember him, and they will remember Thorn. No one will forget what they did for humanity."

"Really?" Tang Feiliu's eyes widened instantly. His mood lifted briefly before he added, "See? When I first offered to fund them, you ignored me. Now you know how good they are, huh?"

"Why should I know their worth?" Edward seized the moment to be a little mischievous. His hand slid under Tang Feiliu's suit jacket, his voice soft and amused. "All I need to know is yours."

Author's Note:

Thanks to Tangyuan Nuonuo and Qili for the support.

And um... don't lock me out! The balcony's covered in snow, and I'm still working hard on my drafts. I promise I'll be serious if you don't lock me out, really!!

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