Chapter 1554: Chapter 1554

Late last autumn, after receiving the Ritter Prize and his title, Jenkins had visited Cold Spring Palace once before. Miss Windsor had joined them at the table on that occasion, but this time, it was only the aged queen and Jenkins.

She looked frail, and indeed she was. The skin on her face hung so loosely it seemed ready to peel away from her skull. While she didn't require the assistance of her servants to walk, her tendency to pause every few steps was deeply concerning.

The public affectionately called her Her Majesty, while official documents referred to her as "Queen Isabella." She had reigned for over fifty years, making her the longest-serving monarch since the fall and fragmentation of the ancient Sicari Empire.

She sat at one end of a long table draped in white linen, with Jenkins seated to her left. The elderly queen seemed genuinely pleased by his presence. They began with small talk, inquiring if his journey back from Ruen had been pleasant, before moving on to the recent weather and the incident he and his friends had experienced at the city hall that afternoon.

Half an hour passed before they finally broached the real subject of their meeting. With a slow yet still elegant motion, the queen dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin and set down her cutlery. Recognizing the shift, Jenkins understood it was time for serious discussion and placed his glass on the table.

"The day before yesterday, I met with your father—not here, but just outside Cold Spring Palace. He's a fascinating man, quite witty and remarkably perceptive. We didn't discuss a great deal, but we did touch upon your family's history. Jenkins, I assume you are already aware that your great-grandfather was an illegitimate child of the royal family.

We won't delve into the peculiar love stories of that generation; let the past remain in the past. But I must say, I am grateful to my ancestors. Otherwise, I wouldn't have so many options before me now."

She spoke slowly, and Jenkins listened intently. Though he was already aware of these facts, hearing them confirmed by Queen Isabella herself made him sigh at the sheer unpredictability of fate.

"I am personally quite unwilling to hand the crown to that foreigner from Cheslan. Even without this current war, I would still refuse. That southerner is simply not worthy. As for the other potential heirs, their connection to the royal bloodline is far too remote. To pass the crown to them would be to allow the glorious Middleton family to perish under my watch. That is why I was so pleased when your family emerged. It presented me with another choice. Jenkins—if I may call you that—do you know why you were the first one I summoned to Cold Spring Palace?"

"Because we've met before and are more familiar with each other?"

Jenkins deliberately offered an incorrect answer.

"No. It is because, in the eyes of others, you are the most suitable candidate. We are not the only ones paying attention to this conversation. As this whole affair begins, I want people to know that I will not make any moves that would startle them."

The old queen gave a gentle, kindly chuckle.

"They all worry this old fool will have a moment of weakness and hand the crown to young Miss Windsor. She is an exceptional girl—truly exceptional. Her talent, abilities, and lineage are all quite impressive. It's a pity..."

Jenkins had no response to that, so he simply looked at her without speaking.

"But that's a digression. Jenkins, while the factional disputes within the kingdom aren't severe, this crown on my head is not something I can simply give away. There are matters I must attend to before everyone will accept the heir I choose. It's more troublesome than I anticipated, but everything is still under control.

I must admit, I had a personal reason for inviting you here today. Jenkins, I am very curious—what are your thoughts on the position of king?"

"Responsibility and duty."

"You don't see the power that comes with it?"

"Oh, yes. There's power, too."

The queen nodded gently.

"Don't feel pressured, young man. I have great faith in you; you are a man capable of great things. Jenkins, I want you to be prepared. I cannot give you a definite promise right now, but your prospects are greater than anyone else's."

She reached out as if to pat his shoulder, but the effort sent her into a fit of coughing. Jenkins immediately rose and gently patted her back to help her catch her breath. The queen gestured for him to sit back down.

"Don't let my current state fool you; I can hold on for a good while longer. Yes, and there is one other thing. I should have promoted you to Viscount long ago, but so much has happened this year that we simply couldn't find the time. Are you available tomorrow? I'm hosting a banquet at Cold Spring Palace—it was already planned to celebrate the victory in the Broken Isles Campaign. I must award honors to those young men of the navy, and I know the young enjoy a good party. I thought I might confer your title of Viscount during the banquet and settle both matters at once. Oh, and I suppose you'll need a small parcel of land. That way, you'll have a proper prefix to your title."

"I'm available tomorrow."

Jenkins replied, then asked,

"Will my family be attending the banquet?"

"They will. Since it is your investiture, and your family happens to be in Bel Diran, they must certainly be invited. Of course, many other people will be in attendance as well. You're a clever man. Do you understand what I mean?"

Jenkins understood. This would be the Williams family's debut in a formal social setting, marking the unofficial beginning of the royal succession.

"I will be well prepared."

"You may bring your friends. Since the official reason for tomorrow's banquet is to celebrate the complete victory in the Broken Isles Campaign, both Marquis Mikhail and Earl Hersha will be in attendance."

Jenkins's brow furrowed at this. He had assumed both men were recuperating in Nolan, ready to return to the front lines at a moment's notice.

He remained reserved and spoke little. Seeing his caution, the queen said no more, and with that, the conversation that had unfolded over dinner came to a close.

Later, Jenkins presented the two-thirds of the World Tree Seedling. He had thought it might be a token left a century ago by the king who fathered the illegitimate child—an heirloom meant to prove his descendant's lineage. But the queen did not recognize it. Even when Jenkins explained it was a family treasure passed down through generations, she could not identify it as ever having belonged to the Middleton family.

Jenkins was disappointed. He had hoped the item would be a key to uncovering more secrets of the elves.

It was already nine o'clock by the time Jenkins departed from Cold Spring Palace. After dinner, he had been invited to tour the palace's rear gardens while the queen recounted stories of past monarchs and the palace itself. This had taken up quite some time. As it was now rather late, the queen had offered to arrange a carriage to take him home, even asking whether he was currently staying at his own house or at the church. Follow current novels on novel•fire.net

A great deal had happened that evening, and Jenkins needed some time alone to think. He politely declined the offer of a carriage, instead walking through the empty streets of Bel Diran with his cat, enjoying the increasingly warm night breeze of late spring.

He mulled over many things, his own future among them. The matter of the throne had reached its final, critical stage. Indecision at this point would only lead to trouble. Jenkins asked himself if he truly coveted the crown, and the answer came immediately: he did not.

But then he asked himself if he should take it. Logic told him he should—that he should use the crown to quell the conflict between the three great kingdoms and prepare for the final hour that was fast approaching.

he muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. He stood under a streetlight at an intersection, watching a distant carriage hurry past. The only one who seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed the evening's dinner was Chocolate, perched on his shoulder. Somehow, the palace chefs had discovered the cat's preferred menu and provided an abundance of his favorite foods. As a result, for once, the cat had made no attempt to steal Jenkins's attention while he was in conversation.

"I can't believe I forgot to ask about the Cheslan envoy,"

he mumbled to himself, standing at the crossroads and wondering where to go next. He had stayed at the church last night because of his "injury," but he had been cleared to leave today. He could return to his own house, go back to the church, or, if he wasn't worried about being seen, even visit the girls at the Rosalia Inn.

Three roads branched out from under the streetlight, each leading in a different direction. It was a simple choice, yet Jenkins had the distinct feeling that a wrong turn could lead to serious trouble.

"Where do you want to stay tonight?"

He whispered to the cat on his shoulder. Chocolate didn't answer, merely squinting as if savoring the memory of his lavish meal.

In the end, he decided to return to his own house. His position was too sensitive at the moment. To avoid any unforeseen complications, it was best not to stay at the church; it might be misinterpreted as him taking a side. That was also why, before leaving this evening, he had simply passed a note to Papa Oliver rather than going to the church to announce his dinner invitation.

A night fog shrouded the city. It wasn't the product of pollution, but a natural phenomenon of tiny water droplets and ice crystals suspended in the cool air—a unique sight in late spring and early summer, though it proved a minor inconvenience for anyone traveling at night.

He hadn't gone far when he heard the sound of an approaching carriage—the clatter of wheels on flagstones and the jingle of harness bells, sounds that blended harmoniously into the tranquil night. He moved to step aside, but the carriage pulled to a stop right beside him. Turning toward the window, he saw, as he had somehow expected, the face of Miss Windsor.

It was obvious this was no chance encounter. He had just left Cold Spring Palace. Miss Windsor, it seemed, was also keeping a very close eye on the goings-on there.