1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

Chapter 98 By order of His Majesty the King

After declining the congressional secretary's "kind offer," Michelle stayed in Wilkesworth for a few more days.

These past few days have been the most peaceful and comfortable days he has had since he transmigrated.

The atmosphere at home was more harmonious than ever before.

Charlie completely abandoned his "head of the household" attitude and even took the initiative to help Bella in the kitchen, always wearing a silly grin on his face.

She's like a completely different person.

His greatest pleasure now is to take the London Express, which published "The Vanished Railroad," and tell his neighbors over and over again how he "went into the lion's den" and "bravely went undercover."

Although the version of the story has been upgraded from the original "cooperating with his son" to "personally directing his son and remotely controlling the Metropolitan Police."

But everyone listened happily, and no one called him out.

Everything is going in a good direction.

But Michelle knew that this was ultimately only a temporary haven for him.

His battlefield was in London.

The day I left home, the weather was exceptionally clear.

The whole family came to see him off.

"Take good care of yourself in London, don't overwork yourself."

Bella stuffed a freshly baked apple pie into his luggage, her eyes slightly red.

"Michelle, remember to write to us often."

Anna's eyes were also filled with reluctance.

Charlie patted him hard on the shoulder, his lips moved, but he only managed to utter one sentence.

"Don't worry about me at home."

Michelle smiled and hugged them before boarding the carriage back to London.

As the carriage drove out of the town, he looked back and saw his family members' figures gradually shrinking in the morning light.

But he felt little sadness, only warmth.

He was no longer fighting alone.

The warmth of family comforted the lonely soul that had traveled through time.

This home is completely different from when I arrived.

The father's inner conflict was resolved, and the family crisis passed.

And he himself was no longer just a time traveler who made money by copying books.

When he felt that his words could bring about real change, Michel was no longer just a narrator; he became a part of the story.

When Michelle returned to her apartment in Bloomsbury, she found that Dickens and Michael were both there.

That's not surprising; Michelle doesn't have maids or anything like that.

Someone has to keep the house clean, so Michelle left a key for Michael to hire someone to clean.

The two men were sitting in his living room, drinking tea and having a heated discussion.

Upon seeing him return, the two immediately rushed to greet him as if he were their savior.

"Michel! You're finally back!" Michael grabbed his arm, excitedly saying, "You have no idea how excited London was while you were gone!"

"The magazine has already been reprinted three times, and now its price on the black market is five times the original price!"

"There are even people who collect all your articles and sell them now..."

""

Dickens added, his excitement evident on his face.

"And those congressmen, they all want to see you. Our editorial office is practically your liaison office!"

Michelle smiled somewhat helplessly and hung her coat and hat on the hanger.

"In fact, I've already received calls from people in the past few days."

He briefly recounted how he had refused Councilor Granville's offer in the small town.

Dickens listened and nodded approvingly.

"Well done! We are writers, not mouthpieces for politicians. Only by remaining independent can we prevent our pens from being broken."

Michael seemed somewhat regretful, but he also respected Michelle's choice.

The three were chatting when the apartment doorbell suddenly rang.

Michelle got up to open the door, and the apartment manager's overly enthusiastic face appeared in the doorway.

He was slightly bowed, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, and his voice was so excited that he stuttered a little.

"Mr. Michel, downstairs...a royal messenger has arrived downstairs!"

The manager swallowed hard, seemingly trying to make his voice sound more steady.

"It is said that..."

...They say it's an invitation from His Majesty the King! It must, absolutely must be delivered to you personally!

The apartment fell silent instantly, leaving Dickens and Michael bewildered.

Michelle herself was stunned.

king?

William IV?

The invitation you sent me?

For a moment, he couldn't distinguish between reality and dreams.

Michelle walked to the apartment door, where a messenger in a sharp uniform stood downstairs with a solemn expression.

The messenger's eyes remained unmoved; he merely glanced at Michelle with a businesslike air.

"By order of the Lord Chamberlain, His Majesty's invitation is to be presented to Mr. Michel Leblanc himself."

After confirming Michelle's identity, he handed her a thick letter with both hands.

The envelope was made of fine cardstock, with a clear royal coat of arms sealed in the center with sealing wax.

After delivering the document, the messenger nodded slightly, turned and left without saying a word.

Michelle held the invitation in her hand, her fingertips still able to clearly feel the intricate patterns of the wax seal...

This is an invitation from the highest levels of the British government!

As for authenticity... who would dare to forge it?

He returned to the living room, where Dickens and Michael both turned to look at the envelope in his hand.

"My God..."

'

Dickens finally came to his senses and let out a long breath.

"Michelle, it seems you have a very important person among your readers."

Michael got up and walked around Michelle as if observing some rare species, muttering to himself, "No, this doesn't make sense... This doesn't follow procedure at all, unless..."

'

He didn't finish his sentence, unless it was something else.

All eyes were focused on the scarlet wax seal.

The lion, a symbol of the British Empire, is roaring silently.

Michelle tore open the wax seal and pulled out the letter inside.

The letter was not long.

"By order of His Majesty the King, we cordially invite Mr. Michel Leblanc to attend the Royal Dinner at St. James's Palace on the 15th of next month."

At the end of the letter was the Minister of the Interior's handwritten signature.

"Oh my god!"

Michael couldn't help but let out a soft gasp.

He leaned closer for a look and was completely stunned.

Dickens also came over, and after repeatedly checking the royal coat of arms and signature, his expression turned to ecstasy.

He was genuinely happy for Michelle!

"It's St. James's Palace! It's an invitation to a dinner party at St. James's Palace!"

He excitedly grabbed Michelle's shoulders.

"Michel! Do you know what this means? His Majesty the King has approved of you! The entire upper class of the British Empire will open its doors to you!"

This is the highest honor a writer can receive.

"What's the difference?"

Michelle was somewhat puzzled.

"Generally speaking, even an invitation from His Majesty the King is divided into several levels."

Michael then calmed down and explained in detail to Michelle.

"The most prestigious event is, of course, the coronation banquet or the inauguration banquet..."

'

"The least desirable is the impromptu banquet at Brighton Royal Palace, which is a specialty of our King William."

There, court etiquette was completely disregarded; it was more like a club activity.

'

(Photo shows Brighton Royal Palace)

"Banquets at St. James's Palace are of medium quality, primarily attended by dignitaries and high-ranking officials."

'

(Photo shows St. James's Palace)

"I thought His Majesty the King was inviting you to Brighton Royal Palace. I never expected it to be St. James's Palace."

'

Michael looked at Michelle with envy.

"It seems His Majesty the King has a very good impression of you..."

'

However, there wasn't much joy on Michelle's face.

This is both an honor and a whirlpool of storms.

He can refuse a congressman without hesitation.

But refusing the king is another matter entirely.

That would not only be rude, but could even be seen as contempt for the royal family.

Michelle had no choice.

He has to go.

However, he really needs to prepare properly.