“Oh my God!” Wilhelmina laughed again, “I’m almost jealous! I don’t have such loyal fans!”
“You have me, my dear,” Albert said, taking her hand and kissing it. “I’ll always be your faithful servant.”
Wilhelmina leaned over and exchanged a light kiss with her husband.
Albert’s wound has been stitched up, and after rehabilitation, his left hand has regained about 80% of its previous functionality. However, the bullet’s passage through the muscle caused irreversible damage, preventing full recovery.
This made Wilhelmina feel guilty. To make amends, she urged the quick granting of legal status to the prince in the government.
The couple’s harmonious relationship was widely appreciated. Queen Annabel, who had not married or had children since her coronation, faced instability in the royal power. Ministers hoped the queen and her consort would soon have a child to secure an heir, but the newlyweds were comfortable and not in a hurry.
The Floydin Manor assassination report was delivered to Wilhelmina during breakfast, along with coffee. The head of security who accompanied it seemed to have significantly thinned hair in just two weeks.
“Let’s have breakfast together, Mr. Stroz,” Wilhelmina told the servant to add an extra set of cutlery, “I hope you like tuna sandwiches.”
The head of security sat down, feeling constrained.
Although Prince Albert smiled and even poured coffee for him, his expression remained stiff.
Wilhelmina read the report and understood why the head of security was nervous. She put down the folder and waved her hand; the servant silently retreated. Albert glanced up from the newspaper, casting a questioning glance.
“Annabel and the ‘Earth Mother Cult’?” she said carefully. “This is quite a new term.”
“It’s a derivative of the early Earth Cult, Your Majesty,” the head of security explained. “After the crackdown on the Earth Cult fourteen years ago, the organization went underground and became a cosmic wandering gang. Now intelligence suggests they have split into the ‘Earth Mother Cult’, ‘Liberators’, and ‘Mocha Cult.'”
“Coffee?”
“No, Your Majesty,” the head of security laughed awkwardly. “Those are the names of the sects.”
Wilhelmina’s expression was strange. “I know this is not a joke, sir. But I’m curious about who would name their organization like this?”
