The firewood in the stove emitted a faint crackling sound, and the orange-red firelight danced upon the mottled walls of the stone house, stretching three slender shadows into long shapes.
Willow squatted half-crouched beside the stove, gently poking the charcoal fire with an iron poker before adding two solid pieces of dry wood.
Although this room was crude, under the enhancement of the Saint's magic and Willow's uninterrupted care, the interior had finally shed that piercing, bone-chilling cold.
"Your Majesty, the bedding is already a bit warmer."
Willow patted the dust off her hands, climbed onto the bed with light movements, and burrowed into the quilt on the outermost side.
At this moment on the stone bed, three quilt rolls were arranged neatly. Sophia had been forcibly settled right in the middle by the two of them.
"Actually... it doesn't matter if This Queen sleeps on the outermost side."
Sophia looked at the beams on the ceiling, feeling the subtle movements coming from her left and right, her tone appearing indifferent.
"How can that be?"
Daphne's voice came from the right. Because it was separated by the quilt, it sounded muffled, yet it revealed a kind of serious intensity.
"I am a Magical Girl... no, I am a Saint. If I sleep by the window, I can use the Holy Light to perceive the wind direction outside and reinforce the barrier at any time. Your Majesty, your body is weak; you absolutely must not be blown by even a little bit of wind."
"This servant thinks so too."
Willow, on the left, turned her body sideways and gently tucked in the corners of Sophia's bedding.
"If this servant sleeps on the outside, it will be convenient to get up at night to add firewood, and the disturbance will be smaller. Your Majesty only needs to close your eyes with peace of mind; leave the rest to us."
The oil lamp in the room was blown out by Willow, leaving only a bit of dull red glowing from the stove opening.
The stone house fell into silence; only the sound of wind and snow outside the window, like the roaring of wild beasts, constantly reminded them that this was the border wilderness, not the Palace.
Although the three people each covered themselves with their own quilts, due to the compactness of the bed, that vague physical perception and the interweaving of breathing made the atmosphere become subtle.
Sophia gently pinched her own leg inside the quilt. Her waist hurt, her butt hurt, and her back was sore too. Although this reed mattress was paved with soft cushions, compared to the soft cushions in the Bedchamber, it was simply torture.
The two on her left and right—why was their breathing frequency faster than the other? Could they not sleep either?
However, Willow was not unable to sleep because of discomfort, but because of many reasons. She gently turned her head in the darkness to gaze at Sophia's side profile, a burst of subtle feelings in her heart.
Your Majesty is right by my hand... so close.
Although separated by the quilt, I can smell that clear and cold scent on her body, like the first snow. I must guard the fire well; I cannot let Your Majesty catch a cold.
The silence lasted for about a quarter of an hour. Sophia still couldn't fall asleep; she could feel that the two girls beside her were also pretending to sleep.
"Willow, Daphne."
Sophia's clear and cold voice rang out in the darkness.
"Can't sleep?"
"Ah..."
Daphne let out a soft cry, shrinking into her quilt with some shyness.
"Your Majesty, I... I just feel this bed is too magical. It's the first time sleeping on such a rock-hard bed, yet deep down I don't feel disgust or much rejection; instead, I feel very settled in my heart."
"That must be because Your Majesty is by your side."
Willow chimed in with a smile from the other side, "With a person as powerful as Your Majesty sleeping in the same place, naturally, one would feel at ease."
"Miss Willow makes a reasonable point."
Willow also gently turned over, facing Sophia, her voice low and soft:
"This servant was just thinking about those subjects who sent the bedding. They are so poor, yet they gave the cleanest, best things to us. Your Majesty, look at this coarse linen; although it scratches the hands, if you get close, it really has the smell of sunshine."
Sophia fell silent for a moment, feeling that rough but real tactile sensation.
"That is because they want to live."
Sophia said faintly.
"They mortgaged their final sincerity to This Queen, and This Queen merely accepted this collateral. In the rules of civilization, sincerity is sometimes heavier than gold coins."
"Sincerity..." Daphne murmured.
Has Your Majesty not also handed over the most perfect sincerity to her subjects?
In the wind and snow of the sub-zero winter, she personally rushed about with grain for the sake of her subjects, deeply afraid that her subjects would freeze to death or starve to death due to the winter famine.
"Your Majesty."
Daphne used the cover of darkness to embolden herself, gently touching Sophia's arm through the quilt.
"When spring arrives and the willow trees in Withered Willow Town turn green, shall we come to see them together again? If Your Majesty wants to come, there will definitely be many fish then. I must properly roast a few for Your Majesty."
Willow's heart ached terribly.
Her Majesty was a golden branch and jade leaf, a goddess of the Nine Heavens. Now, in a barren place like Withered Willow Town, she couldn't even eat a proper meal and had to squeeze into a dilapidated, leaky stone house to endure the freezing cold.
When Her Majesty was still a Princess, when had she ever eaten such bitterness?
But she was also rejoicing that it was fortunately Her Majesty Sophia. If it were any other King, many subjects in the affiliated locations around Mason—Withered Willow Town, Kree Village, and Eagle's Nest Mountain—would definitely have frozen or starved to death this winter.
Nor would they have been able to reuse Irene, Delilah, and Miss Daphne like Her Majesty did; thus, there wouldn't be so many new inventions and new trade. Nor would there be more wheat rice, more crops.
Fortunately, the days now were gradually getting better.
Sophia felt that subtle touch and did not push it away, merely responding lazily:
"We'll see how the situation is. After spring, we definitely must come to Withered Willow Town to plant new wheat too. At that time, Withered Willow Town, Kree Village, Eagle's Nest Mountain, and the land near the Royal City—we must plant all of them with the best crops. This way, come next year, we won't lack grain, and everyone can eat their fill."
"Then this servant thanks Your Majesty for your favor on behalf of the subjects here."
Inside the stone house, the firelight gradually dimmed. Amidst that vague scent of dried grass, Sophia finally felt a belated wave of drowsiness.
Although the body heat coming from the left and right sides was separated by fabric, it was like a solid wall, wrapping her tightly in a kind of softness that felt unfamiliar to her, yet not dislikable.
In the middle of the night, she seemed to occasionally hear soft movements twice, like someone lightly lifting the quilt corner to get out of bed, followed by the deep crackling sound of firewood being turned in the fire pit.
Sophia thought groggily that it was probably Willow doing her duty to add firewood to keep warm again. This sense of stability from being properly cared for made her let out an inaudible murmur in her dream, shrinking further into the center of the softness, and she fell completely asleep.
*
Early the next morning, what dragged Sophia from the dreamscape back to reality was not the crisp morning bell in the Palace, but a burst of extremely abrupt and noisy hoofbeats.
Immediately following was the sound of metal armor colliding and the muffled thud of heavy objects hitting the ground, appearing exceptionally ear-piercing in the silent Withered Willow Town.
Sophia sat up rubbing her somewhat gritty eyes, her silver long hair sliding down like silk. She only felt as if her whole body had been run over back and forth by a carriage; especially her waist—having been pressed against that hard wooden plank all night, it was so sore she wanted to immediately return to the Palace and lie flat for three days.
"Your Majesty, you are awake?"
Willow at the side was already neatly dressed and was walking over holding a basin of steaming hot water. The wind and snow outside the window seemed to have lessened a bit, but the sky was still gloomy, revealing a chilling solemnity.
Sophia didn't speak, simply getting up with some curiosity and walking to the window.
This stone house had been in disrepair for years; the window paper already had several holes broken by wind and sun. At this moment, she gently lifted a corner of the blanket blocking the wind, just enough to see the full picture outside.
The moment she saw the scene outside the window, Sophia's pale golden pupils contracted slightly.
Under that iconic withered willow tree, a squad of elite cavalry was reining in their horses. The two leaders flipped off their horses, their movements as agile as two sharp blades returning to their sheaths.
It was Delilah and Vasha.
Delilah was still in a suit of silver armor, only the originally shiny armor was covered in mud spots and frost. That face, which was perennially cold, appeared somewhat haggard due to the long journey at this time, but when she saw the musketeers guarding the door of the stone house, her eyes instantly became sharp as eagles.
And Vasha, at her side, was also wrapped in heavy fur at this moment, her hand clutching dead tight onto a leather bag that looked heavy. She even stumbled in the snow because she dismounted too urgently.
They seemed to be anxiously asking Victor something. When Sophia's figure appeared behind the broken window paper, the two raised their heads almost simultaneously, as if their hearts were linked.
The moment the six eyes met, Sophia clearly saw that the eyes of these two women, who commanded the wind and clouds in the Royal City of Leighton, suddenly lit up at this moment, just like two clusters of wildfire igniting on a wasteland.
"Your Majesty..."
Delilah murmured in a low voice, her throat sliding unconsciously. She subconsciously wanted to rush over and kneel in worship, but stopped abruptly after taking one step, a look of extremely deep seriousness and guilt appearing on her face; she realized that the noise of her return was too loud and had disturbed Her Majesty's peaceful dream.
Vasha was even more excited, the tip of her nose red. While rubbing her frozen stiff fingers, she bowed deeply toward Sophia behind the window; that devout appearance was exactly like a believer who had seen a True God.
The subjects waiting to receive porridge at the side all cast their gazes over one after another.
Did you see that? Those are the Queen's Wings returning from afar!
They carry countless riches and honors, yet the moment they see the stone house, they are as humble as dust. What does this prove? It proves that Her Majesty not only saved our lives here, but in Leighton, a thousand miles away, she has also long since established immortal merits with those god-like methods!
That broken stone house, in their eyes right now, is probably even more holy than the Palace of Leighton!
Sophia looked through the broken hole at the two people outside with complex expressions, feeling somewhat puzzled. Didn't she say to stay a while longer? Why did they run back so quickly?
"Is it Delilah and Vasha?"
Willow at the side was also extremely surprised to see these two at this time and place. "Could it be... could it be that something happened in Leighton?"
"Let them in," Sophia ordered faintly.
Willow responded, ignoring her slightly messy hair, and trotted all the way out of the stone house.
Outside the house, Victor was leading several soldiers in distributing piping hot rice porridge in the cold wind. Amidst the curling mist, Delilah and Vasha were like two statues sealed by ice and snow, staring dead fixedly at that tightly closed door.
"Lord Delilah, Lord Vasha."
Willow spoke, panting slightly, a gentle smile on her face.
"Your Majesty is awake and asks the two of you to go in and report. The soldiers outside have worked hard too; Chancellor Victor has prepared hot porridge there, let everyone warm their bodies first."
Delilah nodded slightly, waving her hand to the cavalry behind her to signal dismissal. Her hands, which were cut to stinging pain by the wind and frost, gripped the sword hilt tightly. Before stepping into the stone house, she subconsciously rubbed the mud off the soles of her boots vigorously in the snow, deeply afraid of bringing the filth from outside into Her Majesty's dwelling.
Pushing open the door, a breath mixed with the residual warmth of charcoal and a faint scent of mint hit them in the face.
Delilah and Vasha stepped into the room. Before that wooden plank bed that was so crude it was heartbreaking, they knelt on one knee with uniform movements.
"Subject Delilah, Vasha, kowtows to Your Majesty! We failed to escort you in time, letting Your Majesty stoop to this; your subjects deserve ten thousand deaths!"
They had evidently already learned outside the reason why Her Majesty's group was here.
Sophia had already draped that black fox fur over her shoulders under Daphne's service. Her silver-white hair hung on her shoulders, setting off that face to be increasingly clear and cold like the moon.
She looked at these two travel-worn subordinates before her eyes, pressing her glabella with some helplessness:
"Rise, the ground is cold. This Queen is curious; the two who should be counting gold coins in Leighton, why have you suddenly run to this desolate wilderness? I remember sending you a letter telling you to stay for a while longer."
Vasha couldn't care less about wiping the frost off the tip of her nose, hurriedly pulling out that leather bag she had guarded dead tight from her bosom, her voice carrying an excitement that was hard to suppress.
"Your Majesty, the situation in Leighton is even crazier than we anticipated."
Vasha swallowed a mouthful of saliva, steadying her breathing.
"The toothbrushes you sent have already become status medals for the nobles of Leighton, and the tooth powder that arrived subsequently... it directly blew open the Royal Court of the Kingdom of Leighton."
Delilah took over the conversation, a profound meaning flashing in her eyes:
"Your Majesty, after the King and Queen of Leighton personally tested the tooth powder, they showed unprecedented anxiety and enthusiasm. They not only want to purchase finished products in large batches but even summoned Vasha and me late last night, proposing an extremely bold request."
"Oh?" Sophia placed her gaze on Delilah. "Let's hear it."
"The Royal House of Leighton wants to buy the production and sales rights for the tooth powder."
Vasha stared at Sophia's eyes, her tone solemn.
"They hope to establish workshops within the territory of Leighton, producing and selling under the name of Black Rose. For this, they are willing to pay a huge royalty fee; just like the toothbrushes, they will pay on time every year."
The stone house fell into silence for an instant.
Victor happened to push the door open and enter. Hearing this sentence, he was so shocked the ladle in his hand almost fell to the ground.
"Not only that."
Delilah continued to add.
"The King of Leighton hopes to reach an eternal, mutually beneficial cooperation with Mason. He suggests that people from Leighton can be stationed in Mason for the long term, and merchants from Mason can also be stationed in Leighton to open shops for the long term."
"Even more, he hopes Mason can dispatch technical artisans to Leighton to guide them. As an exchange, Leighton will fully open the passes and ports leading to the south to Mason. When the time comes, if our business wants to expand to the countries further south, it will be more convenient and faster."
Victor stood at the door, feelings of five flavors mixed in his heart.
My heavens, is this Her Majesty's civilization conquest?
Just a mere box of tooth powder actually made that arrogant country of Leighton voluntarily hand over commercial sovereignty and border passage rights! This kind of method of cultural export driving territorial penetration is simply more terrifying than a hundred thousand iron cavalry sweeping across the plains!
Her Majesty insisted on making this kind of insignificant small item back then; so it turns out that from that time on, the national destiny of Leighton was already dancing at Her Majesty's fingertips!
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