RLQ - Chapter 19
Chapter 19: Crushing Bones, Sucking Marrow
In an instant, the rage and exhaustion vanished completely from Otto Heinrich's face.
He stood up without a word, blocking Dalton's path.
Dalton keenly noticed that Otto Heinrich's gaze turned particularly cold when it landed on his shoulder. He didn't know the exact reason, but that didn't stop him from using it. "You seem to like this very much, but I'm afraid I cannot give it to you. However, with your wealth, it shouldn't be difficult to have something similar made, Lord Heinrich."
The sound of waves echoed in his ears again.
"Then I congratulate you in advance, Sir," Otto Heinrich replied stiffly. "I hope you can find a suitable tailor to embroider it onto your cloak soon."
Just don't lose your life too early, before you even get a chance to embroider it.
Dalton read his unspoken meaning, and the smile on his face faded slightly. He spun the flintlock pistol. Otto Heinrich had dodged the shot fired during the night of the mutiny, but now he had no warhorse to take the bullet for him.
"Enough," before the shot could be fired, Adele, who had been observing, finally spoke. Her voice was soft. "Go out, Mr. Heinrich. I have something to discuss with Dalton."
This time the Queen didn't say "Get out," but Dalton was pleased to see that the effect was still much like a slap across Otto Heinrich's face.
As the two men brushed past each other, they saw undisguised hostility and killing intent in each other's eyes.
"Your esteemed mentor seems eager to kill me," Dalton closed the door behind him, holding the gun, and walked in briskly. "Everyone says a student learns their teacher's best skills. Tell me, is that true, my dear Majesty?"
"Mr. Dalton," Adele didn't answer his question. She frowned, examining him. "Has our Imperial Marshal become unable to afford a decent doctor?"
"I have to show the person of my rose what good things the bitter thorns on her rose have left me, don't I?" Dalton retorted sharply, with an undercurrent of resentment he didn't realize he held.
Adele raised an eyebrow slightly.
Her eyebrows weren't as soft and delicate as those of typical noble ladies; they were long and thin at the ends. When she raised an eyebrow, it felt like a slender blade.
"Come here," she said. "Closer to me."
She used her usual commanding tone, yet it carried her unique softness and sweetness... Could she perhaps possess the soul of a spider, a creature favored by witches? No matter the situation, she always found a way to stir men's nerves, manipulating them with invisible threads.
After a moment of stalemate, Dalton still walked over, though his gaze remained cold.
"You must be the most foolish knight," Adele said softly. "No smart fellow would make a lady stand up to examine his wound."
"This is the good work of your future husband's brother."
Dalton knelt on one knee on the cushion before the Queen's chair, blurting out the words as he did so, and felt his anger rise again.
"When he knelt before you, did he perfectly meet your standard for an excellent knight?"
Adele closed the book and set it aside.
Her index finger and thumb pinched Dalton's chin. Dalton reflexively tightened his grip on the gun; he never had the habit of exposing his throat to others, but Adele's touch, though gentle, was impossible to refuse. She leaned down to examine the wound on his face, her hair falling onto his shoulder.
"You seem deeply angry with me."
Adele pressed a handkerchief soaked in medicine onto his cheekbone—the handkerchief had been prepared and placed nearby. The coldness from the handkerchief seeped through the thin layer of muscle into the still-burning bone.
"Are you blaming me? On what grounds?"
The anger, slightly cooled by the handkerchief's chill, flared up again. Dalton pushed her hand away.
"On what grounds?" Dalton was both angry and furious. "You set the trap yourself, and now you ask me on what grounds? Did the rumors not come from your instruction? Were Otto Heinrich's actions not directed by you? Were you not already thinking about how to get rid of me, a blade you no longer need?"
"Yes."
Dalton didn't realize what she had said at first.
Not until Adele placed the handkerchief on the table beside her. She no longer sat sideways, a more casual posture, but turned to face him as if seated on her throne, her hands clasped in her lap. A pair of magnificent eyes looked down at him.
"If you must know," Adele said clearly, "Yes, it was me."
"Then you should kill me. Since you've reconciled with your mentor, isn't it easy for the Heinrich family, known as the 'Two-Headed Snake,' to find one or two poisons to kill someone?" Dalton said sharply.
"Because Roland needs a general," Adele replied. "A general excellent enough to face the Rute Empire's army. Besides you, there is no other military man capable of bearing that responsibility."
Ah, so that was it.
Dalton felt like a complete fool for blurting out in the studio that he was willing to lead her fleet. She had been waiting for that sentence; she had clearly deliberately made him see the scene with Prince Arthur.
"Fine. Fine!"
Dalton practically leaped from the floor, pacing furiously in the hall.
"Why don't you just smash my bones and suck out my marrow?"
The gun was in his hand. Just one bullet, and everything could end. His army was sufficient to give him control of the imperial capital in the shortest time. The Summer Palace was full of his men; no one could break in to save her. As long as he pulled the trigger, as long as he aimed at her... then everything could return to normal.
He wasn't some loyal knight anyway!
Adele watched him without a word.
He drew the gun and aimed it at her.
The muzzle was black, the gun body shrouded in the aura of blood and death. They faced each other for a long time, like two wolves staring at each other. But neither spoke.
"Damn it."
Dalton cursed and threw the gun away.
He lunged at the Queen, kissing her like he was biting her. This viperous woman with rose eyes and a heart of stone.
And so, very quickly, he tasted blood in his mouth again.
Adele slapped him again without mercy, right on the injured side of his face. Damn it, she knew exactly where to hit hard. Dalton had hit his head when he fell from his horse earlier that day, and now her fierce, wolf-like angry slap brought back the dizziness.
He had to let go of her, spat a mouthful of blood onto the carpet beside him, and sneered, "You should be used to hitting this face by now, shouldn't you?"
"That slap was deserved," Adele said, slightly out of breath. She picked up a stack of documents from the table. "I wanted to give these to you that night."
"How troublesome for you to wait until now! You could have given them to me then, and I could have sent you to Whitehall Prison!" Dalton gritted his teeth.
Adele threw the stack of documents at him. The papers scattered, one fluttering past Dalton's eyes. A name on it caught his attention: "Robert Dalton"... This was a document about him.
"I knew you."
Adele said, her voice no longer soft or sweet, but containing something terrible, something one wouldn't want to touch.
"Before the mutiny, even earlier."
Dalton grabbed the paper and saw it was an impeachment document from the National Assembly concerning him, dated September 7, 1555. At that time, the Queen had just been crowned, and the second conflict between the New God Sect and the Old God Sect was happening domestically. That time, the Old God Sect, prepared and taking advantage of the chaos of the royal succession, suppressed the New God Sect to the point where they could barely breathe.
His life hadn't been easy during that period either.
This was a secret document, drafted by the Upper House of the National Assembly, bypassing the Lower House. It was submitted directly to the newly ascended Queen, who, by rights, having been crowned for only a month, could barely oppose the National Assembly.
However, the Queen rejected it.
Dalton felt as if he had been punched hard in the face, unable to say anything.
He crouched down to pick up the other documents, to see what was written on them.
Adele stood up and walked around him.
"What do you care about?" she asked softly. "You think I don't know what you care about? Being a commoner, it's a painful brand for you, isn't it? You feel you've suffered so much injustice. I cannot deny this; at least, as far as I know, at least a dozen people climbed over your military achievements to get ahead. I know what this country is like, just as you do."
Adele tilted her head back, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
"When I was eight, I witnessed my mother being sent to the guillotine. When I was nine, I was pushed into a lake by my father's mistress. When I was thirteen, I was stripped of my princess title. When I was fifteen, I was exiled... I know what this country is like, just as you do—both powerful and empty, both glorious and corrupt. Discrimination, harshness, suppression."
Her voice was so calm, as if the person who had walked those bloody paths was not herself.
"I don't like it this way. I am determined to change it."
And so, Roland had its first just and strict Queen.
"I hope that regardless of whether they are nobles or commoners, all talented people can be given important positions. I hope that all those who fight with their blood can receive the rewards they deserve. I hope I can achieve all of this, or at least strive to achieve all of this," Adele opened her hands and gazed at them. "Whether commoners or nobles, they are all my subjects."
Dalton smoothed out a document.
July 1556, Queen Adele rejected the National Assembly's proposal to have a Count take over the defense of Port Keximiya, insisting on nominating him for the responsibility.
"I had never met you," Adele said. "But I watched you. I knew all the battles you participated in, I knew all your hidden talents, I knew you wanted to prove that commoners are no less than nobles. I gave you what you wanted, and earnestly hoped to make your thorny path a little smoother. For this, I did not hesitate to reject Otto Heinrich's demands and create a rift with him."
Adele slowly crouched down in front of Dalton.
Documents were scattered all around them.
"It was I who had you participate in military exercises, it was I who wanted you to become the Imperial Marshal. This was what you deserved all along," she picked up a paper from the ground and placed it before Dalton's eyes. "However, it seems you found a way to get it yourself."
A letter of appointment as Imperial Marshal, written on July 15th.
Adele was still smiling slightly.
Dalton now wished she would slap him again, even more would be fine.
"Look, what have I gained?" she seemed to be asking him, and also herself. "See how many chances I gave you, and what did you do? It is you who are fixated on the word 'commoner,' not me."
She finally stopped concealing the deep-seated hatred. Her eyes were fixed on his.
Dalton found himself regretting and fearing seeing that hatred in her eyes so much.
"Give me—"
"Get. Out."
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