In the Name of Empress-Chapter 563 - 341: That’s Mine, All Mine!

Winter Palace.

This magnificent palace, located in the bustling district of the city, was once the bedroom of the former Emperor of the Vladimir Empire. However, after the previous Emperor "caught a cold" and passed away, this palace temporarily lost its master.

The new Empress Sofia moved to the Summer Palace on the mountain, and this Winter Palace, which had better conditions in all aspects, was instead put aside.

Although it was put aside, after all, it was an important asset of the Imperial Family, and daily maintenance and upkeep still had to be carried out according to the standards of the Imperial Palace.

At least hundreds of maids and guards were stationed here, ensuring the normal operation of this palace under the command of the Chief Steward, waiting for the new owner’s arrival.

Everything about this palace is good, just a bit deserted, clearly in a bustling urban area, yet it somehow gives off the feeling of being in a remote suburb.

But this is also fine; the maids and guards stationed here work shifts, with not a low salary, living quite well.

Just as the guard at the entrance was yawning lazily, the sound of horse hooves rang out.

He froze for a moment, instinctively looked up toward the main road, seeing a carriage bearing the Imperial Family’s emblem slowly approaching.

He was stunned for a few seconds, instantly realizing that an important person had arrived.

He was about to step up to stop the carriage and ask questions when the Guard Captain next to him smacked him away.

The Guard Captain stood straight in a posture the young guardsman had never seen, with a textbook standard of saluting.

Watching the carriage enter the Winter Palace, the young guardsman couldn’t help but touch his badly slapped face, murmuring quietly, "Captain, whose carriage is this, why didn’t you ask?"

"Shut up you."

The Guard Captain glared at him angrily, remained silent for a moment, then slowly said, "I don’t know who is sitting in the carriage, but the driver is General Sakhalin."

"You mean Her Majesty’s most trusted general, the Blade of Destruction, Lord Sakhalin?"

The young guardsman inhaled sharply, looking at the carriage leaving far away, his mind full of questions.

Who could wield such influence to have General Sakhalin personally drive the carriage?

The young guardsman trembled slightly, thinking of a person.

A carriage with the Imperial Family’s emblem, the Grand General personally driving—there is only one person with such prestige in the whole Empire, Her Majesty the Empress.

No wonder the Captain was angry; obstructing the Empress’s carriage was practically courting death.

The young guardsman, feeling embarrassed, lowered his head and was about to thank the Captain when he saw the Captain once again salute in a standard position.

This time he wised up and followed suit without waiting for the Captain’s call.

The same Imperial carriage, but this time the driver had changed.

It was Miss Angelina, the Prime Minister and the Empress’s most favored minister.

This Prime Minister, known by the moniker Grip of the Frosty Winter, looked stern, casually sitting in the driver’s seat, and nodded slightly in salutation.

Watching the second carriage enter the Winter Palace, the young guardsman finally couldn’t help but ask, "Captain, who is in this second carriage?"

"How should I know?"

The Guard Captain glared at him in exasperation, "Stand your post!"

Watching the second carriage disappear at the end of his sight, the Guard Captain sighed lightly in his heart. He had a premonition that the good days of slacking off while on job and collecting a salary might be over.

Her Majesty the Empress had not returned to the Winter Palace in many years. Her sudden return suggested she intended to stay there for the long haul.

Serving the Emperor indeed provided opportunities to distinguish oneself, but the degree of toil would also multiply.

The Guard Captain sighed inwardly; had he been in his twenties, he would have seized this rare opportunity. However, now in his forties, with grandchildren already starting to read and write, what else could he pursue?

Unlike the melancholy of the Guard Captain, the young guardsman’s eyes were ablaze with fiery anticipation.

Although initially flustered, he quickly realized that the Empress’s return to the Winter Palace, where she hadn’t lived for years, signaled an important political development.

If Her Majesty were to reside long-term at the Winter Palace, those closest to her, like themselves, would have the chance to prove themselves.

Unlike some of the older, more jaded officials around him, the young Plushenko was full of hope for the future. He didn’t want to rot in the Winter Palace like the Captain, wandering aimlessly for a lifetime.

A strong curiosity tormented Plushenko: who was sitting in the other carriage?

...

"Master Roland, this is the famous Scorching Sun Plaza. Do you see that fountain? It’s the largest fountain on the entire Rodinia Continent."

Sahalin looked at the fountain, which was not spraying water, remained silent for a moment, shrugged, and added in a tone almost self-deprecating, "If it were spraying, that is."

Very well, really very well. The palace fountain was actually dry; where had the annual maintenance fees gone? It seemed someone was going to lose their head.

The Chief Steward was one, and the financial officer couldn’t escape either.

These people must be held accountable!

It was such a disgrace, how would the newly-arrived Roland perceive this? Would he think the Rurik people were all like this?

Seeing Sahalin’s somewhat grim expression, Roland could roughly guess what was going on.

When the Emperor is not at the palace, all kinds of demons and monsters would inevitably emerge.

As long as there’s enough interest, people would engage in embezzlement even if the consequence was being flayed and straw-stuffed.

In the past, the White Rose Knight Order had only a few hundred members left, with an annual budget of only several thousand Su Pounds, yet it still gave rise to parasitic figures like Watton and Stanley.

The maintenance fund for the Winter Palace was higher than that of the White Rose Knight Order; it would indeed be odd if there were no parasites.

This was the classic case of "the darkest place is under the candlestick."

For well-known reasons, Sofia did not like this cage-like palace.

After bidding farewell to her husband (the former Emperor), who "caught a cold" and passed away here, she moved out to the Summer Palace.