Wilhelmina, wearing soft-bottomed slippers, stood on the terrace, overlooking the flower sheds on the lawn. Staff were already on-site, gradually moving flowers out of the greenhouses.
Yesterday’s television address was imperial, and at this moment, not just the entire Galactic Empire, but even neighboring regions likely knew everything. How would people feel on the last day of the imperial holiday? Trepidation, anxiety, or hope?
It was at this moment that Wilhelmina felt powerful authority in her hands. After eight years as an obscure princess, she was finally controlling others’ fates.
Footsteps approached. Wilhelmina pulled her shawl closer and turned around.
Albert’s military boots were still wet with dew. He had just returned from the garden, holding a large bouquet of pink carnations.
“I know you love these,” he smiled, handing the flowers to Wilhelmina.
She smiled, tilting her head for a kiss on her cheek.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yes,” Albert adjusted his cap, “The fleet is ready.”
“Leaving me with old man Schneider?” Wilhelmina teased.
“Perhaps you can discuss the future constitutional outline. But be careful, Schneider is cunning – don’t let him deceive you.”
“I’ll hold onto my interests. Besides, Sir Wolf is watching out for me.”
Wilhelmina laughed, linking her arm with Albert’s as they walked back to the room. “There’s still no news from Odin. This isn’t Annabel’s style.”
“I have reliable information that Annabel is unwell.”
“She’s as robust as a lioness.”
“There are many types of illness,” Albert hinted. “You might not be fully aware. But her personal psychologist’s work is not easy.”
“Are you saying that she…” Wilhelmina paused, “I hadn’t considered that.”
I understand why you chose me now. At least, I’m mentally sound.”
Albert smiled, “Wasn’t it you who chose me?”
Wilhelmina’s eyes sparkled with a blend of innocent charm and mature wisdom. Albert felt a surge of excitement in his chest.
Hans Borg and several officers entered the study to join Albert on the expedition. Though Annabel had not responded, war was inevitable. This battle could be arduous or end in total defeat. Regardless, there was no turning back.
Sir Wolf entered with a female attendant carrying a rare vintage wine, specially requested by Wilhelmina in honor of her father. Wilhelmina declined Cynthia’s help and poured wine for the soldiers.
The duchess raised her glass, “My friends, I sincerely wish you victory and safe return.” Everyone drank in one gulp.
Afterward, they filed out of the study, led by Albert. Hans Borg walked last, stopping beside Wilhelmina.
Wilhelmina smiled, linking her arm with his. “Our time together was too short, Owen.”
“I know, Your Highness. But we have plenty of time ahead.”
Wilhelmina sighed softly, “I hate watching your military-clad back. Six years ago, I was almost heartbroken.”
Hans Borg covered her hand on his arm, squeezing it. “I’m sorry.”
“Promise me,” Wilhelmina said seriously, “that you’ll return safely.”
Hans Borg gazed into her sapphire-like eyes, took her hand, and kissed it.
“I promise you, my princess.”
Albert watched their farewell, maintaining a calm demeanor, using a faint smile to conceal his emotions.
“She is a lucky girl,” Schneider remarked behind him. “She has two excellent knights, which is rare. You’re both fortunate—one has her love, and the other has her companionship.”
“But neither is complete,” Albert whispered.
“Oh, come on,” the elder mocked. “There are no perfect things in this world. Your fiancée is youthful, noble, intelligent, and beautiful. What else could you ask for? She has agreed to marry you, so winning her heart should be your task.”
Albert grew curious. “So what are my chances?”
“I can’t say for sure,” Schneider laughed heartily. “But one piece of advice: a person cannot live without a heart. If you want her heart, you must first give her your own.”
Albert smiled, feeling a mix of understanding and confusion.
“That’s how it is,” Schneider said. “Barter is the most primitive rule of human transaction.”
Chapter 50 Author’s Note: In the majestic military music, Wilhelmina, wearing a suit dress draped with a sash, watched the flagship ascend. This scene was captured by reporters and widely circulated.
In the holographic image, Duchess Wilhelmina I looked solemn with a far-reaching gaze. In the background were hundreds of military ships filling the sky, a scene dubbed “daylight stars.” The young woman smiled with a domineering attitude against this starry backdrop.
Viewers were surprised by Wilhelmina’s television speech, noting her transformation from a sweet, shy girl. She spoke gracefully and confidently with measured pacing and emotion. Her eyes displayed a mix of softness and strength, perfectly embodying the royal demeanor.
Wilhelmina’s style was gentler than Annabel’s, yet she was a reformist, a point noted by commentators. They observed that Annabel I’s sharpness was superficial, while Wilhelmina I’s edge was reserved for when it was necessary.
Thus, people compared Wilhelmina I to a feline—gentle but not begging, tolerant but ready to fight back. Like other women in the empire, she remained enigmatic.
The constitutional promise easily won her public support.
The Democratic Party and capitalists celebrated, while ordinary people anxiously anticipated political developments.
This family was no stranger to change. Over 150 years ago, Emperor Wolrich had led the army to overthrow the previous dynasty, replacing it with the Osenberg family banner. The current royal struggle seemed trivial compared to their predecessors.
Annabel’s first order after regaining consciousness was to suppress the rebels. The Queen commanded the imperial army, led by Marshal Brantly, who was reluctant to accept this mission due to his emotional attachment to Selleberg and dissatisfaction with Annabel’s rule.
As Wilhelmina worked with Schneider on the new constitution, news of the frontline confrontation arrived. Wilhelmina’s hand trembled slightly as she held her coffee cup.
“Has the war started?” she asked.
“Not yet, Your Highness,” Sir Wolf said. “But the two armies are already facing each other.”
Wilhelmina put down her coffee.
“I know you don’t like me showing too much compassion, Mr. Schneider. But I feel sorry for the soldiers who will lose their lives in our nobility’s disputes.”
Schneider smiled, slowly sipping his coffee. “There are ways to achieve victory without losing a single soldier. You trust Selleberg and Hansberg, right?”
“Of course.”
Wilhelmina sat down, pondering, “Marshal Brantly is not easily persuaded.”
“There’s no one who can’t be persuaded. The key is striking their weak point. Marshal Brantly is far from a saint.”
“Indeed,” Wilhelmina laughed, “A saint wouldn’t marry a wife younger than his daughter.”
“Not only that,” Schneider added, “Brantly respects Annabel less than Emperor Alexander. He follows orders out of duty. Like all old men, what he loves most is—”
“Reputation,” Wilhelmina said. “That seems more troublesome. He’s been ordered to suppress the rebels.”
“Suppressing rebels can evolve into supporting reform and overthrowing tyranny,” Schneider winked slyly. “Besides, you don’t need to worry about this now. Let Marshal Selleberg handle it.”
Wilhelmina chuckled, “History is just dressing up dolls.”
“I hope you enjoy playing with dolls, Your Highness,” Schneider raised his coffee cup.
Just as Wilhelmina and her team finished afternoon tea and returned to work, new information came from the front.
“Armistice negotiations, Your Highness,” Sir Wolf, usually calm, was somewhat excited. “Marshal Brantly’s fleet is merging with ours.”
Wilhelmina stood up, her face radiant.
“I want to personally send a telegram to thank Marshal Brantly.”
