Woolfhild's fourteen-year-old naming day was spent at sea, as she emerged from the sprawling stone castle and was thrown into a strange world, where she was constantly wrapped in a thick blue woollen embroidered robe, her blue-grey eyes fixed on the earthenware statue of the Virgin on the wall.

The ship is like a tomb! She thought to herself, as the walls of the oak planks were lined with narrow wooden boxes, and the small beds dug out of the square wood were more like the coffins of the dead, and the corrosive smell of moisture and salt water made her have to dissipate them with cider.

Sailing in the North Sea was boring and dangerous, and though it wasn't the worst of piracy, the northerners' tolllog houses still hid their hideiest faces, their ships hidden in the rocks beyond the harbor, ready to kill. However, Wulfheard did not know this, and naturally did not rely on those heroic spirits who died at the bottom of the sea.

For the sailors on board, this kind of voyage was nothing, and the real thrill of the sea was in the more open north, and the sky in the far north sometimes had that realistic illusion, like the dawn, but in the prism of the sea to conjure up roses and golden-blue ripples, a moment of true divinity. Perhaps in a few months, the sailors will be in one of the harbors again, watching the people on the shore handle the sturgeon with great agility, the disemboweled, salted piles of fresh fish that always look wet and bright red, reminding them of a woman's body.

"He said that we must find a wife for that guy this time, because his sheep have long been fed up."

The laughter of the crowd reached the cabin, and Woolfheard didn't know what it was, she just felt cold.

The next day, she walked out of the cabin with her puppy in her arms, the silver glow of the clouds glowing rosy, the cracks that opened like a skylight, and the sun's color poured down, making the ever-changing sea a temple-like solemnity and tranquility.

Someone was humming an old tune, and Woolfheard stopped teasing the wolf-like puppy, and brushed its clumsy paws away, and she felt a cold pleasure, and the rude men glanced at the little girl from time to time, and then began to talk about the latest rumors of the sea, which seemed to be a story of a certain Flemish pirate named Guinemel.

"My lord, how long will it take for us to arrive?" Woolfchild asked the oncoming Earl.

"It's coming, my child." The old Earl of Nordheim couldn't help but sigh, the rickety deck made him very uncomfortable, but he had to come this time.

Henry IV defeated almost all his enemies and took control of Rome, the emperor's army was invincible in the battlefields of war inside and outside the empire, the princes trembled at his feet, and foreign monarchs began to accept Clement III, the emperor's pope.

Nothing kept him awake at night more than Henry's might, and under normal circumstances, a prince in his seventies would have been a deposed man, but Otto's anger prompted him to finally take on the mission, and Otto von Nordheim, the former Duke of Bavaria, set sail for the West under the worried gaze of the Saxons.

"Have you ever met the prince of England?" The girl asked suddenly.

"I haven't seen it, but if that kid had the spirit of his father, I'm afraid your life wouldn't be easy." The old man couldn't help but smile.

"I hope the prince will be as well-behaved as my 'Lubinoe.'" Woolfheard stroked the puppy's ear, causing it to grin in rude protest.

The Count laughed and shook his head, "He's a prince anyway, and princes rarely like to be obedient." ”

The old man didn't go on, he knew what the prince meant—he couldn't remember what he had been like when he first met Henry IV, but he still remembered the way the little boy struggled when he and the Archbishop of Cologne snatched young Henry from his mother, and Henry, who was only twelve years old at the time, tried to break free of control like a wild boar cub, and finally even tumbled straight out of the boat into the river, and jumped into the water to get him back up.

What if Henry hadn't been rescued by then? Otto couldn't help but wonder if he would have chosen to jump into the icy Rhine if he had known what kind of enemy that stubborn boy would become.

The princes all have a devil hidden in their hearts, and Otto knows very well that it is he who has unleashed the one in Henry's heart.

In order to prevent the Count of Flanders from blocking them, the fleet was very low-key along the way, and it was not until the English navy appeared that the situation changed. It was the first time Woolfheard had seen such a large ship, and when the noble purple battleship approached at high speed, she almost thought it was a sea monster.

Count Otto sent her to the flagship of the English, and then greeted the knight of Edwin, whom he had once met.

"God bless you, my lord." The knight of Edwin politely replied, and then looked at Woolfhilde to the side, and the girl blushed at the handsome knight's gaze.

"This is Miss Woolfhilde, eldest daughter and heir of the Duke of Saxony." The Count made a formal introduction.

"It is my pleasure to serve you."

"Hmm......" The Saxon girl did not say a word for a long time, but Edwin, thinking that she could not understand her own language, began to order her maids and servants to be carried into the cabin.

Entering the luxurious cabin, still ashamed of her performance, Woolfheard kicked in some annoyance, and "Lubino" let out a wail and shrank under the velvet cushion.

On deck, Count Otto had already begun to communicate with Knight Edwin, the eldest son of Count Mercia.

"You're really fast." The Count breathed a sigh of relief, since Madame Matilda had not been eliminated, there was still hope for everything.

"Until the College of Cardinals elects the next pope, we should not take it lightly." The Knight of Mercia replied cautiously.

"Now that we've sent the man you want, when does the king plan to make good on his promise?"

"After the wedding." Edwin replied briefly.