The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1953 - 163: The Tower of London Has Fallen

In the sleeping quarters of Windsor Castle, the candle flame burned extremely slowly, as if pulled by some invisible force, flickering intermittently in the air.

The sky outside was pitch black, like a velvet curtain that absorbed all starlight and hope, tightly wrapping the entire castle, making one despairingly believe they would never see the light of dawn again.

A layer of dew gathered on the windowsill, and even the sound of the wind had disappeared, as if it too could not bear to disturb Queen Adelaide, who had kept vigil by King William IV’s side for ten days without taking a step away.

Queen Adelaide kept watch by the sickbed, leaning on a chair beside the bed, her body almost engulfed in the creases of a disheveled blanket.

She had not closed her eyes for three whole days, her back was sore and numb, and there was a dull ache at the corner of her eyes, yet she dared not fall asleep. Because she feared that the moment she closed her eyes, the hand she had been holding would grow cold and she would never feel its warmth again.

Yet, a mortal’s body is not forged from steel.

Finally, a sort of indistinct and irresistible drowsiness surged up in her heart, not just fatigue, more like being gently dragged into the depths by the tranquil night.

Queen Adelaide’s eyelids were as heavy as if filled with lead, and it felt as if her bones were also filled with freezing rain.

Her head gently bowed, her temple falling into the light and shadow at the edge of the bed.

Finally, her spirit, temporarily, gave way.

She dreamed a dream without color or sound.

There was nothing in the dream, as if the world had been hollowed out, leaving only the vast expanse of ocean, that deep blue strait, which looked so much like the beautiful and serene English Channel, with the sun hanging high in the sky, then gradually slanting westward, inch by inch, slipping below the horizon.

The sun,

fell into the English Channel.

Adelaide suddenly awoke from her slumber, opening her eyes as if she had been abruptly lifted from icy water.

The first thing she saw was William, her husband whom she had watched over day and night.

For a moment, Adelaide thought she might be seeing things, she rubbed her tired and swollen eyes.

Her William, who had been in a stupor for three whole days and nights, had somehow sat up in bed.

His body leaned against the pillow, his cheeks had an odd flush, and his eyes were bright, even carrying a hint of the glow from his youthful sailor days.

Adelaide could hardly believe her eyes.

She quickly stood up, rushing to the bed, her voice trembling and breaking with joy: "William... my dear, you... you are awake?!"

King William IV did not answer immediately; he just quietly looked at her as if in an effort to identify the familiar face in front of him from the overlapping dream and reality.

After a long while, he gave a low chuckle, a sound that seemed to leak from the depths of his chest, yet was unexpectedly clear.

"You’ve stayed up again."

Perhaps because he hadn’t had water for a long time, King William IV’s voice sounded extremely hoarse, but that did not prevent the youthful mischief and affection in his tone.

In an instant, he seemed to have returned to the year when they first stood side by side, at the docks of Portsmouth, gazing at the flagship Victory of General Horatio Nelson, about to set sail.

Adelaide paused for a moment, then suddenly threw herself into King William IV’s chest, tightly holding his thin and warm hand.

"I didn’t sleep," she murmured, her voice choked as if filled with water: "Just blinked a bit."

William looked at her, his eyes tender in a way that hardly seemed like a dying man’s.

He raised his hand, his fingertips gently brushing against her temple, moving so softly as if afraid to disturb the night, afraid that this moment might truly dissipate.

"You’ve always been here," King William IV said: "Since I began to remember things, the world has always been noisy, troublesome, and impatient. But ever since I met you, my world has become quiet."

"You will get better; you will recover," Adelaide choked, she dared not shed tears, but could not control her trembling chin: "I’ll call the Imperial Physician, William, sleep a little longer..."

"No need." William lightly held her wrist, his gaze suddenly becoming clear, serene, like a transparent lake: "I know, I have seen it. Here, this is my end."

Listening to his words, something seemed to break inside Adelaide.

Her throat moved as if she wanted to argue, but in the end, she couldn’t say a word.

She understood that the clarity in King William IV’s eyes was not a sign of recovery, but rather the soul’s final glow before it ascends to heaven.

"I had a very long dream, I dreamed I was back at sea," King William IV spoke softly: "In the wind of the English Channel, the masts creaking, sailors singing old songs, I could hear my name being called in the wind."

He closed his eyes, as if once again immersed in that dreamland that had lasted three days and nights.

"Adelaide, I am not suited to be a king, I have always known that." King William IV spoke without bitterness, but rather with a sense of relief, like laying down armor: "I am just a sailor shoved into a crown. They want me to speak like George, wear formal clothes, sit on a chair embroidered with gold thread, but I’d rather wear a sailor suit, drink rum, and prop my boots on the ship’s railing."

Adelaide listened silently, and finally, tears slowly slid from the corners of her eyes.

"But still, I did it." He turned to look at her: "Stumbling and bumbling, becoming a king. I know I’m not a great ruler like Napoleon, never led the country across Europe, nor am I the reforming monarch they imagine. My Cabinet changed again and again; not once did I gain Parliament’s genuine applause... I often stuttered in speeches, fell from horses, my hands shook when signing decrees..."