Instead of answering, the long-suffering goblet that had been picked up from the floor flew at them again.

In the morning, Arthur and Edward waited for the king in the winter garden near the fountain. The soft sunlight played in Arthur's red hair.

– All the archives are classified. I've never seen such protection. There is a royal seal.

– The Lion King the Seventh himself?

– Yes. And the witch's prediction came true. We arrived just in time for her funeral. Her young great-granddaughter doesn't know anything. Robin the First strode majestically into the conservatory.

– Good morning.

The dukes exchanged puzzled glances. The King continued:

– How long will it take to break the protection?

– At least a week, – said Arthur.

– When is the Countess coming?

– Well, I gave her three days. You know: aunts, carriages, crinolines… We are now meeting with the Minister of War. He has a lot of interesting things accumulated.

– Yes, – Robin said coldly. I know all this interesting stuff by heart. If Arenia and Piran unite, there will be nothing left of us. And such a turn of events is a matter of time. By the way, send Linea out of the palace.

– Is this your last favorite? – Edward asked.

– The last one? Hold your tongue! – the imperturbable monarch replied.

– Just send it away? – Arthur asked.

– Marry her off, – the king snapped.

– She's already married, – the Bear persisted.

– Then give her some presents and send her back to her husband, – Robin said again.

– Yes, that's right, Robin, – Edward said suddenly, his green eyes shining mysteriously. – You have a betrothed now. You have no time for mistresses.

There was a roar of laughter, and Robin winced. While the friends were enjoying themselves, the butler appeared at the door and addressed the king:

– Your Majesty, the Countess Anna Rhein requests an audience.

– What? Did she get here overnight?! – The representatives of the higher aristocracy shouted in unison.

– Let her pass, – Robin said, exchanging glances with his friends.

The three of them stared curiously at the doors.

– Countess Anna Raine, – the butler announced, and thumped his staff three times on the floor.

The vision that soon appeared took the breath out of all three of them. She was beautiful and young. However, female beauty at court is not uncommon. Brown eyes, dark unusually thick hair, a thin figure, perfect features and a delicate blush attracted the eyes. There was also an extraordinary warmth coming from this lady. The king lost his sense of reality for a moment. It seemed that as long as she was around, nothing bad would happen to him.

Meanwhile, the girl, timidly looking back and looking at him questioningly, came closer and curtsied.

– How do you do, Your Majesty, my lords?

Edward and Arthur bowed in return.

– I brought the key by order of Your Majesty, – she broke off, reaching into the folds of her modest cloak, from under which an equally modest traveling dress peeked out.

– Madame, are you out of your mind? – The king's icy voice suddenly pierced the silence.

The lady looked at the monarch, startled and puzzled.

– Excuse me, Your Majesty?

– To appear at the reception of the head of state in a fake magical guise? What were you thinking?! And how did you get through the arch that knows everyone? I'll have to help you wash away the sorcery.

Robin grabbed the beautiful woman by the arm and spun her around sharply, sending her into the fountain. The butler, who was standing nearby, gasped in surprise, and Arthur and Edward coughed, but Anna, who was in the water, did not make a sound. The impact was so strong that she lost her balance and sat down in the bowl. The shimmering silver spray soaked her through. With a funny sniff, the Countess brushed the wet strands from her face and asked:

– Can I go out now? Or will Your Majesty order me to sit here a little longer?

As the king studied her intently, not a muscle moved in his face, except for a strange gleam in his black eyes.

– Come out, – he said.

Anna stood up, wringing out the wet hem, oblivious to the eager glances of the young men directed at her.

– The Duke of Lanber is the Minister of War, – the butler's booming voice said, making everyone forget about the fountain.

The Minister of War – a stern man with graying temples, was often compared to a block of ice, and it seemed to many that he was not capable of showing emotions at all. The man entered the conservatory, looking as trim and unruffled as ever – the iceberg man, the uncomplaining screw of the state machine, who, with the same expression on his face, reports to the king and gives orders to the soldier. He strode past the wet lady, not even glancing in her direction or showing any surprise.