Chapter 2 : Funeral

"Block all exits from London. Do not let the murderer escape. I want good news from the government within three days," ordered Queen Victoria coldly, her voice echoing through the throne room with an authority that brooked no dissent.

"Yes, Your Majesty," responded Prime Minister Robert Peel solemnly, bowing his head respectfully.

The Prime Minister knew that if he failed to capture the killer within the timeframe set by the Queen, his political career would come to an abrupt end. Although Britain was a constitutional monarchy and the powers of the monarch were limited, no one could deny that Queen Victoria, the architect of the glorious Victorian era, had consolidated considerable influence. Appointing and dismissing the Prime Minister was, for her, a mere formality.

"Where is Arthur now?" asked the Queen, her tone a mix of sorrow and restrained fury.

"At the Royal Hospital, where Princess Louise is also staying," replied Robert Peel.

Princess Louise, the wife of Duke Arthur, was the great-niece of King Frederick William IV of Prussia and Emperor Wilhelm I of Germany, as well as a cousin of the current German Emperor, Wilhelm II. She was also the mother of Arthur, the central figure of this tragedy.

"Let us go see Arthur one last time. I wish to bid farewell to my poor son," murmured Queen Victoria, her voice breaking with grief. Her aged body seemed to sag further under the weight of her loss.

The Royal Hospital, built in the previous century, was the private hospital of the British royal family. It housed some of the most distinguished doctors in the UK and the world, making it one of the finest medical centers of its time.

A convoy of horse-drawn carriages slowly departed from Buckingham Palace, solemnly making its way to the Royal Hospital. The city of London, shrouded in thick fog, seemed to hold its breath, as if aware that something terrible had occurred.

. . . . . . .

At the Royal Hospital, two hours had passed since Duke Arthur had been rushed in for emergency treatment. An hour earlier, he had lost his heartbeat and breath forever.

Seated around his lifeless body were his wife, Princess Louise, and their two daughters, Margaret and Patricia. Even Patricia, the youngest at fourteen, understood the magnitude of the tragedy. Margaret, the elder, wept inconsolably, while Patricia, tears in her eyes, tried to remain strong.

Princess Louise, though visibly affected, maintained a certain composure. Her red eyes and the mist clouding her gaze betrayed her pain, but she refused to lose control. She knew that, as a member of the royal family, she had to be a pillar of strength for her daughters.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door opened, and Queen Victoria entered, firmly holding the hand of Arthur, her son.

"Your Majesty, Arthur," said Princess Louise, forcing herself to remain calm.

In the West, it was customary for daughters-in-law and sons-in-law to address their in-laws by name, but given Queen Victoria's position, Louise opted for the respectful title.

"Louise, Margaret, Patricia," the Queen nodded slowly, looking at each of them with eyes full of sorrow. Finally, her gaze settled on Arthur's lifeless body. "Arthur!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking with emotion.

The Queen approached the bed and gently stroked her son's face, which was slowly growing cold. "Arthur, do not worry. Your mother will avenge you. I will take care of Louise and the children. No harm will come to them. May God guide you to heaven, my son," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Then, her expression changed. The grieving mother transformed into the relentless monarch who had ruled the British Empire for decades. "Prime Minister Robert!" she called out, her voice cold and sharp. "Investigate! It doesn't matter if it's in London, the UK, Europe, or America. Arrest all accomplices connected to the murderer! And let the world know that any act of complicity will be considered a declaration of war against the British Empire. I will not rest until justice is served!"

"Yes, Your Majesty. I will act immediately," replied Robert Peel, bowing before quickly exiting the room.

Queen Victoria's wrath was feared by all in British political circles. No one dared to challenge her authority, especially at a time like this.

"Also, prepare Arthur's funeral at once. Do not let my son wait too long. The sooner we send him to heaven, the more at peace I will be," ordered the Queen, her voice firm yet laden with grief.

Royal funerals were elaborate ceremonies, especially for a prince like Arthur. Every detail had to be perfect, a final tribute to a man who had been loved by his family and respected by his nation.

Not only was it necessary to enlist the regional Bishop to pray and guide the soul of the deceased, ensuring his ascent to heaven, but the body also had to be washed and the Eucharist performed. These preparations, though essential according to tradition, would take at least several days—something Queen Victoria found intolerable.

"I understand, Your Highness," said Prime Minister Robert, who naturally did not dare to refuse and quickly agreed to expedite the arrangements.

Queen Victoria, her expression stern but her eyes filled with pain, gave a series of instructions to Princesses Louise, Margaret, and Patricia before departing with Arthur and the rest of the royal entourage.

. . . . . . .

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

This sacred place, reserved for members of the British Royal Family, housed the remains of kings and distinguished figures from past centuries. Today, another body would be laid to rest in this hallowed ground: that of Duke Arthur, a man whose life, though short, had been filled with glory and sacrifice.

Early in the morning, Queen Victoria arrived at the funeral accompanied by all members of the Royal Family. A detachment of royal guards, their uniforms immaculate and rifles shouldered, escorted the funeral procession, fulfilling both ceremonial and protective duties.

Duke Arthur had been a man of arms, a natural leader. He had served as an officer in South Africa, Canada, Ireland, Egypt, and India, leaving a trail of respect and admiration wherever he went. Not only had he been the Commander-in-Chief of Ireland, but he also held the title of "Chief of the Six Nations" of the Iroquois Confederacy and the rank of Field Marshal in the British Army. His death was not just a loss for the Royal Family, but for the entire Empire.

For this reason, hundreds of people gathered in the streets of Windsor to bid farewell to the Duke. Soldiers, veterans, and civilians lined the route, paying homage to the man who had honorably defended the British flag.

Duke Arthur's coffin departed from the Royal Hospital, carried in a horse-drawn funeral carriage. The procession moved slowly, escorted by the royal guards, as church bells tolled in mourning. The sound of hooves on the cobblestones and the murmur of the crowd created a solemn and heart-wrenching atmosphere.

Arthur, the young protagonist, watched everything with a mix of disbelief and sorrow. Only three months had passed since he had, for reasons he still did not fully understand, traveled back in time to this era. In that short period, his father, Duke Arthur, had welcomed him with affection and taught him the values of honor and duty. Now, with his death, Arthur felt lost, like a ship adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

The coffin was placed in the prepared grave. The Bishop, his voice deep and solemn, delivered the final blessings. Queen Victoria, her tears held back, placed a white rose on the casket. Princesses Louise, Margaret, and Patricia wept silently, while government members and army officers paid their respects with a salute.

Arthur stood motionless, staring at his father's grave. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions: sadness, anger, confusion. He knew that, from this moment on, his life would never be the same. Duke Arthur had left him not only a legacy of honor but also a responsibility that now rested on his shoulders. What should he do? How could he follow in the footsteps of such a great man?

As the sun began to set on the horizon, Arthur made a decision. No matter how difficult the path, he would honor his father's memory. Whether on the battlefield or in the halls of power, his name would be remembered with the same respect and admiration as that of Duke Arthur.