RLQ - Chapter 4
Chapter 4: Viper and Flower
"You should be grateful I haven't thrown you onto the pyre, instead of arrogantly demanding I work for you," the Archbishop hissed in a low voice. "You witch of the Roland family."
"Can you not see this hellish scene? The rebels and Dalton are at a stalemate. Once war breaks out, the jackal-like enemies will tear Roland apart. Blood and fire will rise to our ankles, even to the horses' bits, and the skulls of the dead will pile up on this holy ground..." Adele spoke rapidly. "God loves the world. He sent you into this world to save people for Him, not to create evil for Him!"
"The reason for these disasters is you, a heretic woman who has desecrated the throne."
"Believe what you will," Adele interrupted him. "But right now, I am the one who will beat swords into plowshares! I want you to deliver a letter to Heinrich for me. Both sides must negotiate before the Yage Kingdom's fleet arrives. As for me, once everything is settled, you can use all your eloquence to send me into the flames. Let your God judge who the sinner truly is!"
Her cheeks flushed crimson with emotion, complementing her rose-colored eyes. The light filtering down from the dome gilded her face, giving her a saint-like beauty, somewhere between sorrow and utter abandon, possessing a terrifying, trembling magic.
"Get out, heretic."
The Archbishop closed his eyes, as if trying to break free from this dazzling scene.
"What?" Adele let out a scornful laugh. "Is this how you 'saints' deal with heretics? By closing your eyes and ears, refusing to see or hear? Cowards."
The Archbishop didn't answer, reaching out to push her away, but Adele preemptively moved closer—she grabbed his collar with one hand, her full weight pressing against him. They were so close that the Archbishop could clearly feel her warm, rapid breaths.
"Open your eyes, look at me."
The Queen commanded.
Perhaps a demon manifested at that moment, or perhaps the soul of Salome resided in her voice. The prophet of a thousand years ago closed his eyes tightly, thus escaping the fate of being tempted. The Archbishop strove to become a saint, but ultimately had not yet achieved sainthood—though the moment he opened his eyes, he felt regret.
Adele didn't give him another chance to close his eyes.
His pupils instantly dilated. In that moment, he thought the Queen was mad—she was tightly gripping a diamond hairpin, its sharp metal tip pointed directly at her own carotid artery.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing?!" the Archbishop asked, a mix of shock and fury.
Adele, of course, knew exactly what she was doing.
The reason she chose the Archbishop was that he was the last person in Roland's history to be canonized. Although he was a stubborn Old God Sect follower, during the thirty years of chaos, he had done his utmost to shelter refugees, and countless people had received his help and relief.
If Adele were to make a comparison, she would say that an Archbishop Rhodri who wished nothing more than to throw her onto the pyre was better than a dozen nobles whose loyalty was questionable. At the very least, the former's character was somewhat guaranteed, retaining a shred of pity for the poor.
"If you refuse me," she said, "I will kill myself immediately."
Seeing the Archbishop's suddenly changed expression, the Queen laughed aloud.
"I have a loyal maid, she's right outside," Adele said, her voice sweet as she uttered vicious words. "Once I'm dead, she will immediately bring people rushing in—the Queen committed suicide resisting the Old God Sect Archbishop's rape. Do you think this scandal is enough to deal a devastating blow to the Old God Sect? Will the New God Sect seize the opportunity to launch a massive attack?"
"You..." the Archbishop muttered, "Madwoman!"
"There's no other way," the Queen said softly. "I have nothing... It makes no difference anyway, does it? It will still ignite a war. The lives of millions, heretics and believers alike, will die because of your refusal. If I go to hell, you'll have to come with me."
She was smiling, but her eyes slowly reddened.
Hot tears fell, leaving small dark marks on the Archbishop's black monastic robe.
He was completely stiff, saying nothing.
Madam Kelly stood in the colonnade, maintaining a calm expression.
Every minute and second felt agonizingly long. Dalton could return to the Day Palace at any moment. Madam Kelly silently recited the names of all the angels and saints she knew, praying for their protection over her mistress. When footsteps sounded, Madam Kelly's heart sank to the bottom.
"Where is Her Majesty the Queen?"
Dalton's gaze swept around, not seeing the Queen near her.
"Her Majesty is praying," Madam Kelly said.
Dalton frowned. "I need to see Her Majesty on urgent business."
"According to doctrine, prayer must not be interrupted."
Madam Kelly did not yield an inch.
"Move aside." Dalton's eyes suddenly sharpened. He gestured, signaling the nearest guards to come and take Madam Kelly away.
"What are you doing to my maid, Sir?"
Adele walked from the other end of the colonnade. Like all devout believers, she wore a relatively simple black dress while praying and no jewelry.
However, she herself surpassed all the jewels in the world.
"I was merely concerned for your safety," Dalton replied, walking closer to the Queen and examining her carefully.
The Queen glanced at him, then instructed Madam Kelly to prepare a change of clothes for her. Madam Kelly curtsied and withdrew, looking worried. Dalton did not order anyone to stop her.
His long fingers, calloused from holding a gun, pressed against the corner of the Queen's eye. "You've been crying. Why?"
"My mother," Adele gazed at the nearby rose garden. "She died in this castle. People said her death was well-deserved."
"Let's hope so." Dalton narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at the church in the sunlight. The Queen's expression was flawless. He warned, "By the way, your brother-in-law is very concerned about your safety."
"How much did he offer?" Adele asked upon hearing this.
Her older sister married into the neighboring Yage Kingdom at seventeen and later unfortunately died of illness. When she was crowned, the King of Yage was furious, believing the throne of Roland should have belonged to his wife—and thus to him. This rebellion, he arrived as quickly as a hyena smelling decay.
"Two hundred thousand gold Rolands," Dalton said. "And his demands are few."
"A complete or incomplete corpse, either is fine, right?" she asked with interest. "Did anyone else make an offer?"
Dalton indeed listed a few more offers: "One hundred twenty thousand plus a ducal territory, one hundred fifty thousand Lunsas..."
"Quite tempting," the Queen commented.
"Indeed. Two hundred thousand gold Rolands is enough for the Pope to sell a king." Dalton took a step forward, forcing the Queen to lean against the carved stone pillar.
Once, a poor king was overthrown by his brother and sought the Pope's protection. His brother offered two hundred thousand to the Pope for his head. The Pope prepared a cup of poison that very day. Seven days later, the king was delivered to his brother, enclosed in a copper box.
"I refused a sky-high reward for you. You wouldn't do anything you shouldn't, would you?" His tone was cold, laced with danger.
Adele knew well that her arrangement for Madam Kelly to be waiting in the colonnade had aroused Dalton's suspicion. His deliberate mention of the various offers was merely a warning because he lacked concrete evidence. If he discovered her plan, he would certainly not let it go.
Sharp, suspicious, and cruel were the synonyms for Dalton in historical records.
Facing Dalton's warning, Adele raised an eyebrow and grabbed the collar of his cloak.
As Dalton instinctively reached for his gun, the Queen's lips were already covering his.
Her lips were still slightly cool, but quickly became burning hot. Like roses, like fire, Dalton's breathing soon became rapid—although his political enemies spared no effort to slander him, sneering behind his back that he was a sexless weapon of war, he was, after all, a man.
An adult, healthy, man.
The hand that had touched the gun handle released, gripping the Queen's shoulders tightly. He quickly seized the initiative. His fingers slid from the corner of the Queen's eye to the back of her head, burying themselves deep in her thick hair. Their kiss was like a battle, a struggle, containing a deadly danger like gunpowder and smoke within the intimacy.
When they separated, both their breaths were slightly ragged.
A little blood seeped from the corner of the Queen's lips. She looked at Dalton, reached up, pressed and smeared her stinging lip. The blood spread like rouge, so vibrant it was enough to stimulate any man's desire for conquest.
"If I did anything," the Queen said with a meaningful, scornful smile, "it must be your problem."
—Don't you want to conquer Roland? And... conquer me.
The Queen's words under the candlelight on the night of the mutiny overlapped with her scorn now. Her almost unreasonable actions became perfectly justified.
Dalton burst into laughter.
"Alright," he said in a tone of compromise. "I came this time to tell you that the Yage Kingdom's fleet has set sail."
Under the candlelight, Heinrich's fingertips met as he intently watched the letter on the table.
The wax seal on the envelope was clear, from a sword and rose signet ring he was very familiar with—it was the Queen's personal seal. And the one who secretly delivered this letter to him was an ascetic from the Temple Knights.
This made things strange.
As the most stubborn branch of the Old God Sect, the Temple Knights had always wished nothing more than to throw the Queen onto the pyre. Their helping the Queen was as unbelievable as angels and demons dancing face to face.
After a moment of silence, Heinrich still brought the letter to the candlelight. After the wax seal slightly melted, he opened it with a paper knife. The Queen's familiar handwriting came into view, no different from before. But soon, Heinrich stood up, as surprised as if he had seen a harmless flower suddenly transform into a dangerous viper.
And that snake was hidden within this thin sheet of paper.
Adele Roland, the student he had abandoned for retaining unnecessary tolerance, kindness, and justice, had undergone such astonishing changes after the mutiny—
She had mercilessly betrayed Robert Dalton.
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