The Shadow of Great Britain

At this moment, footsteps echoed outside the conference room.

The attendant entered and, after saluting, addressed Viscount Melbourne: ”Prime Minister, Her Majesty the Queen wishes to speak with you alone first, please proceed to the study.”

Melbourne nodded, asking no questions and showing no hesitation.

He got up and put on his coat, turned, and bowed slightly to Wellington: ”Your Excellency, I shall go ahead.”

”Good luck.” The Duke of Wellington raised his hand to bid farewell, and as the top Royalist in British politics, he was not dissatisfied with such arrangements.

Viscount Melbourne left the conference room following the attendant, leaving the Duke of Wellington alone in the room.

Taking advantage of others not yet arriving at Kensington Palace, the Old Duke originally intended to rest for a while.

However, just as he closed his eyes, a familiar, humble voice reached his ears: ”Your Excellency, Duke.”

Arthur had arrived at some unknown time.

The Duke of Wellington opened his eyes, his voice not loud: ”I thought Her Majesty the Queen would keep you by her side, after all, today’s occasion is not easy to handle for a newly adult girl.”

Apparently, the Duke of Wellington already knew about Arthur’s agenda for the day.

But there’s nothing surprising about that, because a few days ago, Arthur had privately disclosed the plan to him and received the approval of this leader of Britain’s military.

Arthur smiled slightly and walked to the fireplace, removing his gloves: ”She has more courage and strength than you imagine.”

”Really?” Wellington looked at him with a wry smile, as though inspecting a new recruit: ”But no matter what, she’s only eighteen. When I was eighteen, I had just graduated from Pinerolo Military Academy. My mother commented then: I don’t know how to arrange for my little Arthur; he seems to have no skills other than playing the violin.”

Arthur chuckled: ”But you later defeated Napoleon, didn’t you?”

The Duke of Wellington pursed his lips and shook his head: ”Just luck.”

Arthur laughed heartily upon hearing this: ”Only coming from your mouth would such words be convincing.”

Outside, several brisk footsteps were heard, followed by a slight noise of boots on oak flooring.

”You always arrive before the scheduled time.” The Duke of Wellington turned his head in greeting: ”Good morning, Robert.”

Peel, draped in a black cloak and holding a top hat, hesitated upon entering, clearly not expecting to see these two ”old friends” engaged in warm conversation in the conference room.

”But ultimately, I’m a step behind you, Your Excellency, Duke.” Peel’s gaze shifted from Wellington: ”And you, Arthur.”

”No rush, it hasn’t started yet.” Wellington raised his cane slightly: ”Viscount Melbourne just went to the study.”

Peel placed down his hat and handed the cloak to a nearby servant: ”The nation’s misfortune! Especially at such a time, we lost a man with shoulders, with responsibility—a seasoned, strong king. Now, we must entrust the nation’s fate to a barely adult girl.”

After speaking, Peel shook his head pessimistically: ”How many years has it been since Britain had a queen? I can hardly remember who the last queen was.”

”The last queen was Anne of the Stuart Dynasty.” Arthur paused: ”A hundred and twenty-three years ago, or, more precisely, a hundred and twenty-two years and ten months.”

Peel glanced at him irritably: ”Thank you, Arthur, your history is well-studied.”

”Thank you for your compliment.” Arthur responded unchanged: ”As you know, University of London, history major, three-year academic award.”

(Another Chapter, later)