RLQ - Chapter 17
Chapter 17: Gifting You a Rose
The high platform instantly became the center of attention.
The Queen's rumored lover and the brother of the Queen's fiancé were having a public dispute.
The situation was extremely delicate.
Refusing Prince Arthur would mean severely offending their new ally. On the other hand, Dalton, as the Queen's newly promoted Marshal of the Empire and her apparent loyal supporter, if he were refused, people would have to think twice before pledging allegiance to the Queen in the future. If a sovereign cannot grant dignity and honor to their followers, they will lose the right to be supported.
All eyes were on the Queen, filled with scrutiny.
Adele knew this well.
The previous rebellion was certainly due to the difficulty many had in accepting a woman ruling the empire, but it was more out of contempt and distrust. She was too young; those shrewd and worldly nobles found it hard to believe she possessed seasoned political acumen.
Every action she took would be magnified and repeatedly weighed.
There was no room for error.
Under everyone's gaze, Adele maintained a faint smile.
She untied a silk ribbon embroidered with a rose pattern in gold thread from her wrist, then walked down the last step of the platform and placed the ribbon in Prince Arthur's hand: "I sincerely hope that you will be blessed by the goddess of fortune. Just as I so earnestly hope that the friendship between Rute and Roland will last forever."
Dalton slowly straightened up, watching silently, his other hand gripping the lance tightening under his iron gauntlet.
Prince Arthur tied the ribbon around his wrist, smiling brightly: "You are my goddess of fortune. Nothing could inspire me to brave fire and water more than your encouragement and smile."
When the Queen placed the ribbon in Prince Arthur's hand, the Rute Empire's envoys smiled, while the expressions of Roland's nobles and officials became somewhat complex. Some were relieved, some remained silent, and some showed anger.
But before the whispers among the Roland seats could grow louder, Adele turned and walked towards Dalton.
The edge of Dalton's armor gleamed with a dazzling, bright line.
He usually used firearms, and the nobles often mocked him for being "ignorant of everything a knight should know; once he throws away that iron tube, even a nine-year-old child could knock him off his horse with a stick." However, today he fiercely retaliated against that mockery—even if thrown back two hundred years, he could still carve a bloody path through the battlefield's vast armies.
Some people were born for war.
The Queen raised her hand, took a rose-shaped brooch made of gold and rubies from her shoulder, and offered it to Dalton: "Are you willing to accept this emblem?"
Her voice was soft and gentle.
Among all the knights present, almost everyone had a clear and conspicuous emblem on their cloak and armor. Except for Dalton; his cloak was as black as night, and while his armor was dazzling, it had no adornments—all of which glaringly reminded everyone that even though he had been knighted by the Queen and become the Empire's Marshal, his roots were still humble.
A commoner who had clawed his way into the nobility.
But when the Queen bestowed the rose brooch upon him and asked, "Are you willing to accept this emblem?", things became entirely different.
The emblem of the Roland family was a cross sword and a rose.
After her coronation, the Queen adopted the red rose alone as her personal symbol. Today, the Queen granting the rose to Dalton meant she was accepting the Dalton family—should the Dalton family take root in the Empire—as an auxiliary family to the royal house.
Under this meaning, no one could say that the Queen first giving her blessing to Prince Arthur was a slight to Dalton.
Dalton accepted the rose brooch and pinned it to his shoulder.
As he performed the kiss of the hand to show his gratitude, Adele's lips moved slightly, and she spoke a sentence in a low, inconspicuous voice.
Dalton straightened up after a moment.
The rose brooch pinned to his shoulder burned like a flame, scorching his muscles through the armor, scorching his bones, scorching the nerve of his reason. It should have been a purely blissful heat, but the Queen's words, audible only to the two of them, made the fire of joy equally dangerous.
Both delighted and angry.
"What do you think?"
As Minister of State, Heinrich's position was the closest to the Queen, apart from Prince Arthur.
Adele clasped her hands, resting her arms on the armrests, watching the situation in the jousting arena.
After circling the field, Dalton and Prince Arthur entered from two different entrances. This was, so far, the joust between the two highest-ranking individuals. Any truly fatal injury to either of them would cause a series of upheavals.
For this reason, before the match, the attendants of both sides had to meticulously check that their armor was perfectly sealed.
When the master of ceremonies announced the start of the joust, the warhorses galloped, dust swirling beneath their hooves, cloaks fluttering like waves.
"The Emperor of Rute should consider making his brother a general, not an artist," Adele said. "He handles a brush well, and a lance and sword are just as excellent."
"Who do you think is stronger?" Heinrich asked.
This question was actually a bit strange; he seemed certain that the Queen could keenly discern the subtle difference in strength between the two jousters.
Normally, noble ladies and young women, while they loved watching duels and jousts, few were truly skilled in the art.
Adele Roland was different.
She was a true "Roland."
The Roland family, whose emblem was a cross sword and a rose, Adele perfectly inherited all the prominent symbols of this family. Although she was a woman, she was skilled in military matters and quite knowledgeable about various weapons, consistently accurate in judging the strength and weakness of opponents.
When she was fourteen, she was accused of witchcraft to murder her father, for which she was exiled for three years.
While royal exile was not as tragic as that of commoners, the Reef Castle where Adele was sent was in an extremely dangerous location, frequently harassed by pirates. To ensure the princess could survive unexpected incidents, he began teaching Adele the lessons originally meant for a prince.
Horsemanship, longsword, and archery.
Limited by her physique, Adele found it difficult to use a heavy longsword, but her crossbow was deadly accurate back then. However, she followed his advice and, after her exile ended and she returned to the palace, she never used a bow and arrow in front of others again.
Before, Heinrich also thought she had completely abandoned archery, but now, he no longer thought so.
—The world only saw the rose, but failed to notice the sharp blade hidden beneath the rose petals.
"Dalton," Adele answered decisively. "He is a battle blade forged from blood and corpses. Prince Arthur is ultimately different from him."
Heinrich felt a slight urge to ask her, "Then how do you think I compare to Dalton?"
—"You are the most excellent knight, Sir."
—"If I can return, would you mind the Heinrich family emblem having a rose alongside the two-headed snake?"
The sixteen-year-old Princess Adele sat on the black rocks by the sea. Her exile had made her much thinner, her loose white dress billowing behind her in the sea breeze. She sat there like an elegant ghost orchid blooming on the reef. Resolute, sincere, full of hope... that was the young princess back then.
When he heard "a rose alongside the two-headed snake," he clearly heard his own heartbeat amidst the thunderous waves.
Subsequently, he realized the princess's words were merely gratitude, not what he had initially reacted to.
That was a long time ago. The princess had only said it once, and he had never brought it up. All this time, he thought he had long forgotten.
But when the rose that was originally promised to him was pinned on another man's shoulder, the tide of the Rose Strait surged back, and his nostrils filled with the scent of the sea breeze.
"It seems you are certain Mr. Dalton will win."
Heinrich said softly, feeling the snake in his heart begin to bite again. Its teeth were extremely sharp, and the venom of jealousy and bitterness surged from his heart, rushing through every vein in his body. He tried hard to keep his voice calm.
"The Rute Empire might not look too good."
"No."
Adele's tone carried a chilling coldness.
"He will lose."
The warhorses thundered, and the cheers of the spectators were deafening.
After their initial probing, Dalton and Prince Arthur quickly charged at each other.
The distance between them grew shorter and shorter, and the face behind Dalton's helmet became colder and colder.
In the royal tent, Prince Arthur sat beside the Queen; in the studio, the Queen leaned over to watch Prince Arthur paint, conversing intimately; in front of the high platform, the Queen was the first to place the ribbon in Prince Arthur's hand... All these scenes converged, each one mocking the indelible mark of his humble origins.
All the scenes and sounds converged, solidifying into the killing intent on the tip of his lance.
He could win.
If he won, he could arrogantly declare to everyone that nobles were nothing special in front of commoners.
Prince Arthur was a tough opponent, but the opponent's true fangs were hidden in the shadows.
A frontal charge was the domain of soldiers. When the opponent struck his shield, he would make them fall awkwardly from their warhorse, so badly that they would have to be helped up.
He could do it.
But...
—"I give you a rose, will you return me bitter thorns?"
The Queen, standing on the high platform, seemed to see through all the violent emotions in his heart. She said this to him as he kissed the back of her hand.
Prince Arthur was the brother of the Emperor of Rute; in Roland, he represented the Emperor of Rute. His loss of face in the duel was equivalent to the Emperor of Rute losing face. At a time when they needed to jointly oppose the Yage Kingdom, the Queen had to ensure her ally would not harbor resentment.
More importantly...
The Emperor of Rute would be her husband.
No rational lady would do something that would damage her future husband's dignity. For a wife, that would be a bitter thorn that could cut her throat.
Damn Rute! Damn Yage!
The rose brooch on his shoulder burned like fire, scorching his muscles and bones through the armor.
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