RLQ - Chapter 12
Chapter 12: Perfect Creation
The meeting location was a royal manor on the bank of the White River.
If the Rute Emperor himself were coming, Roland's welcoming party should have reached the city gates. But since it was only his brother, the location was changed to a Roland royal manor. However, to show respect for Prince Arthur—and also the importance placed on a future ally—Roland erected colorful tents on the lawn by the White River.
Royal and noble banners fluttered on the slope, rose bushes in stone pots lined both sides of the road, and the orchestra had begun to play, elegant melodies drifting along with the sound of hooves.
When Prince Arthur alighted from the carriage, he saw the other party standing before the grand tent, showing no intention of stepping forward.
"You are required to meet the Queen," the attendant reminded softly.
"Alright, alright."
Prince Arthur grumbled a couple of times, then raised a hand to tug at his collar adorned with exquisite lace, deliberately appearing unrestrained, before walking forward alone.
The Roland people had used roses in stone pots to create a path leading to the Queen. Prince Arthur casually plucked a rose and held it loosely in his hand. Holding the rose, he followed the path of roses, looking up to size up his future sister-in-law—hopefully, she wouldn't be too unsightly.
Otherwise, he would truly pity his brother.
The moment he looked up, Prince Arthur suddenly felt the world stand still.
At the end of the path, among all the people in formal attire, stood the most dazzling and graceful figure.
She stood backlit, the summer sun outlining her with a radiance like an angel of judgment. Her silver hair was blown by the wind, the tips reflecting a mesmerizing iridescence. Her red dress was her battle robe. She overlooked all beings from the edge of the world, and before her, they cast aside their armor and weapons.
An intensely strong premonition enveloped him.
Artists were often seized by such premonitions; before the arrival of the Muse, their hearts would race, blood would surge, and they would lose control. Prince Arthur's association with artists was partly a disguise, but also because he was one of those madmen.
That figure, that proud, divinely created figure...
He forgot everything, holding the rose, walking forward step by step, hearing his own heartbeat growing louder with each beat, hearing his blood rushing and roaring through his veins.
As the distance shortened, the Roland Queen's face became clearer.
The scent of roses in the air became extraordinarily strong. Each step felt like walking in a dream. In the backlit shadow and the gleam of jewels, her cheekbones, her sharp, long eyebrows, her enchanting eyes... all the lines merged to form a painting that transcended reality and dreams.
By the time Prince Arthur came back to his senses, he had been standing before the Queen for a while.
A low murmur of laughter rippled through the surroundings. The people of Roland mocked the Rute Prince's soul-lost demeanor while also feeling immensely proud.
Adele Roland's beauty had always been a source of pride for the Empire; they could arrogantly declare, "Besides Roland, there is no other rose as beautiful."
An unnatural redness flushed Prince Arthur's face. He stood before the Queen like any young, inexperienced lad. Amidst the low laughter, the Queen extended her hand to him. Prince Arthur knelt on one knee and pressed a gentle kiss upon her white-gloved hand.
"This is for you."
Prince Arthur placed the rose in the Queen's hand. His face was rather thin, and the flush of excitement gave him a sense of neurotic fervor.
"Please forgive my oversight. I will find the finest jewels and craft a rose worthy of you."
The Queen picked up the rose, brought it to her nose, and inhaled lightly, smiling sweetly. "Thank you for your kind thought."
In Prince Arthur's clear blue eyes, the subtle madness grew stronger. He gazed at the Queen as if beholding a perfect artistic icon.
After the Queen and the Prince met, they were quickly led into the royal tent.
Although the alliance was already decided, following traditional etiquette, Prince Arthur still had to represent his brother, the King, and engage in a series of superficial courtship gestures towards the Queen. At the banquet, Prince Arthur sat beside Adele. Adele leaned against the armrest of the throne, propping up her chin, smiling as she listened to him recount interesting anecdotes from the Rute Empire.
She listened with great focus, as the Rute Empire, though an ally now, might one day become an enemy again, and one can never know too much about one's enemies.
Furthermore, Adele was indeed somewhat curious about this young Prince before her.
Arthur Lester.
The century of history she had gained upon her rebirth focused mainly on Roland but also included some information about the Rute Empire. Among it was a detail about Prince Arthur: the Lester family had a long tradition of inbreeding, and Prince Arthur was one of the tragedies of this deformed marriage.
—He suffered from a hereditary mental illness in his family, though he had always tried his best to hide it.
Later, this Prince's actions became increasingly outrageous, and he was even once called the "Prince of Sin."
However, the Prince with a poor reputation did possess the temperament of a troubadour, recounting his experiences with romance and vividness.
Seeing his performance, the other accompanying envoys from the Rute Empire couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. However, what made them somewhat anxious was that Prince Arthur's conversation had deviated from the main topic, not mentioning a single word about his brother.
Most envoys attributed this to the Prince being too young and careless.
Only Prince Arthur's confidantes exchanged glances, feeling that things were subtly turning for the worse. They knew full well that their master was... was... Alas! May God bless them and prevent any terrible scandal.
"I'd bet she's completely captivated him..."
Dalton was also among the party welcoming the Rute envoys. This alliance, tied by marriage, was something he had personally facilitated. But at this moment, he sat in his seat, his face grim.
"...What a noble union."
Someone praised in a low voice.
The status, power, and glory brought by bloodline often outweigh many things.
Dalton had known this for a long time, but after hearing so many rumors about him and the Queen, he couldn't tell if he had ever harbored even a sliver of that unrealistic hope in his heart. Sitting in the royal tent now, listening to the praises all around, Dalton couldn't help but feel regret.
He held his wine glass, the light and shadow cast beneath his high, thin cheekbones, the contours of bone and muscle making his expression appear even colder.
Inadvertently, Prince Arthur, seated next to the head of the table, glanced in his direction.
The young Rute Prince, dressed in luxurious clothes with golden hair, raised his glass to him. Dalton did not miss the fleeting malice across his lips.
Rute's batling.
The thought flashed through his mind. Dalton returned the gesture with an expressionless face.
Adele took in this brief exchange with her eyes.
She held a round fan made of white peacock feathers, occasionally using it to half-cover her face while talking to the Prince. She skillfully switched between being a queen and a woman, sometimes majestic, sometimes displaying the expectant shyness of a woman about to enter marriage.
"My esteemed goddess, who is he?"
Prince Arthur asked in a low voice, deliberately leaning closer to the Queen, in an ambiguous and intimate manner.
"He is..." Adele's smile vanished for a moment, but she quickly raised her fan, covering the fleeting unnatural expression. "He is Robert Dalton, my Marshal, a very outstanding general."
"I heard he was the one who quelled the July rebellion for you?"
"It was thanks to his contributions," Adele said lightly, then steered the conversation away. "I also heard that your brother is young and promising, but you know marriage is no child's play, so although everyone praises his virtues to me, I can't help but be worried."
When she mentioned the Rute King, Prince Arthur still wore a smiling expression, but the color of his eyes seemed to deepen significantly in an instant, shifting abruptly from the sky to the deep sea.
Adele acted as if she hadn't noticed his change: "However, after meeting you, I feel relieved... After all, he has a dazzling brother like you."
Prince Arthur blinked, revealing a brilliant smile.
"I can't wait to paint you."
He said.
That evening, after the banquet dispersed, at the Rute Embassy.
"Your Highness, I think you should..." The secretary accompanying the negotiations chased Prince Arthur down the long corridor, looking distressed. "I've gathered quite a bit of information these past few days. I think Adele..."
"Stop."
Arthur abruptly stopped and turned around.
His face in the shadows of the colonnade showed a terrifying expression completely different from the daytime. Those eyes, praised by noblewomen as "like the sky after rain," were like a sea churning with violent storms. His pale complexion had a sickly pallor, and his hand was already on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
"Who allowed you to call her by her name?"
Prince Arthur asked chillingly.
The secretary was so scared he took a step back, cold sweat instantly breaking out.
He had no doubt that Prince Arthur could stab him with his sword at any moment.
Because Prince Arthur, he was a—
Madman!
His palace was filled with artists from all over the world, and assassins and poisoners came and went constantly. Privately, the secretary felt that Prince Arthur was like a bat lurking in a dark lair, taking pleasure in chaos.
"There are unsavory rumors about Her Majesty the Queen and both Dalton and Heinrich; her loyalty and purity still need to be verified. Such a woman is not a good choice. And... and she will be your brother's... his..."
Wife.
"Accompanied by ill repute... My God, she's even more beautiful." Prince Arthur sighed like a poet, and like lightning, he plunged his sword into the secretary's heart. "I don't need you to remind me of the difference between me and my brother."
The secretary fell to the ground.
Prince Arthur stepped directly over the corpse.
His thoughts had already flown to the matter of painting the Queen. Countless compositions flashed through his mind, then were rejected one by one. His inspiration was endless, each one a masterpiece, but he always felt something was still missing... Her beauty could be expressed even better...
Better... more perfect...
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