“Then take care of each other. This isn’t your Boy Scout summer camp; this is a battlefield.” Her voice choked up.
Albert hugged her tightly, feeling his eyes grow warm. He whispered, “If Father wants you to leave the capital, can you try to make him go with you?”
Mrs. Seleberg trembled slightly. As a marshal’s wife, she understood her son’s words.
“I will, Albert.”
Later that night at the Seleberg residence, the master returned near midnight. Mrs. Seleberg had already rested, and the house was dark except for the light in the study.
Albert stood by the large table with the imperial star-type simulation map, operating the fleet with a remote control. Seeing his father return, he put it down. “Would you like some tea, Father?”
“Coffee, please.” The marshal sat on the sofa opposite his son. “I’ll probably be up late tonight, with many documents to organize.”
“Is the Senate meeting going smoothly?”
“Same as always,” the marshal replied. “How are the preparations for tomorrow’s expedition?”
“I had a video conference after dinner, and everything has been arranged.”
“Albert said, ‘The list of accompanying personnel is compiled. Would you like to review it?’
‘Put it aside, I’ll look at it,’ the marshal replied. ‘I’ve always been at ease with you.’
‘Thank you, Father.’
‘How is your mother?’
‘Mother is always strong.’
‘But she is still a woman,’ the marshal looked at Albert, ‘So, don’t make her sad. Come back safely.’
‘I will,’ Albert nodded solemnly.
The marshals’ pride and guilt swelled as he looked at the handsome young man before him.
The butler brought coffee, which the marshal did not touch. The bitter aroma spread through the quiet house, intensifying the reluctance of this moment before war.
‘You’ve sacrificed a lot for this family, Albert,’ the father began. ‘You’ve been in and out of the palace since childhood, almost without a childhood. For the family, you’ve flattered people you don’t like, neglecting your own feelings.’
Albert felt uncomfortable with the sudden sentiment. ‘Why are you saying this, Father? I don’t think so.’
‘Enough, you know how bad I am at father-son conversations,’ the Seleberg Marshal waved his hand. ‘Scheming and flattery should be left to politicians. I’m not proud of this, son. You are a soldier. It may sound proud, but soldiers should fight hard on the battlefield.'”
Otherwise, you’re wasting your time.”
“I know, Father,” Albert said. “I want to help you as much as possible.”
The marshal nodded, approvingly. “You have never disappointed me. I’m worried about you, son. You’re still young and have taken on too much responsibility.”
“Please don’t say that, Father.” Albert smiled. “I’m the son of a marshal. This is my way of life. I enjoy the honors that come with my status and want to give something back. What I do is for this family.”
“But you are the future of this family, Albert,” his father said. “Your mother and I care about you. We hope you can pay more attention to what you want, rather than just the family’s perspective.”
“What I want is what the family wants, Father,” Albert said firmly. “My interests are the family’s interests.”
“Don’t be too absolute,” his father replied with a faint smile. “You’re still young. You will encounter things more worthy of your attention in the future.”
“Are you worried about the war, Father?”
“Partly,” the Seleberg Marshal sighed lightly. “I’m more worried about you, son.”
Albert met his father’s concerned gaze and nodded gratefully. The Seleberg Marshal was a soldier, slightly lacking in emotion, so they rarely had such conversations.
Perhaps because tomorrow was Albert’s first official battlefield, or because the current political situation was delicate, both father and son were somewhat emotional.
“I’ll be fine, Father. I’ll follow my superiors’ orders and complete this mission excellently,” Albert said firmly.
The Seleberg Marshal nodded solemnly, “I know you won’t disappoint me, son. Have you written to the Duchess of Rockston?”
The sudden change of topic caught Albert off guard. He stammered, “Not yet, Father.”
“You should write to her,” the Seleberg Marshal smiled bitterly. “She is your fiancée now, although this is still confidential. You should send her a letter or call to extend your regards.”
Chapter 41 When the communication device’s incoming call light lit up, Wilhelmina had not yet fallen asleep.
She had found a first edition of the ancient “Sherlock Holmes Collection” in the castle’s library. The old English was difficult to read, but she was fascinated. Cynthia came in and persuaded her several times before she finally put down the book.
The communicator was set to light and vibration alerts. Wilhelmina looked puzzled as she brought the device in front of her eyes. She was under strict surveillance, and all communications had to pass through Captain Kazman before reaching her. Who would call her at this hour?
The screen displayed “AS,” abruptly dispelling Wilhelmina’s sleepiness. She sat up, holding the communicator in a daze, then quickly activated the sound wave shield before answering the call.
Albert stood barefoot in white pajamas, facing the bedroom’s gallery window, gazing at the starry sky. The communicator on the windowsill showed “Currently talking to Roeslein.” He heard subtle sounds of breathing and fabric rustling through the microphone, aware that it was simply because Wilhelmina had already gone to bed.
Wilhelmina cleared her throat, unsure why she felt cautious. She blurted out, “Not asleep yet?” This unexpected greeting made Albert smile warmly.
“Not yet. Did I wake you?”
“It’s okay, I just went to bed,” she replied softly.
There was a brief awkward silence, during which both felt constrained and embarrassed. In this ambiguous moment, Albert’s magnetic voice broke through: “There’s been an uprising in the Democratic Party , and I’m going to war tomorrow.”
Wilhelmina was shocked by the explosive news, her scalp tingling. “When? How? You’re going to war?”
A low laugh vibrated against her eardrum. “You don’t know yet, or they won’t tell you. It broke out early this morning. This was inevitable.”
“Yes… yes, I know,” Wilhelmina said, feeling her communicator grow hot. “Is it serious?”
“Her Majesty is furious. I haven’t seen her, but the situation is urgent. The Senate hopes she will agree to negotiations, but she still refuses. I’m leading troops tomorrow.”
“But you can’t suppress the rebel army?” Wilhelmina asked urgently.
“Of course not,” Albert replied calmly. “General Maxwell is the main commander this time. I’m just a captain. This is my first time on the battlefield.”
“What will you do then?”
“Negotiate,” Albert said. “They have weapons, and we won’t go unarmed.”
“Won’t Annabel be suspicious?”
Albert laughed. “Let me give you a tip, my lady. ‘Stalemate’ is a very good excuse for someone like Annabel.”
Wilhelmina chuckled. “How cunning.”
“We’re just using a little trick to buy more time.”
Wilhelmina pondered, “So there won’t actually be a war?”
“Sort of?” Albert shrugged. “For a soldier, this is an awkward situation.”
We long for war to establish merit, but we also long for peace.”
“I thought defeating the opponent without losing a soldier was the art of war,” he added. “My words don’t count. I’m just a half-military school student, maybe slightly better than Annabel.”
“You’re right, Wilhelmina,” Albert agreed softly. “We’ll try to resolve things before they worsen. After that, I think we can announce our engagement.”
This time, Wilhelmina accepted him calling her by her name, finding it a novel and exciting change.
Two strangers united by common interests quickly formed a bond of trust, often communicating as if they knew each other for a long time. Wilhelmina was unsure about the source of this trust.
“Do your parents know about us?” she asked.
