The queen didn't look at Dalton, but just lowered her eyes and stared at the teacup in her hand.
Her expression suddenly became very strange. Dalton had never seen her like that before, neither coquettish nor majestic. The eyelashes cast a light and faint shadow, and time stopped in her eyes, lonely and tired.
The sea breeze swayed the climbing vines on the terrace, casting shadows.
The life that belonged to Adele Roland was cut in half at the moment of her mother's death. The little princess who could sit on her mother's lap and act like a baby was forever buried in the past, leaving only Adele who did her best to stay alive. You have to go beyond conspiracy and assassination, you have to go beyond the malice of the whole world, you have to be calm, you have to keep moving, and you have to think a lot... But in this world, who is destined to boil their flesh and blood to light a candle
Rose-colored eyes are always considered by some people to be a symbol of witches, because the too dark color seems to be born with indistinguishable shadows, and the beauty revealed by them is as ghostly and dangerous as poppies. However, Dalton only felt that for a moment, the profile of the young queen was like a sculpture hidden in history, revealing a silent loneliness.
It makes people touch uncontrollably from the bottom of their hearts, giving up everything to stay by her side, as if as long as she can relax a little bit, she feels extremely happy.
Dalton gently blindfolded the Queen.
"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," said Dalton.
The queen's eyelashes are like the wings of a butterfly when they brush against the palm of your hand.
On the modest secret terrace, cage-like arcs wrap around warm-weather vines. The sunlight was divided into large and small mottled squares, some fell on the ground, some fell on the stone table, and some fell on the quietly sleeping queen. She was half sideways, lying on the Guroland-style Warsaw star chair, her long silver hair was half spread, falling on her shoulders, and Dalton's black coat was covering her body.
Dalton sat beside him, gazing at the profile of her face.
The queen should not have had a good rest since the night of the mutiny. However, she was so good at concealing her weakness that none of the nobles and naval officers realized that she had already reached the end of exhaustion, and she couldn't show a look of helplessness. This was the first time Dalton saw the queen resting with her eyes closed, with a faint tiredness in her eyes.
She couldn't see those eyes with many thoughts hidden, she vaguely looked like a quiet girl sitting on the lighthouse and looking at the sea that has never changed. So beautiful, with untouchable holiness.
Dalton leaned against the railing, raised his hands, and looked at the calluses left by holding guns and swords for many years. These were bloody hands that were once ambitious. A long time ago, there was neither a majestic "war machine" nor an imperial marshal with outstanding military achievements, but only a child living in a gloomy slum.
The people of the slums, like maggots and flies that live on carrion, are ignored and trampled by.
From an early age, that slum boy knew that to stand upright and survive he had to fight and bite with all his might until he had power in his hands. To him, the world is like a huge battlefield, with only gunpowder and enemies.
But today the world seems to have suddenly changed and shrunk, leaving only the small secret terrace of the official residence.
Dalton took out a small wooden box from his pocket and opened it.
Inside is a beautifully crafted jeweled hair pin held in soft velvet. That was the only thing he took with him when he left the Papal State, where jewelry made by a goldsmith was the most popular among the nobles. Passing by a goldsmith's shop, Dalton caught a glimpse of the hairpin behind the window, a gold vine studded with berry-like rubies.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a little crimson light flickering in the window, and before he realized what he was thinking, he got off his horse and hurried in.
The adjutant dismounted and walked into the shop without knowing why, and when he saw him standing in front of the hairpin, he immediately showed a knowing smile and sneaked over.
"You want to give it to...?" The adjutant who was behind didn't say anything, and winked at him.
Dalton glanced at him: "Is it that obvious?"
"Ruby, isn't it obvious enough?" The adjutant beamed with joy, "Boss, you now look like a boy who is hesitant to give a gift to his sweetheart, worried that she will not accept it and that she will not like it. She is wearing this hair pin It must look good, don't hesitate."
Dalton kicked the dog-headed strategist who had been unable to catch up with his lover, and finally bought the hairpin.
He suddenly remembered a couple he met when he was still living in the slums. The husband is dumb. The room where they live is next to the smelly ditch and the garbage dump. The mute will pick a flower and put it in the broken cup by the window every day. Then one day the mute went out and never came back. It happened every day in the slums, and the women went on groping about as if nothing had changed when their husbands died. Until one day, someone pointed out to her a flower blooming in the mud next to the garbage dump.
The woman looked at the flowers and burst into tears.
After many years, Dalton suddenly understood something.
Like a person, like to hide in a flower, like to hide in a color because she will pay attention to it subconsciously. Love is a special kind that cannot be hidden. When others see you standing in front of the window and looking at a hair pin made of ruby, they will know that you are thinking of another person.
Dalton picked up the hair pin that he hid all the way and brought Roland back from the Papal Kingdom, and carefully pinned it on the queen's beautiful silver hair before she woke up. At this time, the hand that shot the horse with the right shot was sweating a little nervously, perhaps because she was still sleeping with her eyes closed, and she still had a lot of thoughts on her side.
When she retracted her hand, a strand of her hair fell on her finger.
Dalton looked down at the lock of hair, and after a moment, kissed the ends of the hair lightly and quickly.
The queen promised an afternoon, and it was only an afternoon. In the evening, she woke up. Dalton has never seen anyone like her, who lives with precision like a machine whose gears never let go, and arranges things clearly and without any mistakes at all times.
A person lives his life like a machine, no wonder Mrs. Kelly is worried about her every day.
Dalton leaned against the railing, stood by his side, and looked down at her.
The sunset spread across the sky, the scale-like clouds moved with the wind, and the red sun fell towards the sea level. The shadow of the balcony railing was stretched very long. When Adele opened her eyes, the setting sun and the shadow fell into her eyes at the same time. It was a bizarre scene that even the best painter could not describe, the darkness intertwined like an unreal dream.
In just a short moment, the hazy eyes receded and became as clear and sharp as usual, almost making people wonder if she had really rested.
"Good evening, Your Majesty."
Dalton smiled at her.
In the distance, the lights of the Sun Tower at the port were lit, and the light from the lighthouse dyed the rapidly darkening sky. Adele stood on the terrace for a while, looking at the fleet and ships at the pier. When the wind blew, she felt that there was something extra in her hair, so she raised her hand to touch it.
Dalton, his coat slung over his arm, watched her reaction intently.
After discovering that there was an extra hair pin, Adele turned her head and glanced at him. She didn't say anything, but she didn't take it off either.
"His Majesty."
Mrs Kelly entered the secret terrace and bowed to the Queen. Dalton stayed here for an afternoon, and she actually stayed there for an afternoon. In fact, Dalton's request can be regarded as completely inconsistent with court etiquette, but Mrs. Kelly, who was guarding outside the terrace, didn't say anything.
Compared with etiquette, she hoped that the queen could take a good rest.
"Archbishop Rodrik seeks an audience," Mrs. Kelly said.
…………………
Archbishop Rodri has been waiting for a while.
Some of the people who died on the night of the rebellion were clergymen, and there is no doubt that the church property of these clergymen was taken over by the royal family-speaking of which, since the Holy Judgment, the royal family has become more and more proficient in doing this. The church and monastery documents related to it were taken away by Archbishop Rodri and the Knights of the Temple. This part of the information had always been independent of the royal family's control.
But now who dares to refuse the queen's order? At least now in Rose Strait, she is as majestic as the sun lighthouse.
Before stepping into the audience room, Archbishop Rodri met Dalton in the corridor with a black coat casually draped over his shoulders. A faint familiar aroma remained on Dalton's coat.
Archbishop Rodri paused, and said in a flat tone: "I heard that Cardinal Luvis intends to invite you to be the commander of the Pope's army."
"It's just a fool's whimsy." Dalton glanced at him casually, and suddenly sneered, "However, Archbishop Rodriguez was considered the believer most likely to be canonized in the past, why is he now not only violating the doctrine but also becoming a spy chief Is it? There are quite a lot of eyes that belong to you inside and outside Roland."
On the first day back to Roland, Dalton noticed that the vigilant forces around the Queen had been replaced by the Templar Knights under Archbishop Rodriguez. Zhang's pervasive intelligence network.
Dalton knew in his heart that this intelligence network was undoubtedly inspired by the Queen. The military power of the Knights Templar expanded during this time, which to a certain extent played a role in checking and balancing the army under him. The intelligence network set up by the queen was indiscriminately aimed at any official in Roland's court. This was a sharp sword from the monarch. This method of checking and balancing power happened when he traveled thousands of miles to the Papal Kingdom.
how to say…
Quite the Queen.
No matter how fragile she looked when she closed her eyes and rested, those wrists could not be more iron-blooded. In other words, in the sunset on the terrace, her rare softness is like the beauty of poppy, full of poison, becoming another dangerous comfort.
What he likes is an extremely standard monarch, but this does not prevent Dalton from looking down on Archbishop Rodri.
An extreme displeasure at having his territory usurped.
"You should observe court etiquette."
Archbishop Rodri didn't seem to hear his mockery to himself. The friar's toga made him tall and thin, with a faint shadow cast by his browbones.
"Since you are from the Loput area, if you don't know what etiquette is, I don't mind asking His Majesty to find a qualified teacher for you."