“There will be a media conference tonight at the Hall of Heroes, and we must all attend. I know this is difficult for you, but I need your help and support. Without grandfather’s protection, we must unite and support this empire,” she said movingly.
Her mother and sisters were excited, while her father Heinrich gazed sadly at his father’s body.
“Father, did you hear my words?” Annabel asked displeased. Heinrich finally turned, and Princess Marianna linked arms with him as they walked out.
When Heinrich reached the door, he choked and covered his face, crying, “Father…”
Princesses Catherine and Marianna embraced him, crying together as the door closed behind them.
Wilhelmina and Karns huddled together, silently watching. Annabel had shown her tough demeanor; she paused, wiped her eye corner, then led the way out.
The royal family left the Palace of Serenity.
News of the emperor’s death had spread beyond the palace, with dignitaries gathered in the corridor, silent and some softly sobbing.
Wilhelmina and Karns, hand in hand, followed the adults through the path cleared by the dignitaries. Annabel led the way, and everyone knelt, addressing her as “Your Majesty.” The young queen clenched her teeth, her expression unclear whether from grief or suppressed joy.
This was Wilhelmina’s second funeral in the royal gardens; the last time, she buried her father.
In the magnificent mausoleum, Alexander I’s coffin was placed in a tomb designed as a small palace, mirroring the Golden Sparrow Palace of his childhood. Pink roses surrounded the cemetery, with water lilies waiting for summer in the pools. The emperor’s statue stood at the entrance, hand on a cane, gazing into the distance.
Under remaining snow, black earth was exposed, and red-beaked birds pecked for food. The sky was clear, and the air still cold, with breath condensing into white mist.
The priests chanted a tedious hymn, while the guests were lost in thought. Wilhelmina gazed at the black coffin trimmed with gold, a scene that echoed two other funerals etched in her memory. At twelve, she had witnessed far too many funerals.
Everyone stood up and began to sing the requiem. Hans Borg stood behind Wilhelmina, helping her wrap her shawl tighter.
A sharp gaze was cast upon him. The secretary, with a military background, looked back keenly.
