RLQ - Chapter 23
Chapter 23: Daughter of Two Kings
Archbishop Rhodri opened the thick scripture, about to recite the necessary prayers for this extremely special "Divine Judgment" ritual.
The Queen spoke first.
“I implore God, the only just judge, the maker of peace, to render a righteous judgment. I humbly beg for your blessing, and ask for your mercy upon me, my people, and my kingdom.” Adele’s voice echoed clearly throughout the cathedral.
A commotion broke out in the church.
No one knew why the Queen had forcefully interrupted Archbishop Rhodri and initiated the judgment herself.
“A blasphemous heretic…”
Balde stood not far from the high platform, his aged face shrouded in the shadow of a vertical pillar. He clutched a yellowed holy book tightly in his hand, his withered body held straight by the force of anger and hatred. He stared unblinkingly at the Queen on the platform, his lips moving.
“You will regret your attempt to deceive the world. Let God expose your wicked soul, let God strip away the crown you have usurped, let everyone see how base and worthless you are…”
“If your justice still exists in this world, then let the long-awaited rain descend! Let the water of life for all things come down!”
Adele raised her hands and placed them on either side of her crown. She looked directly at the statue of God before her, her gaze devoid of reverence or humility, sharp as a knife or sword.
She was tired of being judged and decided upon by others.
Those people, those individuals, what right did they have to judge her?!
August 28, 1557.
She stepped onto the guillotine on that day.
The sun scorched the earth, and she ascended the guillotine amidst curses and insults. Crows circled over the pointed towers. The executioner sharpened his blade. She knelt in the place where her mother had died, hearing the wind scrape against the stone, hearing the flagpole snap, hearing the curses briefly vanish in the wind, then boil up again.
—Look! This is the will of heaven!
—She brought the drought!
—Violating the natural order!
...
Amidst the curses, the executioner raised his blade high, and a torrential downpour began.
A downpour.
A sudden, unheralded downpour.
That was the most fatal cut fate had carved into her throat.
That downpour sealed her fate—"A heretic and a woman ruling against the natural order brought disaster to Roland"—turning everything about her into a hysterical, absurd joke.
“Prove my glory!”
Adele resolutely took off the crown on her head and placed it on the cold stone before her.
Rhodri heard her last words, spoken in a low, hoarse voice, like a roar suppressed for a long time and then bursting from her throat—directed at fate, at the world.
“Prove that my crown is well-deserved!”
Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass rose window at the center of the pointed arch dome, enveloping both the Queen on the platform and the solemn statue of God.
Madam Kelly stood below the platform, surrounded by many noble ladies and young women. She knew they were looking at her with mocking and pitying eyes. Only she knew how calm she felt. She clasped her hands in front of her, gazing unblinkingly at Adele, who knelt alone on the high platform.
Her princess, her Majesty, her family, and her faith.
How long had it been? Watching the young princess grow up, watching the princess shed no tears since the Queen's death. On August 20th, three years ago, she stood in St. Mary's Cathedral, watching the Archbishop place the crown on Adele's hair, overwhelmed by immense joy, tears streaming down her face.
It was all over.
She thought then... it was all over, the girl she had raised would be happy and joyful from then on, and no one could hurt her anymore.
Why wasn't it over?
They demanded the Queen accept God's judgment, and Madam Kelly also wanted to ask God—why did you give her mistress so much suffering? Was she not firm enough? Not just enough? Not merciful enough? Not kind enough? Not loving enough towards this country?
No, if what her mistress had done was not enough, then in this world, no one else could ever be.
No one else.
Time passed little by little.
The last trace of morning coolness had long vanished, and the scorching afternoon sun mercilessly stole the last bit of moisture from the ground. People waiting outside the cathedral felt as if they were standing in a furnace, their clothes soaked with sweat but quickly drying, some even fainting from the heat. The outcome of the judgment seemed already decided. The waves of dissatisfied and questioning voices from the crowd outside the cathedral could be heard clearly inside. Within the cathedral, people's whispers had turned into loud talking, "heretic," "sorceress," "sinner," "divine punishment"... all sorts of malicious words bounced back and forth under the intersecting marble ribs of the arches.
There is no God in this world.
Madam Kelly thought calmly, gripping the poison hidden in her sleeve.
Old Father Balde tremblingly raised the scripture, lifting it with all his might.
Then, with his hoarse voice, he shouted to everyone in the cathedral who had also grown impatient: “A woman who is a heretic is unfit to govern a nation, and the daughter of a witch is even less fit to defile the throne! Gentlemen! Ladies and young women, look at the sky outside, look at the sun like a torch! Is God’s will not clear enough?!”
Dalton cursed under his breath, about to go and silence the old man who deserved to go to hell.
“Is it… cough, cough, cough…”
Old Father Balde wanted to say more, but began to cough violently.
He couldn't speak a word.
Dalton didn't believe this stubborn, arrogant madman was simply choking on his own saliva. He stopped, narrowing his eyes slightly, and noticed a tall, silent monk standing behind the old priest. He was pressing close to the old priest, supporting him, as if worried he might faint from emotional agitation.
Bribery, a non-fatal but necessary poison…
The methods of the Heinrich family.
Dalton looked up towards where Heinrich was standing. The eyes of the two mutually hostile men met briefly and coldly.
On the day of the procession, the Queen had already dealt a near-fatal blow to the Old God Sect. This ancient and colossal monster was dying but unwilling to loosen its grip on the country. The last of those unwilling and fanatical individuals, led by Old Father Balde and the John brothers, gathered in the cathedral today.
Although Old Father Balde was silenced by the monk bribed by Heinrich, his few words just now were like stones thrown into a lake, stirring up a huge commotion.
One, two, three…
One scripture after another, containing the doctrines of the Old God, was raised high.
“She is unfit to be king!” Someone roared first, followed by the Old God followers and everyone who had been incited, roaring together, “Make her come down! Make her come down!”
Come down!
Come down!!
...
The roar surged up to the dome.
The Queen heard Heinrich's rare curse, heard Dalton ordering the soldiers to gather around the platform to prevent the rioting crowd from rushing up and harming her, heard Archbishop Rhodri loudly reiterating the order of the Divine Judgment... She was struck by the surging malice, yet her thoughts were so calm.
Tick, tock…
She counted the ticking of the cathedral clock in her heart.
Adele… Adele…
In the monotonous, judgmental ticking, Adele remembered stories her mother told her when she was young. She told stories of castles, cavalry, and monarchs. Her face was illuminated by the warm orange firelight, her hands warm and strong… Then the fire quickly flared up, burning down the palace. In the last moments before her execution, she was allowed to say a few final words to her family.
She held young Adele, calling her name softly, urgently.
...Adele, my daughter, the continuation of my life, I will protect you, protect you with my life, my soul, everything I have.
...Adele, you must remember, everything that cannot destroy us, that cannot crush us, will only make us stronger.
Her mother's tone was so urgent, so anxious, as if fearing she couldn't tell her the most important things in her last moments, couldn't pass on her most precious possessions.
Adele, my daughter, I will always love you.
After saying the last sentence, she became the decisive and proud Queen of Kailailey again, raising her head to give the executioner an order.
—Come!
Adele heard the clock tick past the moment she would forever remember, heard the great bell echoing in the air.
The downpour of August 28, 1557, had been the fatal cut fate carved into her throat. Now she would grasp this blade and strike it at all the enemies who hated and scorned her.
Everything that could not crush her, destroy her, or kill her, would only make her stronger.
Come!
Dalton's musketeers tightly surrounded the platform, forcing back the surging crowd with their muzzles. Unable to approach the platform, the Old God followers standing in the second-floor gallery simply climbed onto the railings, cursing "heretic, get down!" while preparing to hurl their heavy scriptures at the Queen on the platform.
Bang—
A gunshot broke the solemnity of the cathedral, stinging people's eardrums.
Dalton's face was cold; it was he who had pulled the trigger without hesitation.
The Old God follower seemed to have no idea that he would be so decisive and reckless as to fire a gun in the cathedral—a sacred place where fighting and bloodshed were forbidden. He widened his eyes and fell from the railing, his head hitting the hard stone with a heavy thud amidst gasps of surprise.
Brain matter mixed with dazzling blood splattered.
“Get her down!”
Heinrich cursed, shouting loudly towards Archbishop Rhodri, who was closer to the Queen. At the same time, he forcefully pushed away a fat councilor blocking his path and moved towards the platform.
The first death from violent conflict had occurred, and the situation was about to spiral out of control in a dangerous direction.
Damn it, why did she insist on this bizarre Divine Judgment? And why didn't he just help those old bones of the Old God faction?
Shouldn't the Heinrich family prioritize profit above all else?
Everything has a price.
Heinrich told himself this in his heart.
Although he had reconciled with the Queen after his betrayal, the rift caused by the betrayal still remained. Now the Old God faction had been pushed to a dead end by the Queen. If the Queen won today, the Heinrich family would gain greater benefits from their choice; otherwise, they might be expelled from the imperial capital again…
Heinrich avoided the deeper answer in his heart, telling himself this was just a gamble.
The head of the Heinrich family, known for his elegance, drew a rapier from under his cloak and cleanly plunged it into the chest of a monk holding a holy book in front of him.
When the rapier was pulled out, hot blood splattered onto Heinrich's cheeks and hair, dripping down from the corner of his eye.
Corpses and blood became catalysts for emotion.
The people of the Old God Sect quickly drew out cold, gleaming daggers from under their monk robes, cursing and surging towards the platform. The noble ladies and young women, who had not expected things to escalate to this point, trembled and screamed, their voices filled with panic.
The moment Dalton stepped onto the first step, on the high platform, the Queen extended her hands.
She grasped the crown.
Crack.
All the chaos seemed to be forcibly paused by an invisible power.
Thunder exploded in the sky, the sound rapidly spreading through the hot, uneasy air, enveloping everyone. The thunderclap was so loud, so majestic, so terrifying. The moment it sounded, it snatched the angry expressions from some people's faces. Those who had just been trying to break through the musketeer guard stood frozen in place.
They raised their heads, looking at the sky with blank expressions.
It was thunder.
Thunder they hadn't heard for months.
They almost thought it was their imagination, but in the next moment, all the window frames in the cathedral emitted a sharp sound—a fierce wind roared in.
The double-arched windows high on the west side of the cathedral tore at the gale. Hundreds and thousands of gusts of wind collided and rushed through the cathedral. Everyone's clothes were whipped by the wind, their hems making sharp, mournful sounds. In the gale, thunderclap after thunderclap sounded, as if God was enraged.
“Your Majesty!!”
Amidst the astonishment of the crowd, Madam Kelly's joyful voice stood out, even breaking through the continuous rumble of thunder.
Everyone turned to look back at the high platform.
On the platform, Adele slowly stood up, gripping her crown tightly with both hands. The silver points and the facets of the jewels pricked her flesh.
The scent of an impending downpour was carried in, enveloping the land. High in the sky, countless mountains of dark clouds surged from all directions, gathering together. The sun that had just been scorching the earth was completely obscured, and the restless crowd outside the cathedral fell into a deathly silence.
People stared up blankly, one after another, becoming silent statues.
The light cast by the huge rose windows in the middle of the four facades disappeared. Candles hadn't been lit yet, and the cathedral plunged into darkness. The thunder god drove his chariot, rumbling through the sky. The glass windows trembled with dull rumbles and sharp cracks.
Lightning slashed across the sky.
Adele turned to face everyone in the cathedral, raising the crown high.
Archbishop Rhodri had been standing on the steps, but at this moment, he involuntarily stepped back.
His pupils reflected Adele standing in the light.
Lightning illuminated her cold face clearly. She stood in the circular light cast by the rose window high above the main entrance of the cathedral. One side of her fine linen robe clung tightly to her body in the wind, while the other billowed and fluttered. Her figure was exposed, but no one, not even the most lustful man, would notice that at this moment—a majesty, a god-like majesty, enveloped Adele.
She was a rose.
A resilient and beautiful rose facing the gale.
A rose forged from iron and gold, from the most intricate and hardest materials, which no one but God could have crafted.
Cold wind poured in, and the world was shrouded in gloom and deep blue.
Adele stood before the statue of God, pale lightning illuminating her cold face. In everyone's gaze, she steadily placed the crown upon her head.
She crowned herself.
There was no Pope, no holy oil, no God, only herself and those who should submit to her.
Before Adele's eyes flashed the executioner's raised blade from her previous life, the shadows cast by circling crows. Those past events were forever dispelled at this moment.
She grasped the crown that belonged to her, grasping the glory that had once been stripped away.
“I am Adele Roland.”
The stained-glass windows with leaded frames on the central wall of the cathedral's west facade, depicting saints, crossed the barriers of time and space, gathering together. They jointly participated in this special coronation ceremony. Lightning crisscrossed, and the Queen's shadow was infinitely magnified and stretched, even overshadowing the statue of God standing behind her.
She spread her arms, her linen dress becoming her regal robe.
“I am the daughter of two kings, I am the King of Roland!”
The torrential rain arrived, flooding the entire world.
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