Chapter 1592: Chapter 1592

"What does it matter? Miss Capet has no claim to the throne. The Church of All Things and Nature is simply fishing in troubled waters, and Her Majesty the Queen wants to muddy them further. Her agenda doesn't conflict with ours."

Jenkins answered from inside the carriage.

"Is that woman, Miss Capet, a friend of yours? Or is it something more... like your relationships with Miss Hersha and Miss Mikhail?"

"No, she's just a friend."

She repeated the word in a deliberately misleading tone. Jenkins simply huffed, not bothering to refute her. It was clear Miss Windsor was just teasing him.

Beyond the small talk, Miss Windsor used the journey to inform Jenkins which of the people arriving today were Queen Isabella’s truly favored candidates. Through her briefing, Jenkins learned about his supposed rivals and discovered most were already active in politics. Looking back, it became clear that the Queen's grand design had been set in motion long ago.

Of course, Miss Windsor also told Jenkins not to feel pressured. Public opinion, along with most of the aristocracy, favored choosing the next monarch from among the legitimate royal descendants. This, she explained, was precisely why the Queen had gone to such great lengths in her scheming, and why Miss Windsor herself had decided to abandon her own pursuit of the throne to support Jenkins.

Miss Windsor remarked wistfully, which made Jenkins wonder how everything would have turned out if he had never come to this world.

Miss Windsor was undoubtedly a woman of exceptional ability, but without the Queen's grand machinations, her own path to the throne would have been fraught with peril. Jenkins could easily imagine the setbacks, hardships, failures, and constant struggles she would have faced. It would have been an incredibly arduous road, yet if Miss Windsor had truly persevered, success would not have been entirely out of reach.

"So, could Miss Windsor possess one of the so-called King Souls?"

He wondered, mentally comparing her to the Tree Soul, Dragon Soul, Ice Soul, and Dark Soul. Yet, he felt that Miss Windsor didn't match any of them.

"But the sludge I destroyed—the one hidden in the comb—did say that the host of the Dark Soul must endure great hardship and torment to acquire such a soul. Perhaps..."

As the thought crossed his mind, he nonchalantly took out his monocle. Seizing the opportunity as Miss Windsor turned to open the carriage window, he swiftly brought the lens to his eye.

Through this monocle fused with a suspicious lens, whether he was looking at Chocolate, a unicorn, or his family, he would only see a phantom silhouette appear behind them, representing their soul. The phantom's vibrancy would change depending on if and how strongly they used their supernatural powers. This time, however, as he looked at Miss Windsor, Jenkins clearly saw a tiny black flame burning quietly in her chest, right where her heart was.

This wasn't an aura, so the black color didn't mean it was a Cursed Item. Still, it was highly unusual. If the sludge had been telling the truth when it claimed it "could find King Souls," then the lens it left behind might very well be what allowed him to see a King Soul with his own eyes.

"Could this be the Dark Soul? If I had never appeared, would Miss Windsor have nurtured this wisp of a King Soul to maturity after a series of tragic experiences?"

He couldn't be sure if this thing in its current flame-like state was a fully matured Dark Soul, an undeveloped King Soul, or not a King Soul at all. But one thing was certain: Miss Windsor was inextricably linked to the legend of the Four King Souls. If he could just get a look at the other three, Jenkins knew he could confirm exactly what he had seen.

"I'll have to find an opportunity to check Queen Isabella for the Tree Soul. There are no leads on the Dragon Soul for now, but the Ice Soul..."

He was almost certain that if the King Souls were real, then the Ice Soul had to be among the arriving delegation from the northern kingdom—and likely belonged to Dolores herself.

Realizing he would soon have his answer, Jenkins discreetly put his monocle away. He acted as if nothing had happened and continued his discussion with Miss Windsor about the challenges that lay ahead.

Their party soon reached the eastern outskirts of the city, where a crowd had already gathered. Reporters from Bel Diran, citizen representatives, local envoys, guards, servants, and a host of other figures attending the welcoming ceremony had arrived long before them.

It was not until four o'clock in the afternoon that, after a long wait, the crowd finally saw the enormous airship appear in the northern sky. The vessel's descent took some time, so by the time the formal reception was set to begin, it was nearly five o'clock in the evening.

Descending from the airship to the ground involved a long flight of stairs, and it would take a while for all the passengers to disembark. For this reason, the ceremony was not held beside the airship, but in a grand hall that had been constructed nearby years ago, though it had never been used until now.

As this marked the first visit by a monarch of the Hamparvo Kingdom to the Fidektri Kingdom in three hundred years, the Queen had spared no expense in preparing the reception. A fifteen-gun steam cannon salute fired bursts of colorful smoke into the sky, and the doors of the grand hall swung open.

A red carpet stretched from the doorway toward the Queen and the enormous welcoming party arrayed behind her, a sea of royal family members, nobles, and officials, all dressed in their most formal attire. Guards standing ramrod straight beside the carpet puffed out their chests and shouted a synchronized salute, immediately followed by the long-waiting orchestra striking up a celebratory anthem.

The invited reporters and their assistants had long since set up their cameras, waiting with bated breath amidst the deep, resonant notes of the trombones. The moment King Salsi II and the Stuarts appeared from around the corner, the popping explosions of flashbulbs merged into a near-continuous roar.

The citizen representatives from Bel Diran, having arrived much earlier and waited for hours, erupted in a thunderous cheer under the nervous watch of the police outside. Ladies in the crowd waved their handkerchiefs, and gentlemen doffed their hats in a gesture of respect.

King Salsi II was dressed in a formal uniform covered in medals, a red cape draped over his shoulders. In his left hand, he held a cane topped with a golden bear head. He accepted no assistance, striding onto the red carpet with confidence and nodding his thanks to the citizens waiting behind the police line. Following close behind him were the Stuarts, their expressions varied but united by the matching gray capes they wore. Farther back still were the other nobles and officials of the delegation.

Likewise, the silver-haired Queen Isabella also moved forward unassisted, leading her retinue of royal family members and local nobles of every rank to meet her guest. Thıs text ıs hosted at novel⁂fire.net

Standing behind the Queen, Jenkins stared in surprise at Sarrot Stuart, who followed King Salsi II. His left arm had been severed during the incident at the Ice and Snow Festival, which had led Jenkins to declare him disqualified from the line of succession. When Jenkins had seen the prince in Ruen not long ago, his left arm was still missing, but now, his left sleeve was no longer empty.

"A wooden prosthesis?"

He could make out the portion visible past the cuff, but his gaze shifted to King Salsi II in confusion. To bring Sarrot here meant the king still considered him a viable heir. Apparently, the monarch didn't mind his successor being short an arm.