In the Name of the Queen

The dream is over.

Roland stood up with a look of disappointment.

In the dream, the elf girl held her chin with both hands, with a smile on her lips, listening to him making up a love story between a poor boy and a queen across classes, listening to him talking about a three-year agreement, and watching him twist his lips to perform a dragon king descending.

No matter what the story was, she listened patiently.

The smile of the elf girl was the best hymn.

Good dream, but it was a pity that he had to wake up eventually.

The moment he opened his eyes, he had never been in love, but he had already broken up.

At the most helpless age, he met the first girl who moved his heart, and it was in a dream.

This world is as cruel as ever.

Roland got up numbly, washed, changed clothes, and found a suitcase to put his belongings in.

Although there was nothing valuable worth bringing, he couldn't go empty-handed and let the Golden Kite people laugh at the poor Sussex for begging for food.

Even if he was begging, he had to be neatly combed and bright.

It was impossible to go to work. I had to work tomorrow, so why go to work today?

But he had to go to the post office.

The manuscript of the novel he had worked so hard on was still in the office.

At least he had a souvenir.

Goodbye, Sussex.

Goodbye, royal essay contest.

Damn literary dream!

After packing up, he straightened his collar and left the small house where he had lived for 18 years.

When he walked out of the house, an autumn wind blew, scattering countless sycamore leaves, making the young man who was about to leave home feel a little desolate.

When he arrived at the post office, it was almost time to get off work. A few people were sitting in the hall communicating with the clerk, and the waitress at the front desk had no smile on her tired face.

Everyone was busy, and he seemed like an outsider.

Just as he was about to go upstairs, Lisa appeared in a hurry.

"Roland, there is a noble lady in your office."

"Noble lady?"

Roland suddenly became alert. He lowered his voice and asked, "How many people did she bring? Where are her men ambushing?"

"Ambush?"

Lisa said softly, "This noble lady only brought the housekeeper and maid, no soldiers. She is reading your novel in the office. Do you want to go and take a look?"

No armed personnel?

It seems that she is not arresting anyone.

I am idle anyway, so it doesn't hurt to go and see her.

Kairun's mentality became much calmer when he thought about it.

It's just a noble lady, not Her Majesty the Queen waiting in the office to interrogate him.

When he went upstairs, his steps became vigorous again.

"Dear lady, I am Roland, the clerk of the Imperial Post Office. May I ask how I can help you?"

Roland stood at the door of the office and knocked on the door.

The noble girl didn't say anything, but just pointed to the seat opposite.

Roland sat down casually opposite and looked at the noble girl with interest.

Unfortunately, nothing can be seen.

She was wearing a tight dress and a butterfly mask on her face, obviously not wanting to show her true face in front of the common people.

Typical arrogance of the old Sussex nobles.

In their eyes, it was an offense for the common people to breathe the same air under the blue sky as them.

After a moment, the noble girl closed the manuscript and asked softly: "Did the young Arthur marry the daughter of Red Beard after completing the three-year agreement? After all, they were lovers."

"Red Beard's daughter tore up the engagement in public, so Arthur certainly would not marry her. In the end, Red Beard's daughter became Arthur's slave."

"How could this happen? I thought Arthur still loved her?" The noble girl put her white and tender fingers on her lips and muttered softly.

"Arthur does love her. If he didn't, Arthur should kill her whole family."

The noble girl: "."

Roland's expression was also a little unnatural.

These barbarians from other worlds don't understand cool stories at all, it's just playing the lute to a cow.

"My dear lady, what do you want to talk to me about?"

"I'm sorry, I was so absorbed in reading a novel that I didn't have time to introduce myself. I'm Sif Tyrone, Earl of Tyrone. I saw your name in the shortlisted works for the royal essay contest, and I came to visit you because I admire your name."

The noble girl stood up, pinching the hem of her skirt, and gave a standard noble lady's salute.

Although her face couldn't be seen, her movements were elegant and graceful, and her every move was filled with an indescribable noble temperament.

Roland didn't expect the other party to be so polite, and he was a little flustered.

He didn't even know what salute to return.

Gentleman's salute? He's not a noble.

Military salute? He's not a soldier.

Knight's salute? He's not a knight.

Hesitantly, he stared at the girl and gave her a focused salute.

Fortunately, Miss Sif didn't care about his impoliteness, and just motioned him to sit down.

"Did you write all these novels?"

Roland silently apologized to his colleagues in another world, and after forgiving himself with the excuse that "it doesn't affect their income in this world anyway", he said frankly:

"At least in this world, their copyright belongs to me."

"Your words are full of the humor unique to writers." Sif pursed her lips and smiled.

She discussed the plots in the books with Roland with great interest.

Because these books have experienced failed submissions, they have no endings, and Sif is naturally curious about the endings of the stories.

After Roland briefly described the ending, Sif's curiosity grew stronger and stronger.

"Mr. Roland, your stories seem to have perfect happy endings, which seems to be different from the mainstream tragedy writing style in the literary world. You must know that the most famous works in our literary world are the four tragedies."

Roland shrugged and said calmly: "I can understand. Most of the people who study are aristocrats or social elites. They generally have no pressure in life. While they have wealth and beauties, they also lose their worries, so they want to read in literary works. Asking for trouble.”

"What they like is not tragedy, but psychological satisfaction."

"I prefer to write stories for ordinary people. So I hope to write more stories about kind people with good endings and family reunions."

"There are already many stories dedicated to nobles, and I am one of them."

Sif looked at Roland silently. She could feel that Roland was venting some emotions that had been accumulated for a long time through those words.

The image of a down-and-out writer who was willing to write stories for ordinary people and full of literary character was quickly completed in her mind.

She almost took out the invitation letter and handed it to Roland, but a gust of breeze blew through the leaky window and she suddenly woke up.

"Is this the reason why you wrote such a shocking work as "Oh my God, Her Majesty the Queen is pregnant, who did it?"?"

"Do ordinary people like this kind of novel?"

Facing Countess Sif's soul questioning, Roland knew very well that this was a special envoy sent by the Queen to inspect him.

Maybe he should put on a good show, maybe he should take the opportunity to explain that Her Majesty was a Princess when he wrote, and that he didn't mean to slander.

But the words turned into a "Yes."

Just kidding, violent pornography is always the most eye-catching topic, coupled with the hazy beauty brought by the Queen's noble status, who can control it?

The air fell into a deathly silence.

The silence was deafening.

After a long time, Earl Sif said softly: "I understand that you are not harming the Queen's reputation, it is just necessary for the plot."

"Dear Miss Sif, you are truly a wise man bathed in the light of wisdom."

Roland did not hesitate to praise him.

If Her Majesty the Queen was half as smart as Earl Sif, why would she bother?

Seeing Roland's relieved expression, Earl Sif said softly: "I am a close friend of Her Majesty the Queen, and she entrusted me to examine your literary talents."

"Congratulations, you won the essay competition championship."

Count Sif took out an invitation from the small crocodile skin bag he carried with him, pressed it on the table and pushed it forward.

The invitation floated in front of Roland and stopped slowly.

“In two weeks, Her Majesty the Queen will hold the first Art Salon of her reign at Sheffield Castle, and the winner of the essay competition will attend the salon as a special guest.”

"You have never been to such a party, right? Don't worry, the dress and etiquette teachers have been specially prepared."

Sif stood up and prepared to leave.

Roland quickly stood up and prepared to see him off.

"If you want to thank me, write these stories in full. I want to read them."

Count Sif left these words and left.

Two maids held floor-length skirts, and the figure of the noble girl gradually disappeared at the door.

Haha, I finally don’t need to moisturize anymore.

Roland couldn't help but want to laugh wildly.

But after laughing, he realized the seriousness of another thing.

What to do with the agreement with the female spy Jin Yuan?