Silver Ring City, Royal Gallery.
"Your Majesty, this is your favorite painting. Are you sure?"
On a one-meter square canvas, a calm sea, a golden sunrise, and fishing boats setting sail are depicted. This painting seems to possess a magical power, allowing viewers to gain a moment of peace and tranquility.
Queen Mary's hands trembled slightly as she held the painting, her eyes filled with reluctance and sorrow. After a long while, she put down the frame and said to her maid, "Cathy, have these paintings wrapped up carefully. It's time to find them a new owner..."
The maid glanced at the empty walls and cautiously said to the Queen, "Your Majesty, perhaps we could keep a few? We don't have to sell them all, do we?"
“No…you don’t understand. At a time like this, not a single painting can be left behind.” The Queen waved her hand and said in a low voice, “Alright, go out. I want to be alone.”
Cathy glanced at the Queen, then obeyed and left the corridor, closing the door behind her.
Queen Mary slumped down in dejection on an armchair at the end of the corridor, watching the sunlight shine on the empty wall outside the window. She bent her straight back, put her arms under her head, buried her face in her arms, and moved her body up and down slightly, trying her best to suppress the sound.
Outside the door, Cathy rested one hand on the doorknob, her forehead against the door panel, her face full of sorrow and reluctance.
The maid left the corridor, glancing back every few steps.
Outside the main entrance to the Palace Collection Hall, several guards and knights stood quietly at their posts.
Cathy's appearance drew the attention of everyone at the door.
The lead knight stepped forward, nodded slightly to the maid, and asked, "Is Her Majesty the Queen still inside?"
The man before her was only twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with a handsome appearance and bright eyes. Cathy blushed, bowed slightly, and said, "Knight Herman, Her Majesty the Queen is still in the gallery, saying she wishes to be alone for a while."
The man nodded, and just as he was about to speak, the guards behind him, marching in unison, caught his attention.
An old man wearing chainmail and carrying a long sword walked towards him, his brows furrowed and his face unfriendly.
Hermann paused, then stood up straight and puffed out his chest: "Baron Cumberland..."
Before he could say anything more, the old man suddenly kicked the knight in the buttocks, nearly knocking him to the ground.
Hermann, his face flushed with shame and indignation, glared at the old man and protested loudly, "Your Excellency, what you've done is an insult..."
Cumberland gave him no chance to speak, and with a bend of his knee, his second kick landed squarely on the knight's buttocks.
The knights and guards around him chuckled quietly at their commander's bewildered expression.
Hermann covered his buttocks with both hands, went behind the pillar, and shouted, "Oh God! Father, stop!"
Cumberland stopped, smoothed the silver hair that fell across his forehead, and sneered, "I didn't expect you to still acknowledge me as your father. Tell me! Why didn't you attend the ball hosted by the Viscount of Cologne?!"
Herman raised his head: "A ball? I don't have time for such boring parties. As the captain of the Royal Guard, I have my duties."
"You bastard! I told you to come! Do you know how much face I just lost?!"
Seeing his father lift his leg again, Herman quickly took two steps back and said, "I know, you want me to meet the Viscount's youngest daughter, right? I've said it before, I have no interest in marriage!"
The old man trembled with rage, pointing his finger at his son: "If it weren't for your deceased mother, I would have tied you to a tree today and whipped your blockhead with a horsewhip!"
Baron Cumberland glanced at the knights and guards standing to the side, took a few steps closer to Herman, tapped his forehead in exasperation, and whispered, "Listen, you brat! I'm planning to transfer you to the east!"
Herman's eyes widened: "You have no right to do that!"
"No, I can do that. And you don't understand, I'm doing this for your own good."
The knight clenched his fists tightly, gritting his teeth as he said, word by word, "If you insist on this, I don't mind being a deserter!"
"You bastard!"
The enraged old man raised his fist above his head, only to see a pair of resolute eyes that would not yield an inch.
The father and son remained locked in a stalemate for a long time before the father finally lowered his fist.
Cumberland glanced at Hermann, then at the direction of the Royal Gallery, sighed dejectedly, and left the spot under everyone's watchful eyes.
Meanwhile, in another corner of Silver Ring City, another conversation was taking place between a father and son.
Viscount Kennard popped a grape into his mouth, crossed his legs, and said to his father, Earl Nar, "The King has withdrawn his tax reform plan targeting the nobility. We've won."
The short, stout count read the documents on the table, frowning as he looked at his eldest son's smug expression. "To avoid escalating the conflict, withdrawing the tax reform plan at this time is the King's only option. Otherwise, he will offend a large number of people and will have to face the anger of both the public and the nobility. By the way, those rumors targeting the Queen can be stopped."
Viscount Kennard sat up straight reluctantly: "Huh? Why? Every time I see that woman, she always acts so high and mighty, which is annoying. I want to see her panicked more often."
The count put the documents aside, tapped the table with his knuckles, and said in a deep voice, "Stop fooling around! At times like this, we should know when to stop. The purpose of spreading rumors is to warn the king. Continuing to make trouble will only backfire!"
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