The questioning was undisguised.
“Wendy, I know you are very clever and can always come up with some strange ideas. But… writing a story and ruling a country are two different things. A script for a play requires deep literary skill, as well as knowing how to arrange conflicts and mold characters. This isn’t something that can be achieved through pure imagination.”
Queen Yekaterina spoke very diplomatically, but her meaning couldn’t be clearer: as a pampered Prince, what do you know about creation?
Prime Minister Allison did not speak, but her silence was an attitude in itself.
In matters of statecraft, she could Trust Wendy’s erratic genius; however, in a completely unfamiliar field that required professional knowledge, she maintained a necessary skepticism.
“Mm…”
Faced with the “disdain” of these two powerful women, Wendy did not argue.
Instead, his mouth puckered, his upright posture slumped, and his head tilted back, burying itself once again into that warm, soft place.
He rubbed the back of his head against Astreia’s chest, letting out a whimpering moan like a small animal.
The lines of his profile were written with “I quit” and “You’re all bullying me.”
This display of acting like a spoiled child instantly shattered the serious atmosphere of the Council Hall.
Yekaterina was both annoyed and amused, her cheeks flushing involuntarily.
How could this guy behave like an unweaned kitten when they were discussing something as vital as an empty national treasury!
How hateful! Truly hateful!
Astreia looked at her “wronged” beloved in her arms, her eyes instantly turning into spring water, overflowing with a pampering gaze that could drown someone.
Her heart was melting.
She smiled and lowered her head, ignoring the presence of the other two, and gave those slightly pouted lips a soft peck.
“Mwah.”
The soft sound was like a stone cast into a heart-shaped lake, sending ripples spreading outward.
“Ignore them,” the Witch breathed out a sweet fragrance and said softly.
“My Wendy is the best, and I believe in you.”
This Encouragement, filled with absolute favoritism and Trust, acted like a stimulant, instantly healing the Prince’s “fragile” soul.
He was immediately revitalized, straightening his back as his face returned to that confident smile of a man who held all the cards.
“Prime Minister Allison, could you give me some paper and a pen?”
The Prime Minister’s eyes shifted.
Though still skeptical, she nodded and signaled the Adjutant to bring the writing materials.
Soon, fresh, high-quality paper and a Feather Pen, along with a small vial of ink, were respectfully placed on the table in front of Wendy.
However, Wendy did not start writing immediately.
He first shifted his body, adjusting to a more comfortable position in Astreia’s embrace.
Then, he unhurriedly reached out and pulled the low table closer, spreading the Sheepskin Parchment across the Witch’s beautiful legs.
Warm skin radiated incredible heat through the thin fabric of her skirt, and the soft sensation made the Sheepskin Parchment seem even more pliant.
This shocking act almost caused the Little Queen, Yekaterina, to bite her tongue.
He… he used Elder Sister’s thighs as a desk?!
How did this man dare!
Astreia, far from being displeased, had an even deeper smile in her eyes.
She even considerately adjusted her sitting posture so her legs could serve as a more stable “table,” placing a hand gently on Wendy’s shoulder in silent Encouragement.
Wendy was oblivious to the surrounding stares.
He dipped the pen in ink, and the vision of a western fantasy epic had already appeared in his mind—The Lord of the Rings.
But he didn’t start with the slow-burn beginning of the original “In Hobbiton in The Shire.”
Instead, he chose a style more like a web novel, a point of entry with more impact.
[Chapter 1: Whispers in the Dark and the Progenitor of All Rings]
[“Sauron is watching you…” a raspy voice echoed in Gandalf’s mind. The Grey Wizard snapped awake from his meditation, his forehead drenched in cold sweat.]
[Outside the window, The Shire, which should have been peaceful, was now shrouded in an ominous Shadow. He knew that the ring, The One Ring, had awakened.]
[Chapter 2: An Unannounced Guest and an Inherited Legacy]
[Bilbo Baggins’s birthday feast should have been the most joyful celebration in all of The Shire. But when he put on that golden ring and vanished into thin air before everyone, panic began to spread. Gandalf found him, his gaze more severe than ever: “Bilbo, hand over the ring! This is no Toy; this is a disaster capable of destroying the entire Middle-earth!”]
[Chapter 3: The Embryo of the Fellowship]
[Frodo Baggins, an ordinary Hobbit, never imagined his Destiny would become entangled with a tiny ring. But when Gandalf placed that heavy ring into his palm and told him he must travel to Mount Doom to destroy it, he knew his peaceful life was over. He would become the first member of the Fellowship of the Ring.]
Suspense, crisis, a golden finger, a clear goal, and a grand worldview… hitting them with this combination, he didn’t believe the natives of this World could withstand it!
His thoughts moved like lightning as Wendy’s pen flew.
He wasn’t writing the full story, but something like a script outline, using the most concise language to clearly present the core explosive points and plot twists of the first three chapters.
At this moment, the Council Hall fell into an eerie silence.
Only the “scratching” sound of the Feather Pen tip gliding across the Sheepskin Parchment could be heard.
Sunlight spilled through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, casting light onto Astreia’s skirt and the man leaning over her legs, writing furiously.
His profile was focused and serious, his soft hair swaying slightly with the motion of writing.
The scene was harmonious and intimate, yet possessed a bizarre tension.
Yekaterina and Allison’s gazes were involuntarily drawn toward him.
They watched the man, on the world’s softest “desk,” sketch out a world known to no one.
After an unknown amount of time, Wendy finally stopped writing.
He let out a long breath, picked up the three sheets of fine paper covered in handwriting, gently blew the ink dry, and handed them to Allison.
“Prime Minister, I’ll have to trouble you to judge whether this ‘story’ has any commercial value.”
Allison’s gaze moved away from the Prince’s face.
She silently took the papers, her eyes still filled with scrutiny.
The first thing she saw was a title—The Magic Ring.
A very ordinary name; nothing original about it.
She suppressed her impatience and began reading the first line.
However, after only a few seconds, Allison’s expression underwent a subtle change.
Her gray eyes, usually as calm as a deep well, suddenly constricted.
Immediately, she subconsciously sat up straighter and held the Sheepskin Parchment closer.
Her initial nonchalance was quickly replaced by focus.
Even her breathing became shallow, as if afraid to disturb the words on the paper…
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