Albert von Sellerberg handed the fully automatic assault rifle back to his subordinate, then turned and saluted the blonde little girl cradled in Hans Borg’s arms.
“My apologies for the fright, Your Highness. Fortunately, you were not harmed.”
Hans Borg noticed the badge on the youth’s shoulder and was momentarily stunned before setting Wilhelmina down.
“Thank you…” The little girl displayed composure after a brief moment of panic.
“Sellerberg.”
“Mr. Sellerberg,” the girl said formally, “Are you from the Royal Guard?”
“No, Your Highness,” Albert knelt slightly, looking up at the young duchess, “This is just my private guard.”
The girl looked at him with surprise. “Is that so? Then, thank you. You saved us.”
“As a member of the Sellerberg family, this is what I should do.”
Albert gently grasped the little duchess’s hand and lightly kissed it.
Wilhelmina could no longer contain her curiosity. “Are you a soldier?”
“No, Your Highness. I study at the Tir Imperial Military Academy.”
“No wonder you have a gun.”
Albert offered a smile as warm as spring, “Once you understand the Sellerberg family better, you’ll find this is only natural.”
Hans Borg, observing the dispersed protesters, bent down and said, “Your Highness, let’s return to the palace quickly.”
“Please take my car,” Albert replied. “I will escort Your Highness and Sir back to the palace.”
Hans Borg nodded, taking Wilhelmina into a silver-gray car adorned with the Sellerberg family emblem—a wheat sheaf surrounding a sharp spear. This military family had always guarded the empire with their capabilities and loyalty, renowned as Imperial Grand Marshals and guardians of imperial lands.
Strangely, Young Master Albert, as the marshal’s son, appeared more like a literature student—refined, elegant, and scholarly, always wearing a warm smile, lacking the boldness of his ancestors.
However, Wilhelmina did not dwell on him for long. Upon returning to the Rose Palace, she was summoned by the Emperor to the Palace of No Worries. Brück informed those waiting for an audience that the Emperor was furious, a sentiment evident from his angry roars penetrating the thick doors.
The Crown Prince and his wife were inside, while Annabelle sat grimly in the waiting room with her two sisters.
Amelia’s eyes were red from crying, while Georgiana directed her anger toward the newly arrived Wilhelmina.
“I heard you were attacked by a mob. The communication sounded dramatic, but I see you weren’t harmed.”
Wilhelmina, feeling unhappy, replied quietly, “Someone came to rescue me.”
“How touching!” Georgiana snorted. “Who? The Royal Guard had already arrived.”
“Sellerberg,” Wilhelmina said. “A young master.”
Georgiana’s eyes turned fierce. “Albert?”
Annabelle looked surprised as well. Wilhelmina wisely chose to remain silent.
Georgiana warned, “Don’t set your sights on him! He belongs to Annabelle! They’re going to get married!”
Wilhelmina retorted, “This has nothing to do with me.”
“I’m teaching you to know your place,” Georgiana said. “Don’t dream about things that aren’t yours.”
“Enough, Georgiana!” Annabelle said. “Can’t you read the room?”
“What difference does it make?” Georgiana replied dismissively. “This is beyond what we can manage. Dad is so stupid!”
Amelia suddenly burst into tears. “Are they going to get divorced?”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “No crying! They are the Crown Prince and Princess. ‘Divorce’ doesn’t exist in their world. Georgiana, don’t talk about boys right now.”
Before you embarrass us, shut up!”
The sisters looked at each other and surrendered to their older sister’s dominance, falling silent.
With the final roar, the Crown Prince and his wife walked out with pale faces. Shame turned the Crown Prince’s face purple; perhaps the Emperor had even slapped him. The children walked to their mother’s side. The Crown Princess hugged her daughters, not looking at her husband, and left proudly.
“His Majesty summons you,” Brück said to Wilhelmina.
Wilhelmina followed him inside, catching a glimpse of her great-uncle’s dejected figure.
“My child,” Emperor Alexander’s anger softened upon seeing his granddaughter, “Come let me look at you. Those people didn’t harm you, did they?”
“I’m fine, Grandfather,” Wilhelmina said obediently.
“I heard the Sellerberg young master saved you,” the Emperor said with satisfaction. “Did you thank him?”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“Good girl. I hope you can become friends,” the Emperor stroked her smooth blonde hair, “The Sellerberg family is important to the empire.”
The Emperor and Wilhelmina had dinner together. He sat with her at a small table, pouring her juice and cutting her steak. Wilhelmina was surprised and delighted, cautiously accepting her grandfather’s sudden tenderness.
“My darling, your mother’s memorial day is coming soon, isn’t it?” the Emperor asked casually.
Wilhelmina lowered her head. Every September 17th was the memorial day of her mother, Rebecca Lehmann. Though divorced, the royal family still referred to her as Princess Rebecca. Each year, supporters commemorated this unconventional princess.
Wilhelmina would not be able to visit her mother’s grave in Monslanka this year.
“If you’d like, we can hold a small memorial service at the Hall of Heroes,” the Emperor said, seemingly forgetting his once-strained relationship with Rebecca. “Just a few family and friends. I’ll invite some of your mother’s friends to meet you. Honey, you’re about to start school; you should get to know more people.”
“Yes, Grandfather. Thank you,” Wilhelmina said gratefully.
Emperor Alexander nodded, his gaze deepening. “Do you know what friends your mother had?”
The child tilted her head in confusion. “She had her best friend, Aunt Tracey. She always sends me cards and gifts on my birthday and New Year. She’s so nice!”
“Tracey Eisenlis. Professor of Ancient Earth Language at the Central Language Institute,” the Emperor nodded. “Yes, she was your mother’s college classmate. Who else?”
Wilhelmina shook her head, “Sorry, Grandfather, I can’t remember.”
The passage discusses Wilhelmina’s views on the political situation regarding the Crown Prince. The people expressed dissatisfaction with the meeting’s outcome, believing the Crown Prince’s punishment was too lenient, protected by the “Royal Immunity” clause in the constitution.
“That is indeed very unfair,” Wilhelmina said seriously.
Hans Borg smiled, “It’s good that you think so.”
Wilhelmina stated, “Grandpa told me the Royal Immunity is a backward and dictatorial clause that should not exist in the constitution at all.”
“Mr. Lehmann is a wise elder,” Hans Borg replied.
Wilhelmina added milk to her cup and mentioned, “Kerns said some elders suggested deposing the Crown Prince to quell the unrest. Do you think Grandpa would agree?”
“We can’t guess His Majesty’s thoughts,” Hans Borg answered skillfully. “I believe he has his own ideas.”
Lucy meowed and jumped onto Wilhelmina’s knee, and she stroked the cat’s fur.
“My lady,” Hans Borg said gently, “Given your mother Rebecca’s political background, if there are changes to the Crown Prince’s position, your status could become awkward. The Democrats seem to have high hopes for you to continue your mother’s cause.”
“But my mother died young in a plane crash,” the little girl said sharply, her cold and sharp eyes revealing a maturity beyond her years.
Hans Borg felt his heart tighten momentarily. When he looked again, the girl had returned to her tender expression.
“I understand, Your Highness,” he said carefully. “I hope you will agree with my suggestion: to decline visits from officials or politicians, and accept all arrangements from His Majesty.”
Wilhelmina looked up, her azure eyes as clear as the sea, seeming to tell a story. “I have always been Grandpa’s good granddaughter.”
