"Your Majesty."
Willow quietly reminded Sophia at her side.
"It's time to drink some juice. This is the vitamin juice Miss Irene extracted."
Sophia took the glass cup beside her; the crystal-clear juice inside had already been chilled, looking quite delicious.
The afternoon sunlight gradually slanted westward, its soft afterglow passing through the tall glass windows and drawing long shadows of light across the mottled stone-brick floor.
Behind the long desk, Sophia had just finished rubbing her faintly aching temples, and before she could even lean back against the white-fox-fur soft chair to close her eyes and rest a while longer—
the guard's announcement once again came from outside the door—the City Lord of Leighton, Liliana, requested an audience.
Hearing this name, Sophia's eyes moved ever so slightly.
Liliana had only just handed over the state seal of Leighton not long ago; nominally she was already one of the important core ministers under Black Rose's rule.
For such a weighty, newly-appointed City Lord to openly and properly request an audience in broad daylight, Sophia naturally couldn't find any excuse to lazily refuse.
The silver-haired girl could only let out a faint sigh, putting away the muttered thought of going to eat a piece of caramel Pudding and resting, and coldly parted her lips:
"Let her in."
In but a moment, accompanied by a series of extremely elegant yet distinctively aggressive light footsteps, that head of ink-black long hair came into everyone's view.
Liliana stepped over the threshold, and at a glance she saw that within the Hall of State Affairs, besides Your Majesty the Queen on the throne, on the soft chairs to one side sat the Third Princess Victoria, leisurely waving an ivory folding fan, as well as the Administrative Officer Willow, holding a warm teacup with a serene expression.
Faced with this scene that nearly gathered the headquarters' core brain trust in one net, this former wolf of the far west didn't so much as flutter an eyelid; not even a ripple of surprise stirred across her entire charming, exquisite face.
She merely walked forward unhurriedly and bowed extremely elegantly to Sophia:
"Greetings, Your Majesty the Queen."
"Be seated."
Sophia slightly raised her hand, pointing to the clean soft chair already prepared at the side.
Liliana voiced her thanks and sat down as a matter of course.
She slightly turned her head, nodding politely and gracefully to Victoria and Willow at the side, then turned her gaze back, fixing it intently on the silver-haired girl upon the throne.
Her arrival this afternoon clearly marked her as an impatient sort with no intention of beating around the bush; the moment she settled into her seat she got straight to the point and threw out the core purpose of her visit:
"Your Majesty, the submission of the two kingdoms of Ross and Orson this afternoon has indeed linked the entire Northern border's defensive line into one.
But Your Majesty should also know that it's only a matter of these few days before the news reaches the Imperial Capital.
Once some considerable commotion arises in the Imperial Capital over the upheaval in these two kingdoms, or that old emperor finally can't hold back and musters heavy troops, our border situation may well undergo a tremendous reversal in a short time."
As Liliana spoke, she extended her slender fingertip, lightly tracing through the air with a thoughtful air:
"When that time comes, those few cities closer to the south, having no strategic terrain to rely on, will inevitably bear the brunt and be the first reached by the flames of war.
If we don't make plans early now, and wait until the south's iron torrent presses upon our entire border, the common folk and granaries of those places will instantly fall into an extremely passive and perilous situation. For this, I wonder if Your Majesty has any good strategy?"
Listening to Liliana's far-sighted strategic analysis, behind the long desk Sophia's face still wore that immovable, cold, deadpan expression.
Her lifeless pale-golden eyes quietly watched this somewhat overly enthusiastic black-haired City Lord below, while in her heart she languidly flipped open a lazy little ledger of her own.
Though she harbored ten thousand thoughts of just slacking off on the spot, given the needs of the current situation, Sophia ultimately, somewhat reluctantly, shifted into a more comfortable position, propping her chin with one hand, and replied indifferently in that cold voice devoid of the slightest worldly emotion:
"Oh? From your certain tone, do you already have some fully-formed proposal in mind?"
Hearing Your Majesty the Queen's cold counter-question, the beautiful eyes of Liliana, seated below, instantly lit up.
She couldn't help leaning her aristocratic frame slightly forward, an utterly enchanting yet somewhat determined-to-win smile blooming across her fair, pretty face, her tone even lifting a bit:
"As expected of Your Majesty—so clever and quick-witted. Liliana's trifling little scheme indeed couldn't escape Your Majesty's wise discernment."
After landing a flattery without a trace, Liliana lowered her voice somewhat, and with the shrewdness and ruthlessness distinctive of her merchant origins, slowly revealed her plan to Sophia:
"Since those few southern fringe cities are destined to be hard to hold for long, I propose that, starting tomorrow morning, we quietly spread word.
We secretly transfer all the livestock cattle and sheep, the warhorses and furs, as well as the most precious and least portable dried mountain goods and supplies from those southern cities over here to Yurilland."
"Yurilland's terrain is strategically formidable, easy to defend and hard to attack, and well-connected in all directions—most suited to serve as the rear of the rear.
As long as we concentrate all the border's rich assets here at Yurilland, and have Grand Commander Bardess dispatch elite troops to reinforce the city gates and thicken the walls overnight there, building more archery towers and beacon towers...
This way, we can not only thoroughly secure the Northern border's foundation for getting through winter, but also raise there an iron defensive line that will utterly despair the southern army.
What does Your Majesty think?"
Liliana's highly strategic relocation proposal slowly came to rest in the silent Council Hall.
To one side, Victoria's fingers waving the ivory folding fan paused ever so lightly, a genuine approval quietly flashing through her golden eyes.
She had to admit that, although this wolf of the far west usually acted somewhat roguish and unreliable, when it came to grand strategic matters like fortifying the defenses and clearing the fields, her eye was indeed vicious-sharp.
However, in the eyes of the two City Lords and the Administrative Officer, this far-sighted Your Majesty Sophia—who was weighing the great trends of the world over and over—upon hearing the words about transporting all the cattle, sheep, and precious mountain goods to Yurilland, let a most comfortable salted-fish gleam leak, extremely covertly, into those pale-golden dead-fish eyes.
Wait a moment—what did Liliana just say?
Concentrate and transport all the beef and mutton, precious medicinal herbs, and dried mountain goods from those southern cities—the ones that need troops patrolling every day and are an absolute pain—to Yurilland, the city closest to This Queen's Temporary Palace and the safest of all?
And on top of that, build the walls there sky-high and reinforce the gates tight, so that not even a wisp of wind from the outside enemy could blow in?
This—this is clearly delivering the most delicious, most abundant winter provisions of the entire Northern border right to This Queen's safest, most worry-free doorstep!
If this plan really succeeds, then this winter, even if This Queen lies in the fox-fur grand couch in the Bedchamber every day, she could drink the freshest, most delicious meat broth and steaming mushroom Hot Pot anytime, and wouldn't have to worry in the least about the southern flames of war disturbing This Queen's wake-up-naturally sleep schedule!
This is no defensive relocation—this is clearly the heavens opening their eyes, delivering hibernation benefits entirely to This Queen!!
At this thought, the salted-fish Queen's little heart—which had been somewhat irritated these past days over the rations for two hundred thousand refugees—was, in this instant, most thoroughly soothed.
She slightly lowered her long lashes, her porcelain-fair deadpan face still maintaining an unfathomable coldness, then extremely elegantly lowered the knuckles propping her chin and, in a steady, ethereal voice without the slightest ripple, delivered the final verdict from atop the throne:
"This idea of yours isn't too stupid, after all.
Since you've raised it, then This Queen shall entrust this matter to you and Willow to handle together.
Within half a month, This Queen wants to see results."
As Sophia's final verdict fell from beneath the throne, the entire Northern border's defensive line, like a colossal iron machine, instantly erupted with a shudder-inducing roar and began to thunderously operate.
With the order given, everyone swiftly began to move.
Those small cities originally stationed at the southern fringe had already been in a state of constant dread all day over the rumors that the southern old emperor might muster heavy troops.
The small cities' lords and common folk lost sleep night after night, terrified that one day the tide would turn and their crude wooden gates would be trampled flat by the southern Empire's iron torrent.
As it turned out, the supreme Black Rose decree from the Temporary Palace became their utter lifeline.
When they heard that Your Majesty not only allowed them to escort their households' old, weak, women, and children to safe inland cities ahead of time, but even dispatched elite soldiers to help them transport large quantities of hard-to-carry dried mountain goods and livestock cattle and sheep,
and even helped them reinforce the walls and build gates on the spot in preparation for wartime—these small cities' administrators and common folk were naturally a hundred times willing!
"The supreme Your Majesty truly leaves no plan wanting—she's calculated out our very path to survival in advance!"
The common folk of the fringe small cities joyfully packed their bundles and, with the help of the Black Rose army, migrated in a continuous stream toward the inland cities.
For a time, the roads were filled with mighty processions of carriages and refugees, yet without the slightest panic of imminent war—instead full of supreme gratitude toward the new Order.
And in this unprecedented fortify-and-clear plan, the most crucial element naturally couldn't do without the workshop's technical support.
To ensure the rear cities could build the most solid iron fortresses, a great batch of new-style machinery and defensive installations had to be personally guided on-site by the workshop's Chief Inventor.
And so, this time, Irene had to make a long journey out.
Although it was only to a relatively safe small city, Sophia naturally couldn't let her own precious Inventor take even the slightest risk.
Behind the long desk, the silver-haired girl slightly raised her eyes, her cold deadpan face without a ripple, and directly dispatched Grand Commander Bardess.
"Bardess, take three thousand Black Rose elite infantry and protect Irene closely the whole way.
If she loses so much as a single hair along the way, then upon returning you'll go to the main warehouse and reconcile three months of refugee accounts—understood?"
Hearing Sophia's unwavering voice, Bardess immediately turned solemn, her pleasant androgynous female voice ringing out resolutely in the great hall:
"As you command, Your Majesty!
This minister will surely keep the column in the most orderly array and never let Miss Irene suffer the slightest disturbance!"
And so, with several thousand soldiers, the procession prepared to set off under the bright afternoon sunlight.
Half an hour before departure, below the white-porcelain stone steps before the Temporary Palace's main gate, three thousand Mason elites clad in fine-iron padded armor and holding black muskets level had already arrayed into neat square formations.
Irene had changed into a light artisan's short skirt, her long pink twin ponytails swaying gently in the breeze, holding in her arms several scrolls of defensive-machinery blueprints wrapped in animal hide.
Surrounded by a host of core retainers, Sophia personally came to the front of the hall to see her off.
"Then I'm off, Your Majesty!
You'd better be a good girl and wait in the Bedchamber for me to return—no sneaking too much red-maple cake while I'm away!"
Irene gazed at the silver-haired girl before her, her big sapphire-like eyes brimming with the ardor and attachment of first-awakened love.
Sophia was just about to give her a sidelong glance with her pale-golden dead-fish eyes and reply with a cold retort, but before she could open her mouth—
"Swish!"
The pink-haired girl suddenly stuffed the blueprints in her hands into Bardess's arms beside her.
Before everyone's watching eyes, like a bouncing pink little rabbit, she pounced straight into Sophia's arms, her two hands brazenly clamping tight around Your Majesty the Queen's slender, soft waist.
Before those around could recover from this act so utterly improper for court etiquette, Irene rose onto her tiptoes and, her whole round, lovely little face flushed red, extremely loudly and boldly planted a sweet "smooch" of a kiss on Sophia's porcelain-fair cheek!
"Wait for me to come back, okay~ I like Your Majesty the most!"
Irene let go with a giggle, sticking out her tongue with a touch of smug delight.
Atop the long corridor, those seeing her off witnessed this scene crystal clear.
Third Princess Victoria covered most of her face tightly with her ivory folding fan, her golden eyes full of the merry glint of someone enjoying the spectacle and not minding the fuss in the least.
Administrative Officer Willow silently steadied the warm tea in her hand, her expression calm as water, only her fingertips pinching the white-porcelain cup ever so lightly.
Saint Daphne, on the other hand, flushed to the tips of her ears in an instant, not daring to so much as glance this way, her folded hands somewhat flustered as they clutched the hem of her skirt.
And at the very front, the red-haired senior general Delilah—at this very moment, her whole dashing face was as cold and stiff as a thoroughly weathered, frigid stone statue.
She just stood there expressionless, her dark-red eyes lifeless.
The red-haired general, who had listened all night long outside the Bedchamber door to the lovey-dovey sounds, now watching Irene's practiced and domineering straight-ball move, was utterly swept under by the slightly sour, earth-shaking tsunami within her heart.
Yet in broad daylight, she could only grimly maintain a commander's last shred of dignity, letting her whole body radiate a heavy, mournful resentment that nearly seemed to freeze the very sunlight.
"Al—alright! Whole army, move out!!"
Having taken a colossal advantage, Irene, her little face red, turned and dashed energetically toward Bardess.
Bardess was at that moment fumbling to catch the animal-hide blueprints Irene had just stuffed at her; seeing the pink-haired girl finally run back, this Grand Commander with mild obsessive-compulsive disorder hurriedly patted the blueprints in her arms perfectly snug.
Then she swung onto her horse, drew the standard-issue longsword at her waist, and in that crisp, forceful androgynous female voice shouted out sternly:
"Whole army, heed the order! Maintain single-file column—toward Yurilland, march!!"
"Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp—!!"
Three thousand Mason elites stepped out in perfectly uniform strides, treading the road of intermingled marble and earth, kicking up a slight dust and emitting bursts of blood-stirring, muffled rumbling.
Irene walked at the front of the procession, sitting on the edge of the steady carriage, unable to help turning back again and again to gaze at that gradually shrinking silver-haired figure atop the Temporary Palace's stone steps.
The early-autumn wind howled in from the northern plains, blowing the Black Rose banners above the Temporary Palace into snapping flaps.
Carrying Your Majesty's one-and-only warm kiss mark, the pink-haired Inventor clenched her little fists on the bumpy carriage, her big sapphire eyes full of the frenzied drive to build the rear fortress impregnable even at the cost of her life.
And behind her, Bardess, riding her tall steed, marched along while her OCD flared up and she shouted at the black-musket formation beside her:
"Third one on the left! Shift your gun-stock in another inch!
The formation's crooked! Did you hear me—crooked by an inch!!"
After three days and two nights of forced marching through the starry nights, the marching procession finally passed through a vast stretch of desolate red-maple forest and arrived at a small city on the westernmost fringe—the small city of Severn.
Compared with the prosperous, stable central fortress, this border small city that had just been incorporated into Mason's territory looked exceptionally dilapidated.
The cold early-autumn wind swept by, kicking up gusts of sand and dust over the low, cracked earthen-stone walls; the city gate was even barely lashed together from a few rough, inferior logs, looking as if it would topple at any moment.
The whole city held merely a few thousand people, all impoverished commoners with haggard faces and ragged clothes.
"Whole army, heed the order—encamp on the spot!
Line up the horses and supply carts in a straight line—don't block the city's main thoroughfare!"
No matter how decrepit the city gate before her, Grand Commander Bardess still reined in her horse and called out with the utmost rigor, her pleasant androgynous female voice carrying far across the desolate wilderness.
Her mild OCD flared again upon seeing the slightly crooked defensive cheval-de-frise at one side of the gate, and she couldn't help dismounting to personally move those wooden stakes into perfect order.
The few thousand panic-stricken subjects within the small city of Severn, hearing the earth-shaking hoofbeats and orderly footsteps outside, all clung tremblingly to their worn window-sills to peer out.
When they saw clearly that the arrivals were not those brutal pillaging private soldiers of the old nobles, but rather an entire squad of Black Rose elites clad in fine-iron padded armor, their ranks as orderly as divine soldiers descending to earth,
and even several hundred ox-carts loaded full with long timber, stone, and grain—the entire deathly-silent small city instantly boiled over!
These poor wretches who had struggled for half their lives on the edge of sandstorms and the flames of war flooded out, mouths agape, somewhat unable to believe it.
When they confirmed that the army before them truly flew the Black Rose banner, and had come specially to help them defend the city and repair their homes, countless people's knees went weak and, deeply moved, they knelt on the spot upon the rough sand, tears streaming down their faces.
"O merciful Black Rose Queen, you truly haven't forgotten us poor wretches in the sand and wind..."
The eldest, most senior old man in the city, leaning on a withered-wood cane, wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, his cloudy eyes full of hope.
"Praise Your Majesty Sophia!
By the gods above, those wolves of the southern Empire haven't even attacked yet, and Your Majesty's protection has already arrived first!"
A haggard-faced woman held the child in her arms tightly, weeping with joy.
"Those traveling merchants from outside all said Mason's army only guards the wealthy central territories, yet Your Majesty is willing to favor even a small city like our Severn!"
A young hunter gripped the longbow in his hand, his expression stirred.
"Having lived most of my life, this is the first time I've seen a supreme sovereign who would, for the safety of a few thousand commoners, specially dispatch such a mighty army and such wise artisans..."
"I knew it—the Black Rose Your Majesty the Queen is a divine immortal from the heavens; she truly hasn't abandoned us!!"
A timid little girl, tugging at her mother's hem, lifted her little face, her voice crisp and fervent.
Hoarse cry after cry, soaked through with boundless sincerity, the praises rang out into one before the dilapidated city gate; the subjects' fervent worship of Sophia's flawlessly-scheming, supremely-merciful divinity reached an unprecedented peak in this moment.
Sitting on the edge of the first carriage, Irene watched these thousands of subjects before her weeping with joy and taking Your Majesty as their sole faith, and her big sapphire-like eyes instantly brimmed with pride and heartfelt delight.
Hmph hmph, although This Inventor's deadpan Your Majesty says she finds things troublesome and only wants to be a salted fish on the white-fox-fur chair all day, the things she does behind the scenes always manage to keep everyone fed and warm.
At the thought of how, under the covers in the Bedchamber last night, Your Majesty's slightly cool fingers had tenderly caressed her cheek, Irene's little tail was practically about to wag smugly up to the heavens.
The pink-haired girl nimbly hopped off the carriage, her long twin ponytails swaying merrily with her movements, the lace on her skirt's hem fluttering in the sand and wind.
She put her hands on her hips, gave a "heh-heh" grin to the laughing-and-crying subjects of the small city of Severn before her, and in that highly penetrating, crisp and resounding loud voice proudly declared:
"Everyone, stop crying already!
This Chief Inventor came all this long way with the army this time precisely so that you'll never again suffer any hardship from the flames of war!"
Irene patted, with a touch of pride, the defensive blueprints wrapped perfectly snug in animal hide in her arms, a blazing drive igniting in her big sapphire eyes:
"Next, I'll personally arrange and direct the soldiers to help you build the most solid stone walls here!
Not only that, This Lady is also going to dig several defensive secret tunnels leading straight to the inland beneath the city!
I guarantee that when those southern bad guys attack, they won't get their hands on even a single strand of our cattle's or sheep's wool, and everyone will get to eat steaming Hot Pot along with This Inventor!!"
"Yes! Long live Black Rose! Long live Your Majesty!"
"Our original King—ah, no... City Lord—turning to Mason was truly a reliable idea."
"Thank you, Your Majesty Sophia! Thank you, Miss Inventor!"
"What is Hot Pot? A pot that catches fire?"
"Can you eat that? It must be some kind of name for noble food."
"Your Majesty is so kind—does she even have Miss Inventor bring us the food that nobles eat?"
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