"Long live the Queen!"
Arthur's earth-shaking cry struck like a command, instantly snapping everyone out of their stunned silence.
A deeply complex expression flickered across Lord Melbourne's face. He looked at Arthur—kneeling on one knee—then at the violently smashed palace doors and the groaning guards strewn across the ground. His heart brimmed with anger and helplessness, but above all… with an inexplicable sense of admiration.
This boy was far too reckless.
And far too brilliant.
He had used the most barbaric, unconventional method to carry out the "rescue of the sovereign" with perfect precision and timing.
He had not only saved the future Queen from house arrest, but—more importantly—had seized the moment before everyone else, including himself, the Prime Minister, to become the first to swear allegiance to the new monarch.
That single kneeling gesture held extraordinary weight.
It bound the name Arthur Lionheart inseparably to the rise of the new Queen. He was no longer merely her friend or adviser; he had become the rightful First Supporter and First Worthy Subject of this new reign.
"Long live the Queen!"
Lord Melbourne drew a deep breath and slowly lowered himself onto one knee.
At that, the Privy Council ministers behind him—regardless of whatever they felt internally—had no choice but to follow his example. They straightened their robes and, following the Prime Minister, knelt toward the depths of the palace.
For a moment, the entire space before Kensington Palace formed a scene at once magnificent and unsettling.
The Prime Minister of the Empire, the high officials, the soldiers, the newly risen nobles… all knelt upon the ground, awaiting the appearance of their new sovereign.
Inside the palace, the moment Victoria heard those familiar, reassuring shouts from outside, her tears finally burst forth uncontrollably.
It was Arthur.
He was here.
He had truly come like a shining knight, breaking through every obstacle to rescue his princess in distress.
She lifted her skirts and used all her strength to run down the staircase and through the long corridor. When she reached the shattered doorway and saw the familiar figure kneeling right outside, her entire world seemed to blaze with light.
She stood on the steps, still wearing her simple house dress, her hair slightly disheveled from running, her face streaked with fresh tears.
Yet in that moment, in the eyes of all present, she was no longer a delicate princess.
She was the Queen.
The sole sovereign of the entire British Empire.
"You may all rise."
Her voice still held the freshness of a young girl, yet already carried an undeniable authority.
Arthur rose slowly, lifting his head to meet Victoria's gaze on the steps. Thousands of words passed silently between them—without either needing to speak.
Lord Melbourne and the gathered ministers also stood.
"Your Majesty," Lord Melbourne stepped forward, solemnly presenting a freshly drafted document, "His Majesty King William IV passed peacefully half an hour ago. Under the Act of Settlement, you, Alexandrina Victoria, now immediately ascend the throne of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. This is the sworn allegiance of all members of the Privy Council."
Victoria accepted the document. Her hands still trembled slightly, but her gaze was exceptionally steady.
She knew that from this moment onward, her life was forever changed.
Yet the first thing she would do as Queen was not to proceed to Buckingham Palace to receive homage, nor to discuss the King's funeral.
Her eyes passed over everyone and settled on Sir Conroy, who had been kicked aside by Arthur and now lay sprawled on the ground like a dead dog, Barrett's boot upon him.
Looking at the man who had terrorized her for more than a decade, Victoria no longer felt a trace of fear—only the cold wrath of a sovereign.
"Lord Melbourne," she said—not loudly, yet clearly enough for all to hear.
"Your Majesty, I am here."
"I, in the name of the Queen of the British Empire, issue my first royal decree."
Everyone held their breath. They were all eager to see where this young Queen would strike first.
Victoria lifted her hand and pointed toward Conroy and his terrified, disarmed accomplices.
"Sir John Conroy and his co-conspirators," she said, her voice like winter ice. "While the King lay gravely ill and the entire nation was in mourning, they not only failed to share the burdens of the realm—they harbored malicious intent. They placed the heir to the throne under house arrest and attempted to coerce me into signing falsified documents. Their actions are no different from treason."
"I command—" her voice suddenly rose, firm and unyielding, "that all of these individuals be arrested at once! Confine them in the Tower of London! Prime Minister, you are to personally establish a special tribunal to conduct a thorough investigation and try them for their preparatory acts of treason!"
"And furthermore—" she turned her gaze to the depths of the palace, "my mother, the Duchess of Kent, being in poor health, shall 'recuperate' here in Kensington Palace. Without my permission, she is not to take a single step outside, nor is she permitted to receive any external visitors!"
This decree exploded over the crowd like a volley of thunder.
Too… too ruthless.
No one had expected that this seemingly gentle and fragile new Queen would act with such decisiveness, speed, and thunderous authority.
No schemes. No hesitation. She repaid, with interest, every ounce of oppression and humiliation she had endured over the past decade.
Not only did she condemn Conroy—the chief offender—to eternal ruin, but she even placed her own mother under house arrest without mercy.
How could such a thing come from a girl of seventeen or eighteen?
She was clearly a born, iron-willed monarch.
Lord Melbourne looked at Victoria—so utterly changed, radiating a regal aura—and felt both shock and relief. He knew then that the British Empire had gained a true sovereign.
He bowed deeply and accepted the order. "As you command, Your Majesty! I shall carry it out at once!"
"No! You cannot do this to me! I am your mother!" The Duchess of Kent's hysterical scream echoed from deep within the palace.
"Victoria! You ungrateful wretch! May you die a terrible death!" Conroy, still on the ground, spat a beast-like curse.
But none of it mattered anymore.
Before the absolute power of the Queen, their struggles and curses were pale and meaningless.
The guards stepped forward immediately, binding Conroy and his accomplices one by one, dragging them away like carcasses. Ahead of them awaited the darkest cells of the Tower of London and the harshest of judgments.
Arthur watched all of this in silent stillness.
Watching his girl sever, with her own hands, the chains that had bound her for more than a decade—truly rising from her ashes.
He knew that from this moment onward, she would no longer need to hide behind him.
She would stand before him—at the very summit of the Empire—ruling over all.
And he would become the sharpest blade in her hand, cutting down every obstacle and ushering in a magnificent new era.