The Funeral

"Seal all exits out of London. The assassin must not be allowed to escape. I want to hear good news from the government within three days," Queen Victoria said coldly.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Prime Minister Robert Gascoyne-Cecil replied solemnly.

Prime Minister Robert Gascoyne-Cecil knew that if he failed to capture the assassin within the time limit set by Her Majesty the Queen, his days as prime minister would likely come to an end.

Although the United Kingdom was one of the world's most representative constitutional monarchies, the powers of the King of Britain had already been restricted far too much.

Yet no one could deny that Queen Victoria, who had single-handedly created the glorious Victorian Era, once again wielded a vast amount of power in her hands, and dismissing a prime minister was nothing more than a matter of a single word.

"Where is Arthur right now?" Queen Victoria inquired with a grief-stricken expression.

"At the Royal Hospital, and Princess Louise is there as well," Prime Minister Robert Gascoyne-Cecil replied.

Princess Louise was the wife of Duke Arthur, the great-niece of King Frederick IV of Prussia and Emperor William I of Germany, the cousin of the reigning Emperor William II of the German Empire, and also Arthur's mother.

"Let's go. To see Arthur for the last time, and look in on my poor child," Queen Victoria sighed, as if resigning herself to fate, her already aged frame seeming to stoop much lower all at once.

The Royal Hospital was an ancient hospital built in the previous century, and also the private hospital of the entire British Royal Family.

Famed physicians from all over Britain and even the world gathered here, making it one of the top hospitals globally.

A line of horse-drawn carriages slowly departed from Buckingham Palace, heading straight for their destination at the Royal Hospital.

Meanwhile, inside the Royal Hospital.

A full two hours had already passed since Duke Arthur was rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment, and as early as an hour ago Duke Arthur had permanently lost his breath and heartbeat.

At this moment, seated tightly around Duke Arthur's remains were his wife Princess Louise and their two daughters, Marguerite and Patricia.

Even the youngest daughter, Patricia, was fourteen years old and long past the age of ignorant innocence.

Seeing their once kind and amiable father having lost his breath and lying pale on the hospital bed in the blink of an eye, both Marguerite and Patricia found it somewhat unacceptable, collapsing over Duke Arthur's remains and weeping bitterly.

Princess Louise on the side fared slightly better, managing at least to keep her somewhat crumbling emotions in check so as not to be completely out of control like her two daughters.

Yet her reddened eye sockets and the shimmering mist of tears at the corners of her eyes also proved that Princess Louise's heart was far from at ease.

Knock, knock, knock!

Amidst a flurry of noisy footsteps, Princess Louise directed her gaze toward the doorway, immediately spotting Queen Victoria walking slowly while holding Arthur's hand.

"Your Majesty, Arthur," Princess Louise said, forcibly reigning in her emotions.

In the West, whether daughter-in-law or son-in-law, people generally addressed their parents-in-law by their given names.

Given Queen Victoria's noble status, however, Princess Louise naturally could not address Queen Victoria directly by name, shifting instead to a title of respect.

"Louise, Marguerite, Patricia," Queen Victoria nodded slowly toward Princess Louise, then cast her gaze in turn upon Marguerite and Patricia, finally shifting her eyes slowly to Duke Arthur on the hospital bed as she spoke with difficulty: "Arthur!"

"Arthur!"

When calling out Duke Arthur's name once more, Queen Victoria had already hurried to the side of Duke Arthur's hospital bed.

Caressing Duke Arthur's face, which was gradually growing cold, Queen Victoria spoke slowly: "Arthur, rest assured, Mother will avenge you. I will also take good care of Louise and the three little ones, and I will never let anyone harm them. May God guide you to heaven, my son."

"Prime Minister Robert!" Turning back around, Queen Victoria—who had just been a grieving mother who lost her child—transformed once again into the monarch who had wielded power for decades, saying coldly: "Investigate this! Whether in London or Britain, or even Europe or the Americas. As long as you uncover any accomplices connected to the assassin, arrest every single one of them! At the same time, notify the entire world that any act of participating in or assisting the murderer is a declaration of war against the British Empire! Spare no expense to get to the bottom of this!"

"Yes, Queen Victoria, I'll go right away," Prime Minister Robert Gascoyne-Cecil replied in a hurry.

A Queen Victoria in a rage was a presence before which the entire British political sphere would retreat three steps; no one dared provoke Her Majesty's majesty, nor did anyone dare question Her Majesty's authority.

"In addition, prepare Arthur's funeral immediately. I cannot let my child wait too long. The sooner I send Arthur to heaven, the more at ease I will be," Queen Victoria instructed.

Western funerals remained rather cumbersome, especially burials conducted with the rank of prince like that of Duke Arthur, making the procedures all the more tedious.

Not only did they have to hire a regional bishop to conduct prayers and entreat the deceased's soul to ascend to heaven, but there were also the washing of the body, Holy Communion, and more.

This series of preparations would take at least several more days, which was intolerable for Queen Victoria.

"I understand, Your Highness," Prime Minister Robert naturally did not dare refuse, hastily agreeing.

After Queen Victoria gave many more instructions to Princess Louise, Marguerite, and Patricia, she finally left with Arthur and the others.

January 7, 1900, Windsor Royal Cemetery, Berkshire, United Kingdom.

This was the private cemetery of the British Royal Family, where many noble kings and royal family members from hundreds of years past were buried. And now, yet another corpse was to be added to this plot of land: that of Duke Arthur.

Early in the morning, Queen Victoria led all members of the royal family to attend this funeral, accompanied by a squad of Royal Guards performing ceremonial and security duties.

This noble and illustrious duke had lived a brief yet colorful life, having not only served as an officer in South Africa, Canada, Ireland, Egypt, and India, but also holding the posts of current Commander-in-Chief in Ireland, recipient of the title of Chief of the Six Nations Confederacy of the Iroquois Confederacy, and Field Marshal of the United Kingdom.

This also led many citizens to voluntarily turn out to bid farewell to Duke Arthur at his funeral.

Duke Arthur's coffin departed from the Royal Hospital, progressing slowly upon the royal carriage, and arrived all the way at the Royal Cemetery.

Amidst the farewells of many British citizens, all members of the royal family, and government officials, Duke Arthur's coffin was placed into the pre-prepared tomb, with the bishop performing the final benediction.

Arthur watched all of this, feeling somewhat bewildered in his heart.

Having crossed over only three months ago, he had just lost his father—Duke Arthur, who had been very good to him—and what was he supposed to do next?