“Schneider’s sudden retreat is something I don’t understand,” Wilhelmina said to Hans Boger on the screen. “There was no sign of it beforehand. I always thought he would compete for the prime minister position.”
Hans Boger replied, “Mr. Schneider is not feeling well.”
Wilhelmina was stunned.
Is this the reason you replaced him as the Democratic Party candidate?”
Hans Boger laughed, “Allow me to be a bit boastful. But I feel I’m ready.”
Wilhelmina also laughed, “What’s your slogan?”
“Bureaucratic system reform, and healthcare system reform.”
“Don’t remind me about the current officials,” Wilhelmina rolled her eyes. Then they both laughed.
“How is the Prince’s health?” Hans Boger asked.
“He can have his stitches removed tomorrow,” Wilhelmina replied. “The doctor said he’s recovering well, but still needs rehabilitation. Fortunately, he’s right-handed; otherwise I don’t know what we’d do.”
“The Prince is a good person,” Hans said softly. “I believe he will recover.”
Wilhelmina felt a warm current flow through her heart. “I hope everything goes well in the election, Owen. Albert and I will be watching every day. To be honest, I don’t even know what you’ll look like on the podium. You’re such a quiet person.”
“Will it be strange?”
“No, of course not,” she said. “I’m sure it will be charming.”
The scene was indeed as charming as Wilhelmina had imagined: the thirty-year-old man in his prime, wearing a navy blue suit, a crisp white shirt, and with his hair combed back.
Every movement was full of charm; a glance or a smile conveyed his abundant confidence and composure. He wouldn’t shout with raised arms but would slam the table instead. Without seeking cheap applause, his charm easily won appreciation with small gestures. Steady and composed, his military experience enhanced his credibility. His quick and clear mind allowed him to respond swiftly, providing perfectly timed answers. His style was rigorous, and his simple private life gave political opponents no leverage.
Wilhelmina and Albert watched the live broadcast of the campaign as Hans Boger finished his speech and prepared to shake hands with the audience when enthusiastic female fans rushed over, hugging him tightly. Suddenly, one woman tackled Hans Boger to the ground.
The royal couple couldn’t help but laugh, popcorn scattered everywhere.
“My God!” Wilhelmina laughed breathlessly, “Is this a political campaign or a concert?”
“Hans Boger is incredibly charming,” Albert said. “My mother and aunt really like him. My aunt even plans to organize a ladies’ fan club to follow him. They’ll cheer wherever he speaks.”
“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?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the head of security coughed. “If you turn to the back, you’ll see the evidence found during the search of Annabel that shows her contact with the terrorist organization.”
Wilhelmina suspiciously furrowed her brow.
“Sir, based on my understanding of Countess de Garis, Annabel would never leave any evidence for you to discover if she were truly collaborating with the enemy.”
“Your Majesty, we deliberately relaxed her surveillance before, so…”
Wilhelmina slammed the folder on the dining table and stood up.
“Darling,” Albert reached to support her shoulder but she brushed away his hand.
“Who told you this approach, Mr. Stroz?” the queen’s voice, filled with anger, made the head of security tremble. “Why was there no report beforehand, and why did you continue to be lenient with her after the art academy incident? Were you using me and the Prince as bait? This is negligence!”
“Your Majesty…” the head of security stammered, unable to defend himself.
Wilhelmina looked at him with disappointment. She understood why Hans Borg received high support rates; the imperial bureaucracy desperately needed reform. As a queen, the safety of her family was clearly mishandled.
Albert gently stroked his wife’s back to calm her. Wilhelmina took a deep breath to stabilize her emotions.
“Mommy…” Amilia said timidly.
“Shut up, Amy.” Queen Barbara shouted at Wilhelmina, “I knew it, you’re just like them. Talking about treating the former royal family well is a hypocritical excuse. You won’t stop until you’ve driven us to desperation!”
Wilhelmina pressed her lips together, looking at her silently.
“Why? We’ve never been bad to you. Perhaps we’ve spoken ill of you, or embarrassed you. But so what? Annabel has been placed under lifelong house arrest, and we can never return to social circles…”
“I’ll ask you one question.” Wilhelmina’s voice was authoritative, drowning out Queen Barbara’s shouting, “Did you participate in this?”
Queen Barbara’s momentum was exhausted. She sat back uneasily on the sofa, glanced at her husband, and said truthfully, “No. You may not believe me, but we haven’t contacted her for a long time.”
“So, you don’t know what she’s doing?”
“No,” Prince Heinrich said, “She never tells us anything.”
“Not even Aunt Barbara?” Wilhelmina’s gaze was sharp, “You don’t know she’s colluding with a notorious terrorist organization to assassinate me?”
Queen Barbara’s face turned pale, anxiously defending, “This is slander! She wouldn’t! You’re framing her…”
“Just like you killed my mother, my father, and his wife!”
Her words fell like hammers, plunging the room into silence.
The twin sisters looked at each other, while Prince Heinrich and his wife appeared pale.
Wilhelmina continued her silent interrogation, her eyes emotionless.
After almost fifty years, Prince Heinrich finally spoke: “This is a disgrace…”
