Chapter 52
Hearing Mois's call, Hera emerged from the shadows on the west side, the hem of her robes sweeping across the ground and stirring up fine dust.
“Wang Fumeier”.
Hera’s voice was soft, yet it pierced the chaos in the hall like an icicle: “When you proposed to Fran, you knelt before the temple and swore that you were afraid Moise would lose her mother, be ridiculed, lack maternal love, and become an unhealthy child.”
She took two steps forward, her gaze falling on Mel, who was slumped on the ground. Her tone was flat, yet every word was piercing: "Now that you hold the throne of Stuart, you keep saying you will fulfill your duties as a royal consort, but you even want to scheme against your own daughter to get her into your power game."
Mel recognized Hera.
Decades have passed, and the Goddess of Marriage, who always has a cold face in the picture book and is surrounded by divine radiance, is still the same as when he first met her.
The deity before him was someone a mortal like him could never reach; a distant existence that even time could not erase.
"You shameless leech! You'd even dare to covet your own daughter! Are you even human?!"
Li Jia rushed out from behind Hera and spat several mouthfuls of saliva on Mel. Faced with the sudden appearance of the little yellow chick, Mel didn't have time to react and could only let her spit on her.
This is none other than her father!
He shares the same blood as Moise and is the second person in the world, besides her mother, who is closest to her.
Therefore, Li Jia hates it when people say, "A daughter is her father's sweetheart from a past life."
A daughter is a daughter, a lover is a lover, and a mistress is a mistress, but a daughter cannot be a mistress.
It is precisely because of such words that pedophiles have an opportunity to take advantage of the situation.
Why not say that the son is the father's ultimate virile queen in his past life?
After being scolded by the little yellow chick, he struggled to get up, but Catherine stepped forward and pressed down on his shoulder.
The long sword was pressed against the back of his neck, and the icy touch made him tremble all over.
“Your Majesty the God of Marriage…” His voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded with sandpaper, “Please let me explain… I just… just wanted to make Stuart stronger, I did it for this country, for Mois’s future…”
Hera didn't speak, but simply raised her eyes slightly. The girl stood up and stood in front of him, then slowly walked to Fran.
Fran looked at the girl in front of him, with the same hair as Hawthorne, the same eyes, bright, sunny and confident, just like her mother.
The only keepsake the girl in my memory left me in this world.
Fran was very pleased.
Moise said, "Aunt Fran, I understand, I know everything."
From the time Moise could remember, Fran had been as gentle as a mother to her. She wouldn't allow herself to call her "Mom," and many times Moise wanted to call her "Mom," but Fran refused.
She told the young girl, "Moise, never forget your mother."
Fran taught her horseback riding and archery, how to handle government affairs, how to maintain her integrity in the complex court, and how to become a monarch loved by the people, just like her mother.
Those fleeting moments held Fran's unspoken tenderness and Moise's long-held truth.
Moise looked at Fran's reddened eyes and gently took her hand: "Auntie, you don't need to protect me anymore."
"From today onward, I will protect Stuart like a mother would protect you."
After saying that, Mois turned to face Hera, bowed slightly, and said in a sincere and firm tone: "Please remove the marriage contract from Aunt Fran."
"She has wasted half of her life for me, tied to this piece of trash. For the rest of her life, I just want her to be herself."
"Madmen! You're all madmen!"
Upon hearing the words "severance of the bond," Mel, like a wild beast whose tail had been stepped on, instantly forgot the knife at the back of his neck and roared furiously, "No way! Fran is mine, and he's mine even in death!"
He glared at Fran, his eyes filled with malicious mockery: "Where do you think you can go after she breaks the bond? A deposed queen, a wife abandoned by her husband, is not even as good as a dog in this world!"
As soon as she finished speaking, Catherine's knife moved forward another half inch, the cold blade brushing against Mel's skin, silencing him instantly, leaving only the sound of his teeth chattering.
Hera finally spoke slowly, her voice still calm, yet carrying an undeniable divinity: "The ordinance is determined by the temple, and it can also be interpreted by the temple."
"Mel, you have broken your vows and desecrated marriage, and have long since lost the right to hold the marriage certificate."
She raised her hand, her fingertips gleaming with a faint golden light, and looked at Fran: "Queen Fran, are you willing to break free from the shackles that have wasted half your life?"
Fran looked at the golden light on his fingertips, then at Moise, who was holding his hand beside him. For the first time, a light of her own ignited in those always gentle eyes.
She took a deep breath, her voice soft but incredibly clear: "I do."
The golden light at Hera's fingertips suddenly shone, transforming into a slender ribbon of light that slowly drifted toward Fran's heart.
All the people saw was the starlight swirling around her chest for a moment, then seemingly piercing through some invisible barrier, before condensing into the outline of a post card that glowed faintly in the air.
It was the bond that bound her and Mel back then. As soon as the light appeared, fine cracks began to appear on the edges, as if it had been torn apart by an invisible hand.
Until the golden inscriptions disappeared simultaneously from their chests.
"No!"
"don't want!"
Mel struggled frantically, the blade slicing through his skin at the back of his neck, blood trickling down his collar, but he was completely oblivious.
"Fran! Now that you've broken the bond, you can forget about ever having a good life again! Stuart will never tolerate you, and everyone will laugh at and despise you!"
Fran didn't look at him, but stared at the gradually crumbling marriage token, the mist that had accumulated in his eyes for half a lifetime finally dissipating.
She recalled the time she was forced to agree to the marriage, when the same frost was falling outside the palace as it was today; she recalled the countless nights she spent alone in her study dealing with state affairs, while Mel was drinking and making merry in the harem.
He failed to fulfill his responsibilities as a husband, nor as a father, and made no contribution to the country and its people.
She had no feelings for him; what she needed was the status of queen so that she could take care of her lovely Moise.
Now that the marriage contract is broken, those constraints should also be broken.
“Mel.”
Fran finally turned to look at him, her tone calm but with an unprecedented distance: "Whether I have a good life or not has never depended on you, much less on this marriage certificate."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over everyone in the hall.
"As for Stuart, whether it tolerates me or not is up to its people and Moise to decide. It is not your place to interfere, you hypocrite who schemes against your own daughter."
Hera looked at Fran, her tone now showing more approval: "The bond has been broken. From now on, you and Mel are no longer bound by marriage. From now on, you will be in charge of your own life."
Fran let out a soft sigh of relief, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
She raised her hand and touched her chest, where the subtle sense of constraint she used to feel was gone, replaced by an unprecedented feeling of ease.
Looking at the light in her eyes, Moise couldn't help but squeeze her hand, her voice filled with laughter: "Aunt Fran, from now on, let's work together to protect Stuart, and we'll have a good life."
"Madmen! They're all madmen!"
As the golden light dissipated, Mel collapsed to the ground, her eyes glazed over, muttering repeatedly, "Without the Fate Token, you are nothing... nothing at all..."
Catherine sheathed her longsword, gave him a cold look, and said to the assassin beside her, "Take King Felix away and imprison him in the Forbidden City. No one is allowed to visit him without the princess's order."
“Catherine, no need.”
The girl suddenly tightened her wrist, and the hoodpin pierced Mel's throat. She used all her strength to break the skin and muttered, "You have been on the throne for sixteen years, forcing Catherine, an orphan, to believe those old foxes in the cabinet. You ceded Stuart's land to neighboring countries and piled up the people's taxes to build your decadent lifestyle."
"You have forgotten your mother's dying wish to protect the country and the people, and you have forgotten the oath you swore before your grandfather's memorial tablet to ensure that the people live in peace and prosperity. You only remember your power, your pleasure, and your folly."
"Father, it's time to go to hell." The girl whispered close to the man's ear, "My mother will be proud of me."
It was accompanied by a dull thud as it landed.
The head that once symbolized supreme power rolled to the ground, its eyes still wide open, as if it could not believe that it would die at the hands of its daughter.
Blood splattered on Moise's cheek, the warm touch sending a shiver through her, but she did not loosen her grip on the cappin.
She raised her head and looked out of the hall.
The first rays of dawn shone through the clouds and fell on the dust-covered palace walls.
Footsteps sounded behind her. Fran stepped forward with a clean handkerchief and gently wiped the blood from her face. His voice was filled with heartache, but also with barely suppressed joy: "Well done, Moise."
"From today onwards, Stuart, it's time to live a different life."
Moise's coronation was held on a bright, sunny morning, a rare good day in the North.
The ice sculptures, which are usually covered with frost flowers, now gleamed with a warm light under the sun, mingling with the white breaths exhaled by the crowd of people packed into the square.
People stood on tiptoe, wrapped themselves tightly in wool cloaks, but their eyes were fixed on the high platform, and even their cheeks, red from the cold, were filled with an almost devout expectation.
This is their new monarch, the daughter of Queen Hawthorne, the hope of Chisco, and the future of Stuart.
Moise wore a white royal robe embroidered with gold patterns, the wide hem trailing over the steps, each step she took was steady.
Her black hair was styled into an exquisite bun, secured with only a pearl hat pin. Without excessive embellishment, it could not conceal her sharp yet gentle aura, like a snowflake blooming in the cold winter.
When she reached the center of the platform, she turned to face the people, her gaze sweeping over their hopeful faces: tears welling in the cloudy eyes of the elderly, children jumping and waving small flags, and the guards standing tall and straight...
Moise unconsciously gripped the hilt of the sword at her waist, the one her mother Hawthorne had left her.
Today, she will carry on this legacy, fulfill her duties as Empress, and take on that heavy responsibility.
Fran held a gold crown inlaid with emeralds in her hands, her rose-colored dress fluttering gently in the breeze, her maternal glow making her look even more dignified.
She looked at the girl before her, from the little girl who used to hide behind her to the empress who could stand on her own. Time had not left her with cowardice or timidity, but with a firmness that came after weathering storms.
"Mois Chesco".
Fran's voice echoed throughout every corner of the square.
"Are you willing to protect this land with your life, treat every citizen with justice, and lead Stuart to the light with wisdom and courage, never betraying your vow, whether in prosperity or suffering?"
Mois Mois slightly bent her knees, the hem of her royal robes drawing an elegant arc at that moment.
"I do!"
"Until the blood of Chisko no longer flows, I will never abandon my people. I will protect the future of Stuart like my mother did!"
Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a power that pierced people's hearts, and thunderous cheers instantly erupted in the square.
Fran stepped forward and carefully placed the crown on Mois's head. The weight of the golden crown pressed down on her head, but Mois did not waver at all.
The emerald light fell on her black hair, intertwining with the shimmering silver hatpin, gradually making the childishness in her eyes fade away, giving her a touch of the unique majesty of a monarch, as if this crown was rightfully hers.
The crown shines only for the true heir.
"From this day forward, you are the Queen of Stuart."
Fran placed her hand on Moise's shoulder and gently helped her up. The warmth of her palm seeped through the royal robe, just like the warmth she had felt many nights ago when she tucked Moise in.
Moise straightened up, raised her hand to touch the crown, and felt the heavy responsibility it carried.
She looked at the people in the square again, slowly raised her mother's sword, and pointed the tip of the sword to the sky.
The morning light fell on the sword, reflecting a dazzling light that illuminated the determination in her eyes: "I, Moise Chescot! Today I swear here that I will ensure my people live in peace and prosperity, and that I will protect this land so that it may thrive forever!"
Cheers erupted again as the people waved their flags and shouted "Long live the Empress!"
Fran stood at the edge of the platform, looking at Moise surrounded by light, his eyes reddening, but a relieved smile on his lips.
Hawthorne, look, our child has finally grown up to be able to protect everything.
Sunlight shone on Mois's crown, reflecting a dazzling light that illuminated the square and Stuart's bright new future.
From this day forward, this young queen will lead her nation to new heights, carrying her vows and legacy.
Li Jia and her entourage stood in the crowd, concealing their appearances and auras, watching Moise ascend the throne as empress.
Li Jia was actually a little teary-eyed. She had originally thought that Moise would resent her stepmother, but she didn't expect that she and Hera would tell Moise that night that Fran planned to die together with Mel for her sake.
The girl knelt barefoot on the cold floor, thanking them for telling her all this.
She presented the marriage proposal, requesting the arrival of the god of marriage in order to dissolve Fran and Mel's absurd marriage.
Over the years, she has kept a low profile, not daring to let Mel see her ambition, nor could she let Mel see the state of her relationship with Fran.
From the day she took on Catherine's burden, she was convinced that she could change everything and that she would take back everything that originally belonged to Chisco.
After the coronation ceremony, Moise returned to her palace, removed her heavy royal robes, and encountered a familiar face at the door.
Catherine approached her, holding a bunch of purple tulips, and said with a gentle smile, "Congratulations, Queen Moise."
The purple tulip symbolizes eternal loyalty.
——
Having successfully handled one marriage proposal, the Temple of Marriage managed to avoid breaking its record and maintain its reputation for a 100% success rate.
After finishing his work, Winslow was about to go home when Doreen asked him to stay, saying he would be back later.
Although Winslow didn't know what Doreen meant, he obediently did as she said. Although Li Jia didn't know what Doreen meant, she didn't say anything when she saw Winslow obediently doing as she said.
He left the Peacock Chariot to them, then used Shadow Cloak to teleport back to Hera.
Let's go.
Doreen didn't say much, got up and walked ahead of her, while Winslow, though suspicious, followed behind her.
The two of them didn't speak a word the whole way. They crossed several ice fields, and Winslow's legs were about to give out. He complained, "How much further?"
As he spoke, he bumped into Doreen's hard back. Her back was full of firm muscles from years of sword practice, and it hurt Winslow's nose.
"arrive."
Hidden beyond the ice field lies a vast wasteland.
The wind swept across the low slopes at the edge of the wasteland, carrying ice shards. Winslow wrapped the thick cloak Doreen handed him tighter, but his fingertips still felt cold.
She watched as Doreen crouched down and carefully cleaned a stone tablet half-buried in the frozen soil with a dagger. The tablet was covered with a thick layer of frost, making it impossible to read any writing.
What are we doing here?
She took two steps forward, the sound of her boots hitting the snow was exceptionally clear. She stared at the stone tablet, which was an unfamiliar bluish-black rock, yet her eyes inexplicably stung, as if fine needles were gently pricking them.
Doreen paused, raised her hand to brush away the snow on top of the monument, and said in a much softer voice than usual, "I've come to see an old friend."
Just then, a gust of wind blew snowflakes onto Winslow's face. She instinctively closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her gaze fell on a shallow mark at the base of the stone tablet.
The mark looked exactly like the little sun she used to carve on the wooden table when she was a child—crooked and crooked, yet carrying an indescribable familiarity.
Her heart tightened suddenly, and she abruptly squatted down, her fingertips gently touching the mark. The moment she felt the cold touch of the stone tablet, fragmented images flashed through her mind.
Someone held her by the stove, a piece of malt candy in their hand, and said with a smile, "Lolo, be as happy as the little sun."
"What’s wrong with you?"
Doreen's voice trembled almost imperceptibly.
Winslow snapped back to reality, but his tears had already fallen onto the frozen ground, instantly freezing into tiny ice crystals.
She didn't know why she was crying, she just felt empty inside, as if she had lost something extremely important. She looked at the stone tablet, and although she had no memory of it, she couldn't help but want to reach out and hug it.
"I……"
She opened her mouth, her voice hoarse: "I don't know."
Her heart was still aching faintly, not a physical pain, but a throbbing ache that seeped from the very marrow of her bones.
"It just feels... so familiar, like I should have been here before, like I should remember something."
Doreen stood up, walked to her side, gently wiped away the tears on her cheeks, and smiled, "No, you weren't here."
"This is an old friend of mine."
"Come with me to see them."
Doreen led Winslow to kneel before the stone tablet for a long time, until it got dark. Doreen then helped Winslow up and said, "Let's go home."
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