Seeing that the two were still in conversation, Jenkins stood aside to wait. His presence did nothing to deter them; they continued their discussion openly.
Mr. Luther and Her Majesty the Queen were discussing his maternal grandmother, the late princess. It was evident that neither of them was particularly enthusiastic about the topic, but as relatives eting for the first ti, it was a necessary conversation.
"This is Baron Jenkins Williams. I believe you've heard of him. He played a key role in exposing the Fabry Fraud."
Once the awkward conversation reached a lull, the old steward, Duke Douglas Gerrod, stepped forward to introduce Jenkins to Mr. Luther. Luther, likely still unaware of the matter concerning the Williams family, shook Jenkins's hand with a touch of arrogance, though there was no real hostility in his greeting.
He had heard Jenkins's na before, but only in the context of a famous foreigner. He had no inkling as to why Jenkins would be present on this particular occasion.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Queen Isabella gestured for Jenkins to sit beside her. At her age, she couldn't be expected to stand for long, so a sofa and a coffee table had been arranged on the terrace.
"Have you had anything to eat? I know the food at these banquets is rarely enough to fill one's stomach."
She took Jenkins's hand as she inquired. Jenkins gave a bashful nod, ntioning that he had eaten enough for both himself and his cat.
Mr. Luther watched them, a perplexed expression on his face. The conversation felt far too intimate, like a grandmother doting on her own grandchild.
"I heard you invited three young ladies as your companions. Oh, how daring. I never heard of such a thing when I was young. The youth of today are truly remarkable."
She wasn't criticizing Jenkins; her tone was teasing. "I would have thought young Briny Mikhail would be as uncompromising as her father."
Mr. Luther's brow furrowed. He sensed sothing was wrong—this was not a conversation that should be taking place between a queen and a foreign baron.
"I noticed last ti you have a lovely little cat. I had one myself when I was young. In fact, most of the cats here at Coldspring Palace are its descendants. I think you'll find it interesting. None of them, however, are quite as beautiful as yours. You should co and see them more often when you have the ti."
The old queen smiled at Chocolate, perched on Jenkins's shoulder. The cat held its head high and let out a prim "ow~," clearly enjoying the complint.
Luther kept glancing at the old duke, desperate for an explanation, but the duke remained silent, simply watching the two on the sofa with a nostalgic expression.
"About the banquet tonight, my father and the others..."
Jenkins seized the opportunity to ask. He knew what the old queen was planning, and as he spoke, he couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for Mr. Luther.
"Yes, I've invited Robert and your brothers as well. They should be arriving shortly. Honestly, Jenkins, your father's face... it's the spitting image of Bisola II and the previous king. And of the three of you brothers, you resemble your father the most."
She spoke with a fond expression, her sowhat clouded eyes glinting as if lost in a distant mory.
At her words, Mr. Luther shot to his feet. He stared at Jenkins, stunned, his mind racing to recall the faces of the two kings the queen had ntioned. With things laid so bare, he finally understood.
"Maintain your decorum, Mr. Luther. Of course, if you wish to use the lavatory, a servant will show you the way."
the old duke advised.
"You..."
The pale-faced foreigner raised a trembling hand and pointed at Jenkins. They were standing close, and Jenkins imdiately batted his hand aside.
"I've never liked being pointed at,"
he said sternly, adding,
"And genealogically speaking, you should address as 'uncle.' You ought to show basic respect to strangers and elders alike. I don't know what customs and etiquette you follow in Cheslan, but that is the rule here."
He'd heard about the generational difference from Dolores and had dismissed it as a joke, never imagining he'd have an opportunity to use it.
A smile tugged at the old duke's lips. The nearby servants also struggled to suppress their laughter, though none dared make a sound.
"Uncle?"
Luther's voice cracked, rising to a shrill pitch. Jenkins attributed it to sheer astonishnt.
"Yes. I recently discovered that Bisola II, who passed away fifty years ago, had an illegitimate son. And that son, in turn, had descendants."
Queen Isabella explained, her raspy voice laying out the relentless truth.
"Yes, that was my great-grandfather."
Jenkins nodded, confirming the fact himself.
"Mr. Williams has two brothers, and their father is still living. Though it breaks with tradition, Her Majesty has decided to add all four of their nas to the royal family's genealogical records. A formal announcent will be made shortly."
Duke Douglas Gerrod stated, pausing for a mont to allow Mr. Luther to absorb the barrage of information before delivering the final conclusion.
"It seems the heavens still smile upon this country, and upon the Middleton family. The royal line is not without direct male heirs—now, there are suddenly four. So... Mr. Luther, if succession were determined purely by blood, you would rank fifth at best. If we were to consider ability or other factors... I'm afraid being a foreigner puts you at a distinct disadvantage."
He stopped just short of explicitly stating, "Fidektri would never allow a foreigner like you to beco king." Luther, of course, understood him perfectly. Gasping for air, he stared first at Jenkins, then at Queen Isabella, before shaking his head violently as if waking from a nightmare. Without another word, he stumbled towards the entrance to the terrace.
"Were we... a bit cruel to him?"
Jenkins was aware of the hypocrisy in his own question. But as they were both potential contenders for the throne, it wasn't as if they were without conflict.
"Not in the least. Before your arrival, Mr. Luther's attitude was frankly infuriating. I believe he needed to be taught such a lesson. Besides..."
the duke snorted, "...he's just a southerner."
The people of the Fidektri Kingdom harbored an innate prejudice against those from the southern lands... just as they looked down on northerners. Such sentints were hardly uncommon.
After Mr. Luther's departure, Jenkins did not linger. He had co straight to the terrace upon his arrival, just as they had arranged the day before, to set the stage for his formal introduction.
He had, after all, approached the queen quite openly, and many had witnessed it. That, combined with Horas Luther's flustered retreat, would surely give the guests much to speculate about.
Before he departed, Her Majesty once again brought up the matter of his companions. She seed less concerned with Hathaway and Briny, however, and more interested in his connection to Miss Windsor, a pleased smile playing on her lips as she inquired.
And with that, Jenkins understood exactly where the pressure that compelled Miss Windsor to seek an invitation from him had originated.
There was still so ti before the investiture ceremony. Returning to the gardens, Jenkins decided to find the young ladies and pass the ti with a stroll and conversation. Coldspring Palace was now teeming with guests, making it difficult to spot anyone in the crowd, so he activated his Eye of Reality to search for Hathaway's aura.
The queen had been right—Coldspring Palace was ho to quite a few cats. After pinpointing the ladies' location, Jenkins strode across the garden and spotted at least three felines, so perched on ornantal fences, others crouched in corners.
All of them were staring at Jenkins, which seed to displease Chocolate. Sensing his cat's mood, Jenkins teased,
"You're not going to chase after those cats, are you?"
Chasing and playing were perfectly normal behaviors for cats, but Jenkins was convinced his own dignified feline wouldn't stoop to such "uncouth" antics.
"ow~"
The cat on his shoulder let out a haughty ow, making Jenkins chuckle. He was so amused that he failed to notice the other cats scattering as if fleeing for their lives.
When he found the three young won, they were conversing with a group of other ladies in equally beautiful gowns. They were in the gardens of Coldspring Palace. Unlike the winding, mysterious paths of an Eastern garden, this one was a masterpiece of Western design. A gardener with a penchant for precision had used hedges, statues, and beds of rare flowers from across the globe to create a perfectly symtrical patchwork of small, distinct areas.
The young won were gathered by a fountain in the center of the garden, laughing and chatting. Jenkins had expected soone like Miss Windsor to be a bit of a loner, perhaps standoffish, but to his surprise, she blended into the conversation seamlessly. Standing among the others, she seed just like any other young noblewoman.
He deliberately slowed his pace, not wanting to intrude too abruptly on the group of ladies. They soon noticed the handso young man walking across the lawn, and Briny was the first to wave him over.
"Jenkins~"
she called. Most of the girls with her recognized the na. While they were certainly not privy to the royal family's secrets, his fa as an author was more than enough to make him a subject of their gossip.
It would have been improper for a man to linger in a gaggle of young ladies, so his companions had already arranged a plan for the evening. After Jenkins approached, Briny introduced him to her friends, then announced she wanted to take a walk through the garden, leading him away from the fountain. Hathaway and Miss Windsor stayed behind, continuing to laugh and chat with the others.
It was her turn now, and Hathaway's would be next. This way, each of them would have so ti alone with him.
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