Footsteps came from the other side of the corridor.
Dalton retracted his fingers and stood up straight with his usual expression.
"follow me."
Mrs. Kelly held up the candle, and the candlelight illuminated the serious face of the queen's most trusted maid.
"Your Majesty wants to see you."
After speaking, she turned around and walked towards the queen's inner hall.
Dalton stood where he was.
He held the cold golden rose in his palm again. He couldn't help but think of the ridicule in Roland's court. Those whispers taunted him like a running dog without dignity, and the queen could make him run back and forth with a look and a gesture. These whispers, intentionally or unintentionally, would always spread throughout the court.
He knows this.
The other main character in the rumors also knows.
How sad.
She knew, she didn't say a word, she plucked her web like a spider, knowingly involved his every move. She was ruthlessly sure that he would do what she wanted, come and go whenever he wanted.
For an instant, Dalton almost leaned back against the post, threw the golden rose to the ground, and sent Mrs. Kelly away with her master's arrogance. Can't she see it? His despair, his unwillingness, the fire of bitterness that was about to tear him apart and destroy him.
She doesn't care.
He was nothing, he knew it.
Dalton almost laughed, at his ignorance, at his irrationality.
The chill penetrated from the depths of the bone marrow, bringing with it the pattering cold rain. He smelled the rust of iron armor, the staleness of mud, the smoke of muskets, and the past of nothingness. The noble disciple's riding boots were crushed on the cheekbones of his face, and he laughed contemptuously and arrogantly at such an insignificant person like him.
Even if he was trampled under his feet, how could he not wear off his unruliness, after grasping his power, how could he be completely wiped out
Mrs. Kelly disappeared at the end of the corridor.
No need to look back, no need to rush.
The whole world is sure that he has degenerated into such a ridiculous lackey. The queen said that no matter when, no matter where, he will arrive eventually.
……………
The Queen sits by candlelight, reading a document.
She let her hair down, and the light of the candles fell on her thick temples, dyeing the silver hair a soft gold. In the past, when sitting by candlelight, the outline of the face would be softened by the light, but everything that happened during this period made the line from cheekbones to jaw more and more thin.
For a monarch, this is probably not a bad thing.
Although the queen's face was not the delicate type of a lady, she was still young after all, and she still had a bit of the softness of her girlhood, which made some stubborn and arrogant people despise her because of her age and appearance. Now, no one feels that way anymore.
She heard footsteps.
"sit down."
The queen signed her name on the official document, and the people who came just stood, and she looked up.
"how?"
Dalton's eyes moved from her to the papers, and then quickly back to her face. She placed the processed documents on her right hand side, and the top one was a request from the House of Lords on how to deal with the territory that once belonged to the Heinrich family—it was more like a quarrel than a request for instructions.
As soon as the two-headed snake fell down, a group of hyenas couldn't wait to surround it, baring their fangs towards the old place of the snake's nest.
They probably didn't know that they were cutting the queen's heart with a knife.
The territory of the two-headed snake family...
It was the last commemoration of Heinrich's last legacy to the queen, and she was replying in her handwriting as usual, considering the balance of all parties, dividing and arranging them as if she were dealing with things without any special meaning . The joys, anger, loves and hates of mortals have been taken out of this exquisite body, just as the priests strongly advocated, as if the divinity had been infused into the king's chest since the coronation and anointing.
The one who survived was no longer Adele Roland, but Queen Roland, the avatar of the gods in the world, a demigod.
In short, it will no longer be a mortal with love, hate and resentment.
His resentment and his love are meaningless, and the person he loves is becoming a heartless idol.
"I thought about my ending."
Dalton said abruptly, his eyes fixed on the queen's thin cheeks, and the light shadow cast by the undulating cheekbones.
"Think about how I'm going to die."
Many soldiers seldom think about what their end will be, because compared with ordinary people, death is closer and within reach for them. It could be this battle, or it could be the next one, they will lose their lives. Only by pretending to forget can we enjoy ourselves in time.
Dalton is not included.
He often thinks about his final fate and how he will die. Only in this way can he feel that at this moment, he is really alive, and he can live with a bit of hatred for the finale through gritted teeth.
"In the past, I always felt that I would die badly. Like all arrogant guys, I would end up being fed by wild dogs. There are also civilians who have gone further than me. After the most powerful days are over, They all fall back into the same mud. I'm no exception."
He is just a commoner with shallow feet, a "martial arts man" among the upper class.
He remembered the riding boots that the noble disciple stepped on his cheeks back then, and in the days that followed, he tore off the noble's face and trampled on the ground recklessly. All the way up, the number of nobles offended is also countless. Those people hated him so much, they gritted their teeth and wanted revenge, and when he fell back into the original swamp, they would crush his flesh and bones into the filth.
He can't be in power forever, he will always lose everything again.
He knew how it would end, so he had no scruples.
Spend recklessly.
"Later, I imagined that after a long time, no one will be able to dust your crown, and your voice will resound across the sea. Maybe then I will be chained and thrown into prison-because of all the past and present. Sorry, but also because you already have countless generals who are willing to fight for you. You don't need to play tricks with a guy who doesn't know what to do."
He had imagined what he would say when he met her for the last time.
wish her well? He is narrow-minded and revengeful, so he has no reason to wish her all the best after spending all his passion and life on her like a saint. Curse her to go to hell with him earlier, and they continue to gnash their teeth in hell? She is a saint, an emperor Roland has never seen before, and she is the one who will be remembered for thousands of years to go to heaven, and he is the only one who will go to hell.
After much deliberation, she felt that she could only push away the guards who were obstructing her, tightly clasped the wrist of this hard-hearted man, and kissed her lips as cold as marble.
But not necessarily.
Maybe she didn't bother to look at him at all, or even throw him in prison, and send an assassin directly, or even simpler, a dose of poison.
Then he must sincerely wish her to go to hell together.
"The best thing is that when your empire was rejuvenating, I died fighting for you. When I died, I had an unrealistic fantasy to expand your territory and quell the war for you. It's still timely, it's still neat, and it's still worth it. You will give me a good cemetery, and then read a few eulogies to thank me for my contribution to the empire. Then you continue to do your work King of Roland, quickly forget me."
Having said that, Dalton gave a short laugh.
"And me? I'm lying in the soil, waiting for you to lay down in the soil after working hard for the empire. In the middle of the day, I just watched you work hard for Roland day and night, and I was lucky enough to get an 'empire' "Hero"—well, that's a disgusting term—so I can bask comfortably in the sun, occasionally listening to see if there are any bards singing my praises."
The queen frowned slightly.
"It doesn't matter whether it's poison or death in battle," his voice became very soft, "anyway, I knew it would end badly from the very beginning. But, my dear majesty, you can't expect a living person who is happy and angry to be with a Is the stone-carved god playing a game that should have been known to each other until death comes?"
"How do stone statues affect the joy, anger, sorrow, and joy of living people?"
He smiled and took out the official document that the queen had just corrected.
"Bishop Aris, Duke Beard, Earl Allen..."
One by one, he read the names of the people behind the request, and then placed the official document in front of the Queen.
"Tomorrow they will come to ask you to let the royal family take full charge of the port and these territories, and they will not bother you with such matters."
"Dalton."
The young marshal, who acted cruelly and recklessly, looked down at her.
"If you don't have resentment and anger, willfulness and selfishness, I'll hate and resent for you. I'm an unscrupulous bastard, you know. So..."
He held hers with icy fingers.
"Please be more self-willed, act recklessly, and don't become an unintentional idol."