Hearing the mountain-toppling, sea-overturning cheers before the city gate, along with the almost fanatical paeans to Her Majesty, Grand Commander Bardess curled the corner of her mouth ever so slightly, and a flicker of approval flashed through that pair of bright, clear eyes.
However, this Mason Commander, who had always suffered from a mild case of obsessive-compulsive disorder, quickly composed her expression. With supreme efficiency she turned around and made a gesture to the supply convoy behind her.
To soothe these subjects who had been terrorized by the ravages of war, the first step was always to fill their bellies.
At Bardess's command, the soldiers neatly threw back the coarse hemp cloth covering the several hundred supply wagons.
Cartload after cartload of solid Black Bread—stacked in perfect order and cut with the utmost regularity—along with sack after sack of plump, full beans, were suddenly laid bare before the eyes of every subject of Severn.
Several great bronze marching cauldrons were soon propped up on the open ground. Roaring bonfires were lit, and the workshop's specially made bellows huffed and puffed away, coaxing the flames into a furious blaze.
In no time at all, the rich broth began to roll with the tantalizing aroma of fat and large beans. The thick stewed beans bubbled and steamed in the pots, and that nose-filling salty fragrance brought the entire dead-silent little city back to life in an instant.
"Everyone line up! There's enough for everyone, don't shove, the line has to be perfectly straight!"
Bardess directed loudly while, in a fit of her obsessive-compulsive disorder, nudging several crooked wooden bowls until they were aligned flush against one another.
When the subjects, with trembling hands, received that heavy, wheat-scented hunk of Black Bread and a whole bowl of piping-hot stewed beans glistening with oil, many of them could not even spare the time to wipe away their tears before gulping it down in big, eager mouthfuls.
They could no longer remember how many months it had been since they had last tasted salt and oil. In this early-autumn cold wind, this bowl of hot soup not only warmed their hands, but utterly soothed their fearful, uneasy hearts.
"Long live merciful Your Majesty Sophia! Long live the Black Rose!"
Before the city gate, for a moment there was nothing but the muddled yet utterly sincere cheering of the subjects.
Once everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, the reconstruction plan for the little city swiftly and thunderously got underway under Irene's command.
"Commander Bardess, look at this earthen wall, the cracks are nearly wide enough to stuff a hammer into—it absolutely must be torn down completely and rebuilt!"
Irene dug the blueprints out from her fur-lined bedding, her fair little fingers pointing at the tottering city defenses, both sapphire-blue eyes sparkling with nothing but drive.
Bardess looked at that crooked, lopsided city wall with some distaste; that ultra-faint touch of obsessive-compulsive disorder made it utterly unbearable for her, not even for a single moment.
She immediately drew the standard-issue longsword at her waist and shouted aloud:
"Black Rose, heed my command! Clear away all this irregular, rotten stone and rotten earth! Go to the foot of the mountains outside the city and quarry stone. Every single city brick must be stacked in perfect order—not one is permitted the slightest crookedness!"
Though the wilderness surrounding the small city of Severn was barren, lacking any rich veins from which gold or silver could be dug, it just so happened that the hills and fields were everywhere covered with hard granite and bluestone, weathered and cracked by the wind.
Hearing that it was to protect the safety of their own homes that they were to haul stone, how could the several thousand subjects who had just received Her Majesty's grace possibly sit still?
In an instant, men and women, young and old, all threw themselves into the work, and the hills and fields were everywhere filled with bustling, fervent figures of labor.
Some able-bodied men shouldered an entire enormous square-cut block of bluestone alone, treading heavy steps that left strings of footprints in the sandy soil.
Others were teams of several women who bound the irregularly shaped, sharp rocks with thick hemp rope, chanting work calls in unison, dragging them with concerted effort toward the city gate.
Even some white-haired elders used worn old bamboo baskets to carry back load after load of crushed gravel to fill the gaps.
The entire outer perimeter of the small city of Severn was like a magnificent, sweeping scroll painting of Black Rose tilling and building.
"Aiya! Careful!!"
Suddenly, a cry of alarm came from a steep slope at the foot of the mountain.
A frail young Severn subject, in his over-eagerness, had tried single-handedly to haul a jagged boulder fully half the size of a small cart.
The stone's shape was extremely irregular, bristling with sharp edges and corners. The instant he gritted his teeth and straightened his back, the sandy soil beneath his feet suddenly gave way. He lost his balance entirely, and man and stone went tumbling down the slope together!
If that gigantic bluestone, weighing several hundred catties, came crashing straight down, it would surely snap a few of this fragile subject's bones on the spot.
The several women nearby went pale with fright and could not help shrieking out loud.
And at this hair's-breadth moment of mortal danger—
"Shing—!"
An icy, crisp clash of armor instantly tore through the void.
A Black Rose soldier-girl who had been on patrol and sentry duty nearby suddenly stamped her foot down hard, the fine-iron chainmail on her body letting out an extremely crisp ringing sound.
Her vigorous, tall, and lithe figure, like an agile Red Maple Leopard, closed the entire distance within a ten-thousandth of a second.
Without the slightest superfluous hesitation, the soldier big-sister thrust out one fair arm sheathed in a fine-steel vambrace, propping it into the air with utter precision and domineering force—and with a single hand she steadily caught that enormous bluestone tumbling out of control!
"Up."
The soldier-girl's expression was placid; with merely a low grunt, the muscles of her arm tensed ever so slightly.
Under that mighty strength forged from the high-intensity daily drilling of the main headquarters, that heavy bluestone, which had left several men helpless, was casually flipped over and onto the level ground by her in a single motion, letting out a dull, booming rumble.
Then the soldier big-sister extended a hand and, with the greatest ease, hauled the dumbstruck young subject up off the ground. Brushing the dust from his body in passing, she admonished him in that bright, valiant voice of hers:
"Hauling stone has to be done by the rules too—you can't have the formation falling apart. Go, find a few people to carry it together, and don't go getting hurt again with all that careless fumbling."
At the bottom of the slope, several little girls of the small city of Severn who were clutching small bits of gravel were at that moment watching this scene without blinking, their clear eyes all alight with fanatical, worshipful starlight.
One of the little girls, her hair tied up in a topknot, looked rather incredulously at her own slender little hands and skinny arms.
Then she looked again at that dashing soldier-girl, who had now leveled her black musket flat and turned to resume her orderly patrol. The little girl couldn't help tugging at her mother's patched hem, her small voice full of an unshakable yearning:
"Mother, did you see that... We're all girls just the same, so why are those soldier big-sisters strong enough to fling a great stone all by themselves?"
The mother gently stroked her head, her own eyes full of the pride that belonged to the new Order:
"Because they are the iron-wall guards most trusted by the great Your Majesty Sophia. They've eaten Her Majesty's grain, so naturally they possess the divine strength bestowed by the gods."
Hearing this, the little girl clenched her tiny fists hard, lifted up her rosy little face, and declared with utter resolve:
"When I grow up, I absolutely will not weave cloth at home! I too will put on that gleaming fine-iron padded armor and become a soldier of the Black Rose, to protect our great Queen for my whole life!!"
Irene, sitting on the edge of a wagon not far off, had naturally also seen those few little girls with adoration written all over their faces.
The pink-haired girl lightly pursed her still somewhat swollen and feverish moist lips, and a carefree, radiant smile spread across her face.
Wearing a pair of light shoes, she walked over briskly, the long pink twin-tails atop her head swaying with each step. Her crisp, loud voice promptly cut off the few little ones' whispering:
"Hee hee, little ones, what's there to be so envious about? As long as you obediently listen to Her Majesty from now on and eat your fill on time, then when you grow up and go to Mason's army camp and train properly for a bit, every one of you will be able to be just as impressive as these guard big-sisters!"
Hearing the voice, the few little girls clutching gravel all turned their heads. When they got a clear look and saw that this beautiful big-sister before them—dressed in a lovely pink dress and looking just like a porcelain doll—was none other than the Chief Inventor who had just declared she would help them repair the city wall, the eyes of the little ones instantly lit up.
The little girl with the topknot tilted her head, looking with some curiosity at Irene's two fair, slender little arms without an ounce of excess flesh, and asked aloud, timidly yet brimming with a thirst for knowledge:
"Wah! Really? Then... then can you, milady Inventor, also do it like the big-sister?"
"Hmph hmph, but of course!"
Hearing this, Irene lifted that round little face of hers rather smugly.
Though on ordinary days she fancied herself a top-tier artisan who worked with her brain, she was, after all, the core of cores who spent days and nights tinkering with assembly lines in the workshop, dealing daily with crate after crate of heavy fine-iron armor, rivets, and hammers—so the strength in her hands was by no means to be reckoned small!
In order to fully maintain her dignity as the Chief Inventor before these future little Black Rose recruits, Irene clasped her two little hands behind her back and strode carelessly over to a chunk of granite bluestone beside her, fully several dozen catties in weight and shaped like a great millstone.
She bent her slender waist slightly, deftly hooked both hands under it, and let a brisk sound escape her throat:
"Up—!!"
"Hwoom!"
That heavy bluestone was actually hoisted up steadily and embraced in one go by her, the somewhat loose hem of her dress fluttering faintly in the wind and sand.
Irene effortlessly carried the great stone and spun in a circle on the spot, then neatly tossed it onto the ground, the heavy impact instantly kicking up a cloud of dust.
This scene, just as expected, once again drew bursts of "wah, wah" cries of astonishment from the several little girls around her, every one of them looking at her with eyes as if gazing at some legendary fairy of mighty strength.
Watching the clear, fanatically worshipful starlight in the little ones' eyes, the haughty, smug smile at the corner of Irene's mouth was almost about to overflow.
She reached out and patted the stone dust off her palms, chuckling "hee hee" and, with a touch of little pride, continued to enlighten them on the lofty divine pantheon of Mason's headquarters:
"This is nothing at all! This little bit of strength of mine isn't even worth a glance compared to those First Generals at Her Majesty's side! Take General Delilah, who stood guard outside the Temporary Palace last night—that head of red hair of hers is like fire. If you let her hoist that great ruby greatsword of hers, one swing could hack stones of several hundred, even up to a thousand-some catties, into powder all over the ground, without so much as blinking an eye!"
"One swing to shatter a stone of several hundred catties!!"
The few little girls listened with their little mouths gaping wide, nearly drooling.
The topknot girl couldn't help shuffling a step forward, tugging at her hem, and pressed on even more fanatically:
"Then... then what about our great Your Majesty Sophia? Her Majesty is a celestial deity from heaven—is Her Majesty even more impressive than the General?"
"Her Majesty?"
Hearing these two words, Irene's heart once again trembled hard, beyond her control, and within almost a single second, the absurd commotion from inside the bedding last night surfaced quite naturally again in her mind.
Although Her Majesty looked terribly slender, the force of those long, slim fingers had last night gripped her so tightly she hadn't the slightest strength left to flee...
A most charming blush swept neatly across the pink-haired girl's cheeks once more. She gave a brisk wave of her little hand and, with the utmost certainty, carelessly proclaimed the divine pronouncement most befitting the expectations of the assembled subjects below:
"Her Majesty is naturally omnipotent! Forget a few dozen catties—if Her Majesty were willing, she could casually extend a single little hand and effortlessly lift a giant stone weighing several hundred catties! In our Mason, Her Majesty is the supreme existence above all!!"
The little girls instantly let out a wave of unprecedented, extremely high-pitched "wah, wah" shrieks. For a moment, their adoration for that never-before-seen silver-haired Queen nearly burst through the tattered sky of the small city of Severn.
However, just as Irene was preparing to keep deifying her own poker-faced Majesty, that topknot little girl, with an innocent naivete, asked yet another extremely fatal question:
"If Her Majesty is so impressive... then, then what about the future Queen? Can the Queen big-sister also lift such a big stone?"
"Qu—Queen?!"
These two words were like the immensely powerful fuse of Black powder, abruptly detonating with a roar right beside Irene's ear.
The pink-haired girl jolted all over as if she had stepped on a red-hot iron armor plate. Her hitherto fairly composed expression became, in an instant, extremely awkward and bashful.
The moment she thought of how she had wrapped her arms around Her Majesty's waist and loudly cried out all those confessions about wanting to monopolize Her Majesty, about the most intimate love between two girls—and how in the end Her Majesty had leaned in of her own accord and kissed her until she was dizzy and dazed, with that doting look...
Under the blank gazes of the few little ones, this Chief Inventor, who only moments ago had been so cocky and full of swagger, had her pretty little face flush at a visibly rapid speed, instantly reddening from her cheeks all the way to the deepest part of her ear roots!
Even the lingering numb, sore, weak sensation on her thighs and slender waist seemed to revive in full along with it.
"Wh—where would there be any Queen Consort right now! Her Majesty has never enthroned anyone at all!"
Irene stammered, wringing her own fingers, even the pair of pink twin-tails atop her head trembling lightly in a fluster. Reddening, she turned her head away, her voice as small as a mosquito's whine, yet carrying a thread of baffling little haughtiness:
"But... but as for what happens in the future, who—who can say for sure! In any case, under the banner of the Black Rose, it's not yet certain at all who'll be sitting in that seat, hmph..."
The few little girls of the small city of Severn looked at one another, utterly unable to understand how this milady Inventor, who had just been so awe-inspiringly mighty, had turned as bashful as the little brides in those vulgar romance poetry collections the moment the Queen was mentioned.
Fortunately, just as Irene was so embarrassed she wished she could flee on the spot, not far off, Grand Commander Bardess's tall, straight figure was standing at the edge of a freshly toppled earthen wall.
This Mason Commander, who had a mild case of obsessive-compulsive disorder, looked at the first batch of stone the soldiers below had hauled back and scratched her hair in some discomfort.
She spotted, from afar, that Irene was still crouching at the foot of the mountain chatting with a few children, and at once let loose that exceedingly crisp, pleasant, neutral feminine voice, shouting aloud:
"Miss Irene!! Hurry over and take a look at the planning blueprints over here! This first batch of bluestone hauled back—how come some are big and some small? Not the least bit uniform! And that defensive secret passage entrance you spoke of yesterday—the lines look like they've been drawn off by a whole inch!!"
"Ah! Coming, coming!!"
Hearing Bardess's call, Irene was as though granted a pardon, and hurriedly dragged her thoughts back entirely out of her extreme mortification.
She gave her scorching cheeks a careless rub and waved her hand with a smile at the few little ones before her:
"Alright, little ones, hurry off and help your parents carry some small gravel! This Inventor has serious business to attend to!!"
With that, the pink-haired girl turned around with a wiggle and, while somewhat awkwardly rubbing her faintly sore side waist, hurried off briskly and bustlingly toward Bardess and the city wall defense line.
Irene reached up and carelessly rubbed that little face of hers, red enough to nearly steam, all the while muttering inwardly about her own cold-as-ice yet wicked-to-the-bone, poker-faced Majesty, while striding with somewhat stiff, hobbling steps and hurrying off bustlingly toward the collapsed earthen wall.
The instant she entered her artisan's state, this Chief Inventor of the Black Rose would, in the blink of an eye, bring out a first-rate focus and efficiency.
"Coming, coming! Commander Bardess, it's the middle of the day—that voice of yours is even louder than a freshly forged musket bursting its barrel in the workshop!"
Irene's crisp voice had not yet faded before she had already slipped her whole self over to the side of that toppled old city wall ruin.
At that moment, the tall, straight Grand Commander Bardess was leaning on her longsword, her head of crisp short hair somewhat tousled in the wind and sand.
On that healthy, wheat-colored little face of hers, her brows were knit tight as she stared in some agony at a great heap of bluestone material on the ground, just hauled over by the combined efforts of subjects and soldiers.
"Miss Irene, you've finally come over!"
The moment Bardess caught sight of Irene, she scratched her hair with some helplessness.
Her neutral, pleasant feminine voice was at this moment brimming with the exasperation belonging to a rigid Commander. She extended one slender finger covered in calluses, pointing at that jagged, uneven heap of stones on the ground, and complained:
"Just look at these stone materials from the small city of Severn! Some are round as a cartwheel, others are all sharp corners like split firewood—the width, height, none of it has the slightest bit of regularity. And this so-called secret passage entrance..."
As Bardess spoke, she scraped at the ground with the tip of her longsword in some discomfort, pointing at a defense line the soldiers had marked out with white lime, a thread of incredulous tremor in her voice:
"This crowd of Severn laborers, when they were digging the tunnel mouth, actually deviated a whole inch from what you drew on the blueprint yesterday! A whole inch! If we just pile the city bricks straight up on top of this, the load-bearing points of the entire defensive wall will be completely irregular. My heart feels just like it's being pounded by a rusty forging hammer—unbearably awful!"
Watching Bardess's ultra-faint obsessive-compulsive disorder begin to flare up madly again in the face of irregular stone material, Irene couldn't help bursting out laughing with a "pfft."
The pink-haired girl innocently scratched her disheveled twin-tails, set both little hands properly upon her knees, bent down, and let her pair of sapphire-like big eyes sweep back and forth over those bluestone ruins, large and small, odd-shaped and strange.
She extended a fair finger and tapped lightly on a chunk of cornered bluestone, drawing a crisp "clang clang" sound, and the hardcore architectural thinking belonging to a transmigrator instantly linked and interwove in her mind like a surging tide.
"Alright, Commander Bardess, set your heart at ease! The present small city of Severn can hardly compare to the main headquarters of our Royal City. To be able to dig out this many pieces of hard granite and bluestone in this barren wilderness—the subjects here have already used up every last bit of strength they had stashed away."
Irene patted the dust from her palms and straightened her back, her sparkling eyes full of the wisdom and confidence of a Chief Inventor.
She lifted her round, pretty little face slightly, looked over this bustling, fervent, desolate worksite, and analyzed crisply:
"The situation right now is so urgent. The old Emperor in the south could marshal heavy troops to march north at any moment. There's simply no way we have the time to transport those perfectly cut standard city bricks from Yurilland or the central fortress. How much manpower and resources would that consume? Delay just a few days on the road, and I'm afraid the fires of war would be burning right up to the city gate. So today we have to source our materials on the spot and battle it out to the bitter end with this heap of disobedient stone!"
Bardess was slightly taken aback and raised her dashing brows in some confusion:
"Source materials on the spot? But these stones are all different heights and shapes. If we use them straight to pile up a wall, even bonding them with traditional mud mortar and glutinous-rice juice, before long they'll still crack apart completely because the gaps are too wide. By then, one light ram from the enemy's battering ram and our city defenses would declare bankruptcy on the spot."
"Hee hee, who said this Inventor was going to use that antique mud mortar?"
Irene gave a rather smug little "hmph hmph."
She turned around, pulled a roll of fresh new parchment from the fur pack on the wagon, and spread it open with a rustle on a huge stone block. Her fair little finger pointed to a series of ratio diagrams on it, composed of wrought-iron powder, limestone, and a strange volcanic ash, as she carelessly proclaimed:
"In these several hundred supply wagons we hauled all this way, besides the Black Bread and beans, they're also fully loaded with the high-tech inventions this lady secretly developed in the Royal City workshop—what this Inventor always calls the Cement that, once it dries, becomes harder than an iron plate! When we reinforced the city wall and ground of our Royal City before, this was exactly what we used. Didn't expect it, did you? I brought this along too!"
As the pink-haired girl spoke, she excitedly gestured out a whole new set of procedures:
"Bardess, look! These especially large jagged boulders, fully several hundred catties in weight—we don't need to laboriously grind them down at all. Just send the strong soldiers and subjects to haul them all over, stuff them into the deepest trench at the very bottom, and use them as the most solid foundation of the city wall!"
"And as for those gravel chunks and sharp-cornered stones, large and small, jagged and uneven—none of it goes to waste. Dump them all into the huge iron troughs, mix them with this lady's specially made volcanic-ash binding slurry, add sand and creek water, and stir it all into a thick stone paste. Use the large bluestone blocks to build the inner and outer two-layer shell, and just pour this slurry mixed with small stones into the gap in the middle to fill it up completely!"
Irene's sapphire eyes glittered with flowing radiance as she swung her two little fists hard through the air:
"Once this stuff dries and hardens completely, the entire city wall will fuse into one with the surrounding mountains! By then, forget battering rams—even if the southern Empire's most fearsome heavy-armored cavalry slam into it with their shields, all they'll manage to do is smash all of their own teeth to bits! This is called making the fullest use of every material—not a single scrap of gravel or rubble wasted!"
Having heard out this earth-shattering yet exceedingly methodical high-tech construction approach of Irene's, Grand Commander Bardess instantly froze on the spot, as though struck by an immobilization spell.
This mighty Commander, who had always only known how to drill defense according to Mason's regular military codes, stared without blinking at the grand plan on the parchment, and within her heart there had already irrepressibly surged up wave upon ever-mounting wave of deifying worship and frantic shrieking.
That Miss Irene could tinker with Black powder and assembly lines crystal-clear in the workshop was one thing. But how was it that even arriving in this destitute, godforsaken frontier of the small city of Severn, facing a heap of utterly unruly rotten stones, she could in the span of mere minutes calculate out from start to finish such a supreme city-building method, turning decay into magic?!
No, this absolutely could not be the wisdom of Miss Irene alone. Every step of this procedure, every kind of strange volcanic-ash binding slurry, was in all likelihood a grand blueprint of supreme new Order that our Your Majesty Sophia, while poring over the military archives and the topographical maps of the Northern border in the dead of night, had long since planned out to the full with Miss Irene under the covers in the Bedchamber!
Her Majesty had calculated every potential shortage of supplies down to the last flush detail, and that was exactly why she had Irene, first thing in the morning, gather up her skirts and rush to the frontier, traveling day and night with these several hundred wagons of specially made volcanic ash!
Brilliant—truly far too brilliant!!
Thinking of this, Bardess's worship of Sophia's all-encompassing, infallibly-strategic divinity was once more cranked to its absolute fullest.
She slapped her thigh somewhat dazedly, her neutral feminine voice brimming with matter-of-fact heartiness and absolute trust as she excitedly chimed in aloud:
"Good!! Miss Irene, truly worthy of being Her Majesty's most trusted Chief Inventor! This method sounds regular to the absolute extreme! Since you and Her Majesty planned it long ago, then what are we waiting for? Decision made—let's do it!!"
"Whoo-whoo!! Let's do it, let's do it!!"
As the two core backbones reached this complete consensus, the worksite of the entire small city of Severn instantly erupted into a roar of labor even more fervent, even more exhilarated than eating Hot Pot at high noon!
"Black Rose First and Second Foot-Soldier Phalanxes, heed the command in full!!"
Bardess vaulted onto her horse, raised high the snow-white standard-issue longsword in her hand, and pronounced loudly to the three thousand elite standing ramrod-straight in the sunlight:
"Set down your crossbows and muskets, and switch entirely to iron spades and wooden shovels! Go in teams of ten, assist the Severn laborers, and according to the rule of a single horizontal line, carry all those large jagged bluestones on the ground down into the deepest trench of the defense line to ram the foundation solid! Anyone who falls out of step or moves crooked gets half a bowl docked from tonight's stewed beans!!"
"Roar—!! Sworn loyalty to the death to Her Majesty! Obey the Grand Commander's military order!!"
Three thousand iron-armored Mason warriors let out thunderous roars, their fighting spirit soaring to the heavens.
With the utmost efficiency they stacked their weapons neatly to one side of the supply wagons, then rolled up their sleeves, baring pairs of sturdy, brawny arms, and blended into one mass with the several thousand Severn subjects around them.
Meanwhile, on the open ground at the other side of the long table, Irene too brought out the full authority of a workshop master craftsman.
Heedless of the lovely pink dress on her body, the pink-haired girl heroically plopped herself straddling the edge of a huge mixing iron trough, gripping a long wooden ladle in her hand, the twin-tails atop her head trembling violently along with her loud commands:
"Guard big-sisters of the Third Musketeer Squad, hurry and haul over all those big gray hemp sacks! Yes, yes, yes, that's the one—the widest heavy wagon! Pour all the specially made volcanic ash into the iron trough! Don't fill the creek water all at once—pour it in bit by bit, just like this Inventor says!!"
"Heave ho, big-sisters! Put your backs into it!!"
On the worksite, several dozen huge iron troughs were lined up in a row, scalding lime and volcanic ash mixing in the flowing water, instantly steaming up sheets of vast, white, warm vapor.
Several dozen tall, immensely strong Black Rose soldier-girls leveled their huge wooden shovels in perfect unison, and under Irene's direction, stirred madly in the great iron troughs with rhythm and uniformity.
"One, two, hwoo! One, two, hwoo!!"
The shouts blended into one with the huffing of the bellows.
That thick, gray-black specially made Cement, stirred by the wooden shovels, let out wave after wave of heavy, sticky "splosh-splosh" sounds, giving off a somewhat pungent yet immensely reassuring scent of stone.
"Aiyo, this stuff is all gloopy—can it really turn harder than an iron plate?"
A few Severn old men, who had just received their Black Bread and were now hauling a great bluestone together with thick hemp rope, wiped the sweat from their faces and incredulously sized up the gray slurry churning in the iron troughs.
Before they could even figure it out, on the old defense line of the earthen wall not far off, Grand Commander Bardess had already personally cast off her cloak, revealing a slim, tall, form-fitting undergarment.
This Grand Commander, ordinarily somewhat by-the-book, at this moment actually hoisted up with one hand, with the greatest ease, a square block of bluestone fully over a hundred catties in weight, and most neatly and flush rammed it straight down into the deepest trench at the very bottom!
"Rumble!!"
The boulder landed, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Without even lifting her head, Bardess's neutral, pleasant voice carried with extreme penetration across the clamorous worksite:
"Slurry-pouring squad!! Hurry and haul over all the Black Rose slurry Miss Irene has brewed! While the sky's still light, fill and level this stretch of the foundation for me, all the way!!"
"Coming, coming!! Slurry-pouring squad, keep up!!"
A dozen-some Black Rose soldier-girls heroically hauled huge wooden barrels and, amid a chorus of "splosh-splosh" cheers, poured every bucket of thick, scalding gray volcanic Cement, without holding any back, naturally and completely into the gaps between the jaggedly arranged boulders of the city wall.
That gray slurry, like quicksilver spilling across the ground, filled every uneven crevice with extreme smoothness, wrapping and fusing all those irregular stone materials, large and small, that had driven Bardess mad, into one whole.
"Praise the supreme Your Majesty Sophia!! Long live the Black Rose!!"
"Everyone put your backs into it!! Build the city wall high and tall, so the southern villains can't blow in even a single thread of wind!!"
"Whoo-whoo!! When I grow up I want to be as strong as these big-sisters!!"
At this moment, the few topknotted little girls of the small city of Severn were also using their worn little bamboo baskets, merrily gathering up the fallen gravel from the mud.
As they tossed the stones into the great iron troughs, they imitated the soldier big-sisters, raising their crisp little voices and loudly shouting their cheers.
Across the frontier ruins of the entire small city of Severn, sweat and earth intertwined. Several thousand subjects and three thousand Mason elites, on the eve of war that would arrive that very night, were all erupting beneath the banner of the Black Rose with a cohesion that made one tremble.
Irene stood atop the high wagon, watching that magnificent new city wall rise—amid the interlacing of gray slurry and boulders—at an astonishing speed into something tall, regular, and flush. In her pair of sapphire-like big eyes was reflected the golden afterglow of the setting western sun.
Somewhat distractedly, she touched her still faintly sore side waist, recalling that, on the stone steps of the Temporary Palace before departure, an exceedingly rare flicker of faint concern had crossed Her Majesty's pale-golden, dead-fish eyes.
Hmph hmph, Your Majesty, you'd better wait obediently in the Bedchamber for this Inventor to return.
The early-autumn evening wind howled past, setting the Black Rose banner that had just been hoisted above the small city of Severn snapping and fluttering.
And amid that exceedingly neat, perfectly uniform symphony of labor, the westernmost steel defense line belonging to the new Order of the Northern border was, with a terrifying, unreasonable speed, thunderously declaring itself firmly and utterly settled upon this destitute, godforsaken wilderness.
----------
By the noon of the fourth day, the blazing sunlight, far from causing the Severn worksite to grow desolate, instead pushed the bustling, fervent atmosphere to its very peak.
As the last few buckets of thick gray volcanic Cement were poured "splosh-splosh" into the gravel interlayer, the entire outer perimeter of the small city of Severn—a brand-new bluestone city wall, several zhang high and gleaming with a cold, hard metallic luster under the scorching sun—at last declared itself fully sealed!
Though these specially made Cements would still need a little more time to fully dry and harden, at present, as far as the eye could see, that originally cracked, tottering, low earthen wall had long since been replaced by this encircling, towering rampart like a gray colossus.
Every block of bluestone, tightly interlocked by the Cement, was fused into one whole, exuding a heaviness and security that made one's scalp tingle.
"Whoo-whoo-whoo!! The city wall is finished!!"
"We have a new city wall now! The southern villains can never break in again!!"
After a brief silence, the entire small city of Severn abruptly erupted into a frenzied cheer that nearly tore the cloud layers apart!
Several thousand subjects flung down the bamboo baskets and ropes in their hands and, heedless of the mud and sweat all over their bodies, surged forward in excitement. Many elders, ravaged by the fires of war, even sprawled directly upon the brand-new wall base, weeping with joy as they kissed the cold stone surface.
Irene, standing atop the high wagon, watched this seething sea of cheers before her, her pair of sapphire-like big eyes sparkling, full of incomparable accomplishment.
Hmph hmph, this Inventor really is the most impressive of all! In just four days, I've stuffed this whole destitute, godforsaken place into the iron walls of the Black Rose.
Once we return to the Royal City, if the poker-faced Majesty sees this great merit this lady has achieved, who knows how tenderly she'll reward me...
Grand Commander Bardess was at this moment leaning on her longsword to one side, that healthy, wheat-colored little face of hers likewise written all over with undisguisable pride.
This Commander, with her mild obsessive-compulsive disorder, was sizing up the regular city wall before her—on which not a single crevice could be found—with an exceedingly comfortable gaze.
"Commander Bardess!"
Irene briskly hopped down from the wagon, her head of long pink twin-tails swinging merrily along with the motion.
She sidled up beside Bardess and said loudly in that exceedingly crisp voice:
"The subjects are all thrilled to bits now! I remember, back at the headquarters before, Her Majesty once mentioned that to truly settle a place's people down, you have to give them a tangible sense of building and participating in the protection of this nation, of the Black Rose's new Order. So... this Inventor is thinking of throwing a great city-wide Hot Pot banquet now, to celebrate properly!"
"A city-wide Hot Pot banquet?"
Hearing this fresh term, Bardess was slightly stunned, a few traces of hesitation in that neutral, pleasant feminine voice.
This rigid Commander scratched her head of crisp short hair in some vexation, turned around and pointed at the several supply wagons behind, now more than half empty, and said worriedly:
"Miss Irene, your idea does indeed accord with Her Majesty's grand scheme of winning over the people's hearts. But the supplies we hauled all this way are mostly Black Bread and dried beans rationed by head count. Although there's still a lot of foodstuff left, if we let these few thousand subjects in the city eat their fill with open bellies... I'm afraid our marching grain and fodder reserves would hit rock bottom on the spot."
"Aiya, Commander Bardess, how is it your brain on ordinary days is as rigid as a rusty rivet on the assembly line!"
Irene gave a rather haughty little "hmph hmph," set both little hands properly upon her knees, and explained with a smiling squint:
"What Her Majesty spoke of is a sense of participation—it's not about letting them stuff their bellies to bursting! All we need to do is prop up the great bronze cauldrons, slice all the remaining cured meat into thin slices, add great handfuls of wild greens and mountain spring water, and stew up a pot of thick, scalding-hot red broth base. Add some various ingredients, simmer them in the pot to soak up the flavor. As long as each person can be apportioned a small bowl of piping-hot Hot Pot soup and dishes, fragrant with meat, paired with a whole hunk of our Mason's solid big Black Bread—that's already more than enough to fully warm their hearts!"
Bardess calculated a little in her heart and found that this method of distribution—"one bowl of soup plus one hunk of bread"—was not only exceedingly sparing of grain, but could also be apportioned flush and properly by count, fitting her pursuit of Order to the utmost.
This tall, straight Grand Commander promptly slapped her thigh and laughed heartily:
"Good!! This way of dividing it is regular! One bowl, one hunk—no one gets more, no one gets less! Since it's Her Majesty's wish, then decision made—let's do it!!"
In no time at all, before the just-completed city gate of the small city of Severn, several dozen huge bronze marching cauldrons were once again propped up.
Surrounded by a host of Black Rose soldier-girls, Irene most nimbly climbed atop a high stone platform.
The pink-haired girl patted the dust from her hem, cupped both hands around her mouth, and shouted loudly to the several thousand subjects below, still steeped in their joy:
"People of the small city of Severn!! Everyone quiet down for a moment first!!"
Hearing the Chief Inventor's exceedingly penetrating, crisp shout, the noisy square instantly fell silent, countless pairs of eyes full of worship and fanaticism locking in unison upon the pink figure on the stone platform.
"To celebrate the complete completion of our new city wall, this Inventor has just received Her Majesty's sacred approval and grace! Today at noon, right here before the city gate, by Mason's most noble custom, we invite the whole city to eat a meal of piping-hot royal grand Hot Pot!!"
Royal grand Hot Pot?!
This strange, never-before-heard term detonated with a roar beside the ears of the several thousand poverty-stricken folk of the small city of Severn. The subjects, already somewhat exhilarated, plunged within a single second into a deeper layer of fanaticism and bewilderment.
The subjects crowded around the huge bronze cauldrons, watching the Black Rose soldier big-sisters huff and puff at the bellows, stuffing into the pots whole slabs upon slabs of precious, succulent meat slices, glittering salt, and bright-red spices.
Great gusts of mouth-watering, rich meat aroma began to drift unrestrained on the cold wind, and below there at once arose waves of whispered, head-to-head conjecture:
"Hot Pot? A pot that catches fire? Heavens, that must surely be a sacred feast only the supreme nobles dwelling in the central royal palace are qualified to enjoy!"
"Back when I was a stable hand, I heard the passing traveling merchants say that every time Mason's Queen reviews the urgent ledgers of the cities in the dead of night, a bronze divine pot like this has to be set upon her table! Eat the meat inside, and you can possess the divine strength to lift a boulder of several hundred catties!"
"Her Majesty truly is too merciful... We're nothing but the lowliest refugees of the frontier, yet Her Majesty not only built us a city wall this high, this regular—she even has the milady Inventor bring the royal sacred feast she herself enjoys every day, holding nothing back, for us to taste?!"
"This is the divine grace bestowed upon us by the Black Rose's new Order! Praise Your Majesty Sophia!!"
Above the several dozen huge bronze cauldrons, wave upon wave of warm steam, rich to the point of nearly thick, was at this moment rising up.
That scalding, bright-red broth base, under the frantic roasting of the bonfires, rolled with large bubbles fervent as lava.
As the soldiers dumped tray after tray of ingredients into the pots, the sky above the entire small city of Severn was instantly swept up in an unprecedented olfactory storm.
Within that red, glistening broth, slabs of plump, succulent cured and smoked meat—marinated by the headquarters' secret method and glossy with oil—bobbed up and down with the current, the fatty parts already stewed to half-translucency, quivering and exuding the mellow fragrance of meat-fat.
Slices of fresh, tender venison, thin as cicada wings, needed only a single roll in the bubbling broth to most neatly lock in the most succulent juices.
Besides the great quantity of meat, also tumbling in the pot were the crisp wild bamboo shoots the subjects had just dug out of the surrounding deep mountains, rings of thick potato slices stewed soft and tender, and emerald-green wild mountain greens, steeped through with red oil, looking all the more delicate and luscious.
As the high flames kept urging it on, an unprecedented, exceedingly domineering rich fragrance began to spread madly in all directions, penetrating every crack.
It was a fragrance blending the mellowness of pure animal fat, the freshness of high-mountain delicacies, and a strange, spicy flavor carrying a touch of burning heat.
"Sluuurp... My heavens, what on earth is this divine flavor?"
"I've lived half my life, and I've never smelled meat fragrance this rich even in my dreams—I'm afraid this is going to bewitch my whole self with its aroma!"
Several thousand Severn subjects all stretched their necks in unison, breathing in hard through their noses at the rich fragrance drifting through the air.
These poverty-stricken folk struggling on the frontier, who all year round couldn't bear to lick even a big block of salt one extra time, when had they ever witnessed such a supreme delicacy, stewed up by dozens of kinds of spices and fatty meat all at once?
Many people's bellies instantly erupted in waves of thunderous rumbling, and even their eyeballs were nearly glued to those tumbling meat slices, unable to look away.
Yet amid this meat fragrance that made one's very bones go soft, that fiery scent making its debut upon the frontier wilderness for the first time also put no small number of people through some suffering.
"Achoo! Achoo! This smell... cough, how come it smells both fragrant and choking?"
"My nose is both sour and spicy, the tears are nearly coming. This smell feels even spicier than black pepper! But for some reason, the saliva in my mouth is like a mountain creek—I simply can't stop it from gushing out!"
The subjects, while rubbing their somewhat reddened noses and letting out bursts of violent sneezes, yet stared as if bewitched at that bronze cauldron rolling with red oil, their throats bobbing up and down ceaselessly as they desperately swallowed their saliva.
This wondrous experience—rubbing their eyes from the spice on one hand, yet utterly tantalized into ravenous appetite on the other—filled them with unprecedented anticipation for this strange royal sacred feast.
Seeing the comical sight of those several thousand people below tormented into goggling, drooling longing by a single pot of red broth, Irene, atop the stone platform, planted her two little hands somewhat smugly on her hips, the pair of pink twin-tails atop her head swaying merrily along.
The pink-haired girl cleared her throat and, facing the golden sunlight pouring down from across the sky, loudly enlightened them in that exceedingly crisp, exceedingly penetrating loud voice:
"Hee hee, everyone, don't panic! That bright-red treasure in the soup that looks a little scary is no poison. This is a brand-new variety of vegetable that this Chief Inventor and our great Your Majesty Sophia painstakingly developed together in the greenhouses of the Royal City. Its name is—chili!"
The moment they heard that this thing had actually been developed with Your Majesty Sophia's personal involvement, the subjects below all sobered in unison, their gaze at that pot of red broth instantly transforming from pure drooling into the most fanatical reverence.
Irene lifted her round, pretty little face slightly and, with some little pride, continued, patting her chest and hollering loudly:
"This Inventor tells you, this chili is a top-grade treasure not to be exchanged for a thousand gold! Just how cold autumn and winter are on our Northern border plains, everyone knows full well in their hearts. As long as you eat this chili, no matter how great the wind and snow outside, it can not only instantly dispel all the chill from your bodies, but also keep your blood and qi flowing smoothly, so you won't easily catch a chill in winter! And what's more, it can help whet your appetite and strengthen your spleen, making even those dry, shriveled hunks of bread taste like a celestial delicacy!"
Saying this, Irene blinked her pair of sapphire-like big eyes and continued to admonish:
"But, although this stuff is unreasonably fragrant, its temper is fierce! When everyone gets their portion of soup and dishes in a bit, whatever you do, don't gulp it down in one go. Remember to first break the big Black Bread into small chunks, dip them lightly in the red broth, and chew them together with the broth and meat slices! If it really is unbearably spicy, hurry and drink a mouthful of clear water to soothe yourself—got it all memorized now?"
Hearing this miraculous, magical efficacy, a few apron-wearing Severn old men below couldn't help shedding old tears, crying out again and again:
"We heard! Thank you for Her Majesty's sacred grace! This is no vegetable—this is plainly a chill-dispelling sacred medicine that Your Majesty Sophia, grieving that we suffer the cold, specially developed for us!!"
For a moment, cheers praising Your Majesty Sophia once again resounded like a mountain-toppling tide before the city gate.
At Grand Commander Bardess's single command, before the main gate of the small city of Severn the curtain swiftly rose on an astonishing banquet.
The three thousand Black Rose elite foot soldiers once again displayed their rigid yet efficient soldierly discipline.
Under Bardess's nearly nitpicking stern direction, the several thousand subjects, holding their wooden bowls and clutching their Black Bread, were forcibly divided in proper order into several dozen long lines, each as straight as if measured with a ruler, queuing up one after another before each bronze cauldron.
The Black Rose guard big-sisters in charge of ladling rolled up their sleeves, gripping specially made large bronze ladles in their hands.
Seeing those few haggard-faced subjects at the very front cowering and shrinking, not even daring to lift their heads, the soldier-girls gave a hearty laugh and steadily plunged their arms into the soup cauldron.
"Splosh—"
Accompanied by an exceedingly rich rolling of thick broth, the high-raised bronze ladle was instantly filled to the brim.
Into every subject's wooden bowl was ladled, exceedingly fairly and exceedingly generously, a whole great ladleful of Hot Pot soup and dishes.
That red, bright, oil-glossed broth poured down in an instant, carrying within it not only several chunks of succulent cured and smoked meat, stewed quivering with marbled fat and lean, and pink, tender meat slices, but also heaped full of soft potatoes soaked through with red-oil broth, crisp and tender wild bamboo shoots, and great handfuls of delicate wild mountain greens.
"Hold it steady! Paired with the Black Bread in your hands, this is the chill-dispelling sacred feast Her Majesty specially blended for you!"
The subjects, with trembling hands, carefully cupped that heavy wooden bowl steaming with heat.
Smelling that supreme meat fragrance so near at hand, drilling straight up to the crown of their heads, every pair of eyes was opened wide, and their whole selves, as if in a dream, retreated to the open ground in fearful reverence.
Almost the instant they had sat down steadily on the sandy ground, the family of the topknotted little girl could no longer hold themselves back.
The young hunter stared at the layer of glittering red oil in the bowl, drifting with a few bits of red chili, his throat bobbing up and down with an exceedingly loud gulp.
He drew a deep breath, and following the milady Inventor's instructions from atop the platform, first carefully scooped up a shallow little sip of Hot Pot red broth with his wooden spoon and, somewhat nervously, sent it into his mouth.
"Sluuurp... sluuurp..."
Within a ten-thousandth of a second of the broth touching the tip of his tongue, the hunter's whole self instantly froze on the spot, as though struck by an immobilization spell.
And then—
"Cough cough!! Cough... cough cough!!"
An exceedingly violent fit of coughing, so fierce it nearly choked tears from his eyes, abruptly shattered the surrounding silence.
Not just him—across the entire square of the small city of Severn, in that very instant rose up, one after another, the violent coughs and sharp gasps of countless subjects who had been choked.
It was a strange flavor that their impoverished language was utterly unable to describe!
The moment their lips and tongues touched the red broth, it was as though they had been most neatly scalded by the fiercest spark of a winter's day—both sour and numbing, the fiery, burning pain searing its way down their throats.
Yet before these poverty-stricken folk, who had never in their lives tasted anything spicy, could even let out a terrified wail, that most extreme saltiness, fragrance, and freshness, wrapped up by the chili, in that very second came rolling back into their mouths, both exceedingly overbearing and exceedingly gentle!
"Smack, smack..."
The young hunter smacked his lips hard.
When that mellow meat fragrance of animal fat, blended with the freshness of wild mountain delicacies, came swirling madly across his taste buds—fully awakened by the stimulation of the spice—that somewhat choking spiciness, in an instant, transformed into an ineffable, ultimate exhilaration!
An unprecedented hot current surged up with a whoosh from deep in his lower belly, spreading madly through every limb and bone, instantly and utterly dispelling all the early-autumn chill he had accumulated over three days of travel and four days of wall-building!
"My gods... this, this flavor! This flavor is too fragrant!!"
The hunter's somewhat reddened eyes were full of fanaticism and shock. While hissing and gasping in cold air, he eagerly followed the method Irene had taught, fiercely tearing off a great chunk of solid, hard Black Bread and dipping it straight into the red, glistening, sticky broth for a hard soak.
The originally dry, coarse Black Bread, once it had drunk its fill of that layer of salty, fragrant, succulent red oil, instantly turned soft and delicious.
Biting down in a big mouthful, the wheat fragrance, meat fragrance, and the fiery heat of the chili fused perfectly in his mouth—so delicious that even the marrow in his bones went a little soft.
"Boo-hoo... hoo..."
Just as everyone began to savor this delicious meal in small mouthful after small mouthful, and the whole area before the city gate was filled with the sweeping, ravenous sound of chewing, an irrepressible, hoarse sob abruptly came from a corner to one side.
It was that eldest, most senior elder, leaning on his withered-wood cane, cupping his bowl of Hot Pot of which he had eaten only a small part, two streams of murky tears pattering down the wrinkles of his cheeks and falling, without holding any back, into the bright-red broth.
The Black Rose patrol soldier-girl beside him was startled and hurried over, asking with some concern:
"Old one, what's wrong? Is the soup too spicy—has it scalded your body?"
"No... it's not that, milady..."
The old man lifted his head as he sobbed, his somewhat dazed eyes brimming at this moment with soul-deep emotion and heartfelt reverence.
Gazing at that layer of clear, translucent red broth in the bowl, his nose stung, and his voice trembled out of all shape:
"Forget these pale, fatty meat slices and mountain delicacies... old wife, you taste this broth—what's used inside, inside it, is the cleanest, the most noble, refined salt without even a trace of bitterness to it!!"
This single sentence instantly made the surrounding subjects, who had been feasting heartily, freeze their movements in unison.
In their originally secluded little frontier nation, due to long-term layer-upon-layer exploitation by the old nobles and traveling merchants, coarse salt was forever a rare commodity.
An ordinary refugee, all year round, could only spend a high price to buy back a small block of inferior coarse salt mixed with great quantities of sand and grit—bitter and astringent to eat—and most sparingly swish it a couple of times in the water when boiling wild-greens soup.
As for that pure white refined salt, which only the high-class houses and hereditary great nobles of the central Royal City were qualified to enjoy... these poverty-stricken folk eking out a living in the wind and sand would never, not even in their dreams, dare to harbor the extravagant hope of tasting a single lick.
But now?!
In these rolling bronze cauldrons, that never-before-seen Your Majesty Sophia had not only built them a towering steel rampart, but had even, holding nothing back, stewed this saltiness—pure to the absolute extreme, without a single impurity, sacred—entirely into this bowl of piping-hot broth!
This was the supreme Queen, bestowing the highest reward and salvation belonging to the gods, in full, into the very mouths of these lowliest subjects of hers!
"Thank you, Your Majesty Sophia... Her Majesty truly is a savior come down from heaven..."
For a time, more and more Severn subjects, while wiping their tears, fiercely tore into the big Black Bread in their hands alongside that supreme delicacy of Hot Pot.
Tears mingled with the fiery red broth and were swallowed down their throats, and far from carrying the slightest bitterness, instead, in this very second, they welded the faith and fanaticism deep in their hearts for the Black Rose's new Order, unbreakably, onto this most marginal of wildernesses.
Irene, standing atop the high stone platform, watched the several thousand subjects below eating with sweat streaming down their faces, some even so moved they knelt to the ground crying "long live."
In her pair of sapphire-like big eyes was reflected the scalding steam rising from the several dozen bronze cauldrons, and the corners of her little mouth couldn't help curling up high in smugness.
The next day.
When the morning sun of the small city of Severn once again broke through the low, heavy mist of the Northern border, casting its first ray of faintly red golden light upon the brand-new gray city wall, the entire little frontier city had spontaneously awakened from its slumber.
Last night's meal of scalding-hot, salty-fragrant Hot Pot sacred feast had not only completely swept away the subjects' long-held hunger and despair, but had also left in their bellies a warmth that had yet to disperse even now.
Irene, having slept her fill, hopped down from the wagon first thing in the morning, brimming with vigor.
Those two long pink twin-tails swung most merrily in the morning breeze, and her round, pretty little face appeared all the more lovely, her sapphire big eyes sparkling, full of the spirited energy belonging to a core artisan of the Black Rose.
"Whoo-ha—! The morning air is so nice. This Inventor is bursting with drive today too!"
Irene habitually rubbed her smooth little cheeks with her fair little hands, then shook open with a rustle the several new blueprints she had quietly drawn and tucked into the fur quilt last night.
Meanwhile, on the open ground not far off, Grand Commander Bardess had also long since changed into that crisp, dark everyday uniform.
This tall, straight Grand Commander was at that moment tying her head of crisp short hair behind her, her neutral, pleasant feminine voice sounding especially clarion and forceful first thing in the morning:
"First and Second Phalanxes, haul over all the tools cleaned last night! Yesterday the city wall laid down the most stable foundation; today we're going to dig out, beneath the ground of the whole city, several defensive secret passages wide enough for two people to run side by side! Be sharp and nimble, all of you—anyone who digs the soil crooked won't get his share of bean soup tonight!"
"Whoo-whoo!! Obey the Grand Commander's military order!!"
The Mason warriors, having eaten their fill of Black Bread, erupted into an exceedingly loud chorus of response.
Not just them—the several thousand subjects of the small city of Severn around them also spontaneously organized themselves at this moment, the able-bodied men gripping heavy iron spades in their hands, the big-sisters and women carrying bamboo baskets on their backs.
Everyone spontaneously formed several dozen long lines, exceedingly regular in Bardess's eyes, waiting eagerly for the milady Inventor's next stage of planning.
"Bardess, look here!"
Irene gathered up her hem and briskly trotted over to the most dilapidated bell-tower ruin in the very center of the city.
She spread the parchment blueprint open on a flat stone slab, her fair little finger pointing at the several crisscrossing lines precisely marked on it in ink, and analyzed loudly:
"The small city of Severn is positioned too far to the south. If the old Emperor of the south really comes pressing over with those old nobles' heavy-armored cavalry, relying on the big city wall outside alone isn't insurance enough. So this lady has designed, beneath this bell tower and beside that big granary in the northwest corner, a total of four concealed underground entrances."
As Irene gestured, her two little fists swung forcefully through the air, her voice crisp and proud:
"We're going to dig down deep along these four points, one zhang and two chi, then run the tunnels all the way out to the depths of the Red Maple Forest outside the city! This way, not only can we fully evacuate the old, the weak, the women and children of the city at the most dangerous moment, but our black musketeer squads and heavy cavalry can also, when the enemy is most exhausted from assaulting the city, quietly slip around to their backsides and catch them utterly off guard!"
Bardess's somewhat dashing fine brows lifted slightly, and as she looked at those winding yet exceedingly symmetrical, flush-fitting secret passage networks on the blueprint, that ultra-faint layer of obsessive-compulsive disorder was instantly granted an immense soothing.
This Grand Commander nodded approvingly and chimed in loudly:
"Marvelous! These lines are drawn regular to the absolute extreme. The tunnel mouths hidden in the bell-tower ruins—outsiders could never figure them out! First Phalanx, bring wooden beams and iron picks, follow this Commander down into the pit, and start digging!!"
As the order was issued, across the earthen ground of the entire small city of Severn an unprecedented soil-digging frenzy was instantly stirred up.
"Heave ho! Heave ho! Everyone put your backs into it!!"
The foundation beneath the bell tower was exceedingly hard, but before subjects who had eaten their fill and held the most fanatical reverence for Your Majesty Sophia, this counted for nothing at all.
Several hundred able-bodied men rolled up their sleeves, baring bodies of sweat-soaked bronze muscle, and under the dim halo of the torches, their iron picks gouged a great swath of crisp "clang clang" sounds into the hard soil layer.
"Those on the left, the soil layer on that side is a bit loose—hurry and prop up the pine beams hauled over from headquarters! Wedge it in tight, whatever you do don't let it collapse!"
Bardess personally descended into the deepest soil pit. This tall, straight Grand Commander raised her two fair arms sheathed in fine-steel vambraces with the utmost efficiency, and steadily propped a defensive long beam—fully an armspan thick and several hundred catties in weight—above the secret passage.
Her pair of bright, clear eyes saw with great precision in the dim underground. While adjusting the angle of the timber, she shouted at the soldier beside her:
"No crookedness allowed! Shift this beam half a cun to the right—it must line up flush with the defense pillar next to it!!"
Below, while the Severn laborers carried basket after basket of dug-out yellow earth out, they watched Commander Bardess—immensely strong and exceedingly insistent on regularity in everything she did—and inwardly surged again with wave upon wave of frantic worship.
"Mason's soldier big-sisters work underground like they're arraying troops and deploying formations—truly miraculous..."
By the time afternoon came and the sunlight slanted increasingly westward, that encircling, towering gray Cement new city wall around the outer perimeter of the small city of Severn, after a full day of being blown by the cold Northern-border wind, had already begun to take on a layer of steely, ashen-gray hue on its surface.
Though it had not yet fully cured, it was already solid enough for soldiers to stand atop it.
"Come, come, come—guard big-sisters of the Black Rose Third and Fourth Musketeer Squads, this afternoon our main battlefield is up on the city wall!"
Irene, following the stone steps just built, climbed with merry steps to the summit of the city wall, several zhang high.
The wind off the summer plains blew her head of pink hair into slight disarray, yet her expression at this moment was especially smug.
Behind her, several dozen tall, immensely strong Black Rose soldier-girls were using thick hemp rope to haul, with combined effort, hulking great contraptions—forged in advance back in the Royal City workshop and assembled from skilled wrought-iron bearings and top-grade red maple wood.
That was the workshop's newest output—the Black Rose specially made neutral-lever trebuchet.
"Haul that heaviest iron bearing into the core groove at the very center of the city wall! Careful, whatever you do don't smash your feet!"
Irene gripped a long wrench in her hand, her pair of sapphire big eyes nimbly sizing up the various interlocking parts of the apparatus.
Hearing the call, several soldier-girls let out a crisp, hearty shout in unison, the muscles on their bare, fair arms tensing slightly.
With combined effort they lifted a huge wrought-iron windlass fully several hundred catties in weight, and most steadily and flush rammed it straight into the depths of the city wall groove.
"Rumble!!"
The heavy impact stirred up a slight tremor. Irene hurriedly sprawled over it, her two little hands deftly cranking "clack, clack" away with the wrench, frantically tightening those thick brass bolts.
"All set! Wedged it in tight!"
The pink-haired girl straightened her back and rather cockily wiped the black grease smudged on the tip of her nose.
Pointing at that huge wooden throwing arm—jutting fully several zhang out beyond the city wall, reinforced with several layers of cowhide and iron plating—she said triumphantly to Bardess at her side, who had just climbed up onto the city wall covered in mud:
"Commander Bardess, look at this big fellow! This is no old-age piece of junk that can only throw stones. Once this thing is fully installed, this Inventor is going to fill the big charge pack at the back entirely with our workshop's specially made Black Rose great explosive bombs—that's the kind of super-huge bomb stuffed inside with wrought-iron fragments and Black powder!"
Irene grew more elated the more she spoke, swinging her two little fists across the city wall with the greatest gusto, and shouting loudly:
"By then, the moment the southern army outside dares to form ranks and charge over, this lady need only most briskly pull this brass fuse-cord up on the city wall. Whoosh—and dozens of great explosive bombs can be flung all at once straight onto the tops of their heads! It can blow their fine-copper armor and shields completely to smithereens! This is what's called dimensional-suppression deterrence from the most marginal of frontiers—let's see who else dares come and fight our Her Majesty for territory!"
Listening to this fully-constructed mental image of Irene's steel weapon of mass destruction, Bardess stared without blinking at those gears and wrought-iron windlasses glinting with a chill, cold sheen in the sunlight, and within her heart there once again welled up a world-shaking worship.
This Mason Commander who had come along with the army most awestruckly stroked that cold wrought-iron handle and sighed in admiration beneath the vast sky in that crisp, forceful neutral feminine voice:
"Too terrifying... Miss Irene, this supreme war-wisdom, capable of hurling several hundred catties of Black powder a thousand paces out right from atop the city wall—surely this too was something Her Majesty, in the deep-night Bedchamber, calculated through with you upon the soft couch early on, every single procedure made crystal-clear? Her Majesty truly is one who, seated upon the throne, need only move her fingers to crush every last enemy outside the western great gate dead in the cradle!!"
The moment Irene heard the words "Her Majesty calculated through every procedure under the covers," her whole round, pretty little face, in the last trace of red sunset glow, instantly flushed once again to its most frantic critical point of redness!
She was thrown into such flustered confusion that even the rhythm of her breathing was utterly tangled into a knotted mess.
"A-alright! Bardess, hurry and stop egging it on! Go, go and urge the soldiers to pull the ropes on both sides of the windlass taut—they absolutely must be pulled as flat and level as the city wall's defense line!!"
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