Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 1313: Chapter 40: You Shall Be Crowned King

In the quiet corridor, the sound of breathing grew heavier, as if you could see the mist exhaled from those shallow lips.

Instinctively, there was some resistance to the sound that emerged beside the ear… In a haze, Lancelot began to become unclear about the appearance of the other person—although this face should have been deeply engraved in his mind.

What is she saying, Aquitaine’s… Eleanor?

A very familiar feeling quietly crossed his heart, about to drown reason in the overwhelming sensation that was flooding his senses.

“The master said, since this is your life during the holiday, no matter what you encounter, we will not provide assistance… Therefore, what remains in your body, you must force it out by yourself… Or do you intend to simply succumb?”

He could no longer hear anything, only the endless, tide-like influx… Lancelot’s whole body was hunched up, his knees fell to the ground, and his head touched the floor.

The body continuously trembled.

Then it was… a dull hum that arose.

When she raised her head again, she found that her gaze was somewhat clearer, while her lips were stained with fresh blood—and the arm that had been bitten through.

At the moment before completely losing reason, she chose to bite her arm as a way to use pain to stimulate her consciousness.

The method was not advisable, but evidently, the effect was immediate.

“Here… Queen… signal…”

In an extremely lucid state, Lancelot managed to utter several words—perhaps it was merely a subconscious action. With her tolerance having surpassed its limit, and after saying these words, she collapsed directly on the ground.

The Maid squatted down, reached out to tidy up Lancelot’s scattered hair, and asked softly, “What makes you unwilling to wake up. Even if… they say the holiday hasn’t yet ended.”

“Queen… support…”

She could still vaguely hear, from the lips of the unconscious her, such sounds being emitted.

…

…

Morning of June 2nd, 1940.

At the northeastern port city of France… On this coastal line also known as the “Church on the dune.”

As far as the eye could see, were demoralized troops advancing slowly, like ants.

They had consumed too much physical strength and will over the past few days—and behind them, at this moment, imperial tanks and chariots were like fierce tigers.

“We can’t hold on for much longer… Is there hope?”

“This retreat… I really wish to return home.”

“If, if I cannot return, please send my belongings back to my hometown… my brother.”

The fallen ones… One after another, fallen people were seen everywhere along the road.

Like silhouettes crawling out of mud, hunched like old men at sunset… Their gazes filled with confusion and fear.

They should have wanted to rally their spirits, yet whether in spirit or body, seemed to have reached an ultimate limit.

Finally, another soldier fell along the path.

In the crowd, she quickly ran to the side of this soldier, and urgently called out: “Soldier, soldier! Wake up! Clea…”

Her words did not last long—the other soldiers seemed to already know the outcome, so they continued forward silently.

“Let’s go, take his tag… Forgive me, I truly don’t have the strength to carry his corpse, Nurse.”

An old soldier paused beside her, patted her shoulder… No one knew the true identity of this mud-stained military nurse.

Who would have known that such a terribly worn-out-looking young nurse would be the country’s princess?

In the end, the old soldier still pulled the military tag off the corpse, shook his head, and went to join the team upfront—the only one left holding this still warm, almost still beating body in place… Soldiers around bowed their heads silently, passing by.

Because time was truly pressing.

“Who are you shedding tears for, yourself, or them, Elizabeth.”

When she raised her head, she saw a pair of azure-blue eyes… not in the same dire state as them, even when dressed in military uniform, she remained ever so clean.

Elizabeth did not know how she managed it… This family mentor was always so mysterious, elusive, even while walking with the military, it seemed as if no one else besides herself knew of her existence.

Like a ghost.

“He… should have been rescued, and shouldn’t have been discarded like this halfway… As should they. But why endure such war?”

“Why not experience war.”

The girl looked up incredulously, her voice trembling: “Teacher… do you really think war is justified?”

She said: “Do you think it’s wrong? Yet it too propels the development of civilization. It is precisely because of the desire for conquest that humanity forces itself to grow stronger. Without these desires, humans on this land might still be just children living in the Garden of Eden, without the dazzling civilizations of today… Bloodshed, is the soil for planting the flowers of civilization, as I should have taught you.”

The young girl sorrowfully glanced back at the road of retreat behind, the fallen bodies, all the grim news that came with retreat for the past few days… The princess who had just shed her innocence, her eyes holding back tears, feeling helpless like a bird losing its wings, falling off a cliff.

“Are you hating your weakness, Elizabeth.”

Tightly holding the gradually cold corpse, the young Princess bit her lips hard, the answer her gaze conveyed was self-evident.

“But I… I alone, can’t change anything. No matter how hard I try… it’s truly impossible.”

But she quickly discerned reality, no longer was she the girl who in a warm castle, clamored to learn strategy and fencing, to fight in the war.

After an entire year of tempering, she had tasted all sorts of the cruelty of war—she was acutely aware, in the face of collectives and war, how small human power is.

“Even just a person, can change it all.”

As those azure eyes looked towards the young princess, she even had a feeling of being lost at sea…

She could never forget the sound, appearance, and gaze of the other party at this moment.

“Even… just one person?”

“When you become the King.”

“Become… King?”

She reached out her hand to her, and she instinctively placed her hand into hers, only to hear her softly say, “You will be crowned as King.”

…

June 2nd, 1953… Britannia, in Westminster Abbey.

The palace maids and guards, along with the police officers of the Fog Capital, had no choice but to seek the whereabouts of that great figure in this royal family’s exclusive chapel.

Less than half an hour remained before the most important ceremony commenced… Yet, that person was nowhere to be found.

Their anxiety was already written on their faces.

She observed everything from above… standing on the tower, overlooking.

No longer a girl, nor a maiden, having experienced over ten years unimaginable to most, she was finally about to be crowned within this church.

“Didn’t come… teacher.”

The future queen, at this moment, held in her hands a book with slightly tattered corners: a French edition of “Confessions.”

She glanced one last time at the entrance of the church, then slowly walked down… At some point, that mysterious mentor had vanished from her life… her existence.

Yet in those years of guidance, left her with too many memories.

— “You will be crowned as queen.”

And on that day, these words accompanied her throughout her life.

Thirteen years later, Princess Elizabeth stood in front of the hall door for the coronation ceremony… Inside, the people slowly opened the door for the future queen dressed in finery.

She looked inside, and the light shone from within, she could only see a blank space.

…

Squeak—and creak.

The sound of the door opening suddenly startled Her Majesty the Queen.

She was feigning sleep, sitting in the corner of the sofa… and on her lap rested another tattered book.

The moment she woke up, she saw the maid who had opened the door, and Her Majesty was first startled, then smiled slightly… not getting up.

She just quietly sat up straight — an impeccable posture.

“I just had a dream.” Her Majesty whispered, “A rather long dream.”

“Still so fond of daydreaming, Elizabeth.” The maid, with an equally impeccable smile and impeccable steps, slowly walked into the room.

Indeed… if at this moment she hadn’t been holding onto Lancelot’s back collar, dragging her in like this, it would truly be impeccable.

“What happened to this child?” Her Majesty looked and curiously asked.

“Probably her self-esteem wouldn’t allow herself to do anything shameful, so she chose to faint.” You Ye said calmly.

“She is a strong child.” Her Majesty showed a loving gaze.

The maid then casually tossed Lancelot onto the ground — which made Her Majesty slightly open her mouth, finally smiling wryly, “Still haven’t changed a bit, teacher.”

You Ye looked around and said, “It seems, as someone being held captive, your situation isn’t too bad.”

It’s not like the stone chamber of the monastery at the beginning… within this Great British parliamentary building, you probably won’t find such poor conditions, right?

Stricter speaking, it’s a study-like place — a place used specifically for the queen to rest during her visits to parliament.

“Probably because they sympathize with an old lady like me, who poses no threat,” the queen laughed slightly, finally standing up slowly, “Would you like some tea? I’ve made some black tea.”

“Do you still keep this book?” The maid looked at the queen… the movement of the queen carefully putting the book down.

Her Majesty looked down at “Confessions” and smiled, “Occasionally, I still open it up for a look; after all, it brought me quite a few painful memories.”

The queen soon looked up, no longer talking about the book, but curiously asked, “What happened to the male companion that was with you?”

“He is currently experiencing something that brings him joy,” the maid said tenderly.

Her Majesty opened and closed her mouth, watching, somewhat dazed.

After a while, Her Majesty’s gaze also softened, “So, teacher, you have such a gentle side indeed… what a lucky man. I suddenly felt a bit jealous.”

“Therefore, I don’t intend to waste too much time on you.” The maid said indifferently, “Now, tell me… why did you use The Burning Black Card to summon me.”

The queen slowly walked to the tea table, brewing tea, speaking as if unintentionally, “Before at the theater, there wasn’t much time to talk, I suppose… your companion is a forgiving person, he would be willing to spare me this bit of time… would you like some sugar?”

The maid squinted her eyes, “Little Elizabeth seems to have grown into a bad woman.”

“Then I’ll put in just one piece; I remember you always only added one.”

Her Majesty smiled, offering the black tea, then suddenly asked nonchalantly, “Speaking of which, the reason teacher came to teach me — was it because my father had made some deal with you?”

“Generally, we keep records of guest transactions confidential,” the maid slowly sat down, picked up the teacup, sipping a small mouthful, “Hmm, tea brewing skills have improved.”

“After all, sixty years have passed… teacher,” Her Majesty murmured.

“Only the time for this cup of tea,” the maid replied unexpectedly.

Her Majesty chuckled wryly, “Still as ruthless as ever… indeed, I wanted the teacher to do something. Look at my current situation…”

And at this moment, outside the room, came the faint sound of footsteps, and then… a knock on the door.

…

…

The armored car slowly stopped in front of Westminster Palace’s gate — a man in military attire, about thirty years old, directly stepped out from the driver’s seat, and then opened the rear door.

Only to see Sir Pukins slowly step out — from the other side of the door, Caesar also alighted.

“Thank you, Ofen, my child,” the old knight smilingly said.

This was none other than the officer following the Prime Minister, the commander of the The Fianna base… also the old knight’s adopted son in private.

The old knight looked up at the parliament before him, suddenly saying, “Actually, I’m not too fond of this place.”

As he said this, he slowly ascended the stairs leading up, while Ofen carried two wooden boxes, following behind the old knight.

Caesar, expressionless, watched as Sir Pukins had climbed halfway up the steps, suddenly spoke, “Pukins, do you remember your promise?”

The knight turned around, smiled, “Of course, my uncle… how could I betray the pact between us. Rest assured, the next activation of the Holy Grail will fulfill your wish.”

Caesar said nothing, just silently followed upwards.

The old knight’s stamina seemed to have improved, his pace quickening — just then, at the end of the stairs, a figure appeared.

Kneeling on one knee… a pale face, seemingly heavily injured, clearly visible wounds on the body.

“Oh, Simpton.” The knight stopped, “You’re back too, I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.”

“Encountered a monster, incredibly powerful, I couldn’t even take a single blow,” Simpton bowed his head, his voice unwavering, both hands raising the Demonic Sword.

The old knight frowned, seemingly deducing something from this simple description…

He had Ofen take the Demonic Sword, then reached out to help Simpton up, “Don’t worry about it, my knight. I will grant you greater power… soon. Follow me.”

He walked past Simpton, moving forward… a few steps later, noticing Simpton still stunned in place, the old knight turned around with a slight smile, waved, “Come, don’t linger.”

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PS: Actually, I wanted to update earlier, but there was a power outage at home… Luckily, there wasn’t much loss with this chapter. Otherwise, I’d give up on sleep…