“Hold the flashlight and follow me,” Kerns said, taking Wilhelmina’s hand as they ventured ahead.
The tunnel was filled with a decaying smell, damp and cold, with their footsteps echoing clearly.
“Don’t you think we’re like tomb raiders?” Wilhelmina asked, excitement in her voice. “This place has been sealed for so long; there might be monsters or mutant rats.”
“Darling, the guards inspect here twice a year. If there were any mutant creatures, I believe they would have been eliminated.”
“How can you be sure they won’t discover us?”
“Trust my technology, okay?” Kerns replied. “I’ve frozen the security lock for half an hour. That’s why I chose the entrance closest to the meeting hall.”
Kerns’ multi-functional watch displayed a three-dimensional model of the tunnel, showing sound and heat shielding devices activated. Following the indication, they reached above the meeting hall.
“Look!” Kerns pointed at a small metal piece after wiping away dust. “We’re not the first ones to eavesdrop here.”
Wilhelmina pulled the ring on the metal piece, opening it slightly. Light from the other side illuminated heated arguments, reminiscent of a marketplace.
“…Unbelievable!” shouted an old man in a white robe with gold trim, clearly a high-ranking elder. “Just because those shameless rioters threaten us, we should compromise? Those ungrateful, insatiable people who desire to get something for nothing, eyeing our wealth. Open the warehouse doors for them?”
“They are not rioters, Lord Faraheim!” replied a middle-aged man. “They are our people who have created your wealth. It’s the 7385th year of the Galactic Calendar, and human civilization has existed for over ten thousand years, yet your views are stuck in the past.”
Are you saying the Queen should compromise with the people?” a middle-aged man shouted. “A monarch should never be threatened by the people. She is the ruler!”
“Inappropriate governance methods will only provoke riots. This is a lesson from history!”
“You young radicals shout about freedom and equality. Wait until the rebels strip you of your white robe; then you’ll know what kind of rioters you’ve helped!”
“If we don’t make concessions now, we’ll lose more than just this linen robe,” an elder in a white robe with blue stripes tapped his cane. “They have the support of the financial elite. We can’t even nominate our own finance minister.”
