Sophia leaned against the back of her chair, her slender fingertips rhythmically tapping the quarantine zone statistics report on the table.
Although she was a modern Transmigrator who loved slacking off and had an indifferent personality, her observational skills regarding the status of her few core combatants were astoundingly sharp.
"Here it comes again..."
Even though Sophia didn't turn her head, she could feel the abnormally frequent magic fluctuations from the top floor of the West Tower.
She didn't know the specific concept that Daphne was using her as a power bank, but that didn't prevent her from discovering the clues through logical deduction.
Every time Daphne made contact with her under the pretense of "delivering medicine," "palpation," or even "tripping on flat ground," the golden light over at the West Tower would become as rich as if a thousand-watt lightbulb had been installed. The quality of the Potion would also leap directly from having a slight miraculous effect to being able to heal someone almost completely.
"Since just touching hands can double the production, then let her be."
Sophia calmly complained in her heart.
Getting touched a couple of times wouldn't make her lose a piece of flesh, and she could get a Saint in a full magic power state for free. This deal was not a loss.
Meanwhile, on the lower level of the West Tower, Irene was directing the workers in the final packaging.
Due to the large-scale participation of the subjects, the efficiency of this mechanically repetitive rudimentary industrialization was terrifyingly high.
The first and second lines of defense had already been reinforced, and the mask reserves of the Royal City and its surroundings were already overflowing.
"Your Majesty!"
Irene rushed into the Council Hall holding a stack of reports, her pink twin-tails swaying in the air.
"Our storehouses can't hold any more! Although the cost of these things isn't high, if we just keep hoarding them, they'll just be a pile of rotting cloth."
Irene chuckled, a hint of slyness flashing in her azure eyes.
"Since our neighbors in Leighton and Qubi are currently worrying their hair out over the plague, even going so far as to write you those humble letters begging for help, why don't we simply launch a mask diplomacy? We can turn our excess production capacity into gleaming gold coins and the ore we need!"
Upon hearing this, Victor's old eyes instantly lit up from the side, and he once again entered a state of deep thought.
"What perfect economic invasion! Your Majesty not only wants to use civilization to appease the people's hearts but also wants to use productivity to kidnap the neighboring countries' economies!
When all the subjects of Leighton and Qubi are wearing masks printed with the Black Rose crest and drinking the Potion provided by Mason, how much sovereignty will these two countries have left?
Your Majesty is establishing a transnational health hegemony without shedding a single drop of blood!"
"It is feasible."
Sophia took a sip of black tea, her tone flat.
"But there are still quite a few of our Mason merchants and the previously un-withdrawn envoy delegation within Leighton's borders. Those are my Black Rose's eyes out there; we cannot let them collapse first."
She raised her eyes to look out the window.
"First, send a merchant caravan, escorted by the black musket guard, to deliver supplies to the Mason merchants in Leighton. The rest can then be used for trade."
"Your Majesty, please leave this matter to Vasha!"
A clear, cold, and firm voice interrupted everyone's thoughts.
Vasha stepped forward. She had already changed out of that muddy dress and was wearing a neat black and gray waist-cinched uniform.
Although she had just transferred from being a porter to an intelligence position, the fanaticism at the bottom of her eyes, desiring to prove herself, had almost materialized.
"I am familiar with all the secret passages and trade routes leading to Leighton, and I also know where the greed of those garrisons on the Leighton border lies.
Furthermore, if this batch of masks is to be sold to the other two countries, then besides Lord Delilah, another team will inevitably need to be sent.
I already have experience with this."
Vasha knelt on one knee, her tone earnest.
"Since Orr wants to destroy everything through the disease epidemic, then I will personally deliver Mason's hope out there.
As long as Vasha is here, absolutely nothing will go wrong with this batch of masks and the guard."
The air fell silent in that instant.
The hand Delilah had pressing against her sword hilt tightened slightly, her eyes revealing unconcealed suspicion.
Irene also stopped the pen in her hand, her expression somewhat hesitant.
"That is ten thousand thickened masks, as well as enough spare filter patches for an entire legion."
Victor spoke with deliberation, his voice kept very low.
"Not to mention that merchant caravan guard equipped with black muskets.
Miss Vasha, it's not that we don't believe your sincerity, but this batch of supplies is now the lifeline of all countries.
If you... or the former Orr subordinates behind you have any unforeseen changes, what Mason will lose is not just wealth, but our ultimate trump card to check and balance the neighboring countries."
Delilah also sighed:
"We indeed accept your joining, but the bloodline of Orr still flows in your veins.
A former Princess of Orr taking Mason's most elite light-firearm merchant caravan to other countries—this kind of risk is unjustifiable in any military logic."
Everyone's gazes swept in unison toward Sophia.
In their view, this was not merely an escort mission, but the ultimate test of absolute loyalty.
Sophia looked at Vasha, who was kneeling on the ground with her back trembling slightly from nervousness, and then looked at her confidants whose faces were completely written with disapproval.
Sophia habitually rubbed her temples.
If Vasha truly defected at a critical moment, Sophia wasn't actually too worried.
What she worried about was just that if this batch of goods was truly lost, Irene would cry to death, and that international trade dividend would be ruined.
"Allow This Queen to think about it some more."
Sophia lowered her head again, placing her gaze back onto the reports.
Vasha lowered her head, a hint of disappointment flashing through her eyes, but she did not shrink back.
She knew that something like trust in Mason needed to be exchanged with blood or an equivalent battle result.
That taut silence was restored once again within the Council Hall; only the sound of falling snow outside the window remained, quietly awaiting the final verdict of the next move on this chessboard.
Late at night in the Mason Palace, the clamor was thoroughly buried by the falling snow.
The moon wheel was like a clear and cold silver plate, hanging low at the eaves of the West Tower.
Silver radiance poured down along the stone pillars of the long corridor, outlining geometric patterns of interlaced light and shadow on the perfectly smooth Cement floor.
The withered trees in the distance were covered with crystal-clear rime, emitting fine sounds like clashing glazed glass in the gentle breeze.
Sophia, wrapped in thick sleepwear with a fluffed collar, stepped barefoot on the ground, yet she kept feeling a bit of stuffiness in her chest.
She pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the Bedchamber, deciding to take a walk alone in the dark night after curfew.
There were truly too many things recently. Let alone lying flat, she had almost no time to even be alone.
Sophia felt the cold wind outside and let out a long sigh.
Just as she walked down the long corridor, Sophia stopped in her tracks.
On a bluestone at the end of the covered bridge, Vasha was sitting quietly.
She was not wearing that neat uniform, but rather a thin gray robe; her long hair revealed a nearly transparent sorrowfulness under the moonlight.
"Your Majesty."
Upon seeing that flash of silver hair appear, Vasha abruptly stood up as if startled, her shadow instantly covering Sophia's petite frame under the moonlight.
"Why aren't you sleeping yet?"
Sophia looked at her, her pale golden pupils like unadulterated glazed glass under the moonlight.
"I can't sleep."
Vasha slightly lowered her head, her voice appearing exceptionally ethereal in the silent night.
"Those words in the Council Hall are piercing into my mind like ice shards.
I'm afraid that the moment I close my eyes, I'll return to that place in Orr that only treated me as a vase, or... see the disappointed look in Your Majesty's eyes."
She absolutely did not want to go back anymore.
If she previously thought—due to the brainwashing from the Kingdom of Orr since childhood—that she should act like that, and that things like Daphne supposedly deserving to be burned to death still had some reason.
Then, after she had witnessed Mason, all of that was completely overturned.
She was a human being.
Daphne was also a human being.
Those subjects who were starving, freezing, and sick to the point of dying were all human beings.
But all of these were merely ants in Orr, things that could be crushed to death without even exerting any force.
The two sat shoulder to shoulder on the long bench by the corridor.
Sophia casually snapped off a withered branch that extended into the corridor, tracing lines along the edge of the snow.
"Delilah and the others' worries are not without reason.
They hold no malice toward you; you know this."
Sophia spoke indifferently, her tone devoid of any discernible emotion.
"Ten thousand masks, one musketeer squad—that is Mason's current savings.
What are you going to use to exchange for that 'just in case'?"
Vasha fell silent.
The next second, she suddenly slipped off the seat, soundlessly kneeling on one knee before Sophia like an elegant black swan.
"I have no savings, only this life."
Vasha raised her head; the moonlight accurately illuminated the unshed tears at the corners of her eyes.
She reached out that pair of hands covered in red marks, her movements as gentle as if touching the most fragile treasure in the world, and lightly grasped Sophia's ankle exposed outside her sleepwear.
Sophia stiffened slightly, not having time to pull back yet.
Vasha lowered her eyes. Her fingers caressed that skin, which appeared as white as jade from years of living in luxury, tracing down the beautiful and slender lines of her calf, and slowly took off that fluffy slipper on Sophia's foot.
"Your Majesty..."
Reflected in Sophia's slightly shrinking pupils, Vasha cupped her left foot, which was like carved ivory.
Sophia's toes curled slightly due to the cold, her toes revealing a faint pink hue like pearls.
Vasha took a deep breath, as if wanting to sniff out the last trace of fragrance from the Black Rose, and then solemnly and piously bent down, her slightly cool lips lightly pressing against the tip of Sophia's slender toes.
That was a kiss possessing extreme oppressiveness, yet also humble to the extreme.
Her pleading gaze looked at Sophia, as if with just a single word from the Girl Tyrant before her, she could immediately humble herself into the dust and never be seen again.
Sophia looked down at Vasha from above.
From her perspective, the curve of Vasha's slender neck extended into her collar under the moonlight, where there was a red mark dug out by boxes when she was carrying goods in the epidemic area.
"Your Majesty, I beg you, I beg you to believe me.
I am willing to swear on my life to be forever loyal to you."
Sophia slightly exerted force with the tip of her toes, pressing against Vasha's chin, forcing her to lift that face written full of a morbid loyalty.
"Vasha."
Sophia's voice remained clear and cold, yet in this late night, it gained a trace of a bewitching huskiness.
"Since you are even willing to crush your dignity, then This Queen shall give you this chance.
If this batch of goods is lost, you don't have to return to Orr; This Queen will personally sew you into those discarded linens."
"Thank you, Your Majesty, for granting my wish."
Vasha closed her eyes, the teardrops finally falling with peace of mind from the corners of her eyes.
She lowered her head and lightly kissed that white instep once more, as if she had received a medal leading to heaven.
Under the shadow of this tranquil, picturesque moonlight, several auras that absolutely shouldn't have overlapped at this moment were currently huddled quietly together behind a pillar at the other end of the corridor.
"Let go of me! I'm going to hack that woman with ulterior motives to pieces!"
Delilah's suppressed-to-the-extreme roar carried an almost materialized murderous intent. Her hand was locked in a death grip on the sword hilt, her finger joints letting out 'cracking' sounds from excessive force.
If not for the two pairs of hands beside her desperately tugging at her cape and arm, this God of War of Mason would probably have already transformed into an afterimage, delivering a clean physical decapitation to Vasha under the moonlight right now.
"Calm down, Lord Delilah! Calm down!"
Willow's entire person was almost hanging onto Delilah's left arm, her pretty face flushed red from the exertion.
"That's just... that's just Miss Vasha expressing her loyalty!
This is probably a very serious ritual!"
"Ritual? What ritual requires kissing Your Majesty's toes?!"
Delilah was so angry her eyes were practically shooting fire, her breathing as ragged as if she had just run ten kilometers.
"Is that a place she can touch? I've followed Your Majesty for so long, and even when helping Your Majesty tie her cape, I have to be comprehensively polite. She actually... she actually dared to get handsy with Your Majesty!"
"She wasn't getting handsy, Lord Delilah, please calm down!"
"She indeed wasn't getting handsy, she was using her mouth!"
Meanwhile, on Delilah's right side, Daphne, who was responsible for pulling the cape, was currently in an extremely bizarre state.
This Lord Saint, who had just exhausted her magic power in the West Tower, was staring blankly at that highly visually impactful scene under the moonlight.
The tall Vasha prostrated herself humbly, while the petite Sophia was like a god controlling all living beings, allowing the other party to kiss her white, jade-like toes.
Daphne's brain buzzed, as if some obsolete logic circuit had been instantly burned out and forcibly welded with new components.
"So... is that how it is?"
Due to excessive shock, Daphne's voice appeared somewhat floaty.
"I thought touching hands and hugging was the limit of energy replenishment...
So it turns out that this kind of area is the most concentrated source of magic power?
Kissing the toes... Could it produce a nuclear fission-level magic power amplification?"
"What nonsense are you spouting, Miss Daphne?!"
Willow found the time amidst her busy struggle to interject with a complaint, before continuing to soothe that enraged lioness.
"Lord Delilah, look at Your Majesty's eyes; that's scrutiny!
That is a condescending control!
In Your Majesty's eyes, Vasha is nothing more than a tool that is currently being branded."
"Even a tool is unacceptable!"
Delilah looked at Vasha's expression of having hit the jackpot, so sour that her gums were itching.
"I can be a tool too! I can be branded too! Why should she get to?!"
"That is defilement! That is blasphemy!"
Delilah's lowered voice carried an almost explosive sourness.
"She didn't even lay a clean piece of silk on that stone before daring to let Your Majesty sit like that...
And she actually directly... Doesn't she know it's a high-incidence period for the epidemic?! What if she caused Your Majesty's beautiful feet to be contaminated with the virus?!"
Willow, while strenuously tugging at Delilah's belt to prevent her from rushing out to deal a finishing blow, helplessly sighed.
"Lord Delilah, the main point right now isn't the hygiene issue, right?
The main point is that Miss Vasha has already handed her life over.
Look, didn't Your Majesty ultimately agree to let her lead the team?"
"I can hand my life over too!"
Delilah abruptly turned her head; those originally murderous eyes surprisingly surfaced a trace of grievance at this moment.
"I've even written three suicide notes and placed them in Your Majesty's secret compartment! Why does that woman from Orr get to use this kind of... this kind of shameless method?!"
____
________________________________________
🌸 Help Love Bloom!
Our girls need a little push... and you can help!
💖 Gift for Everyone: Once we hit 100 Powerstones, I'll release +1 bonus chapter to warm your hearts.
🚀 Community Reward: If we reach 20 supporting members, we'll have a +5 chapter marathon across all stories! The romance won't stop.
👻 Come to our secret corner: Search for GirlsLove on (P). You know that's where the magic happens... 😉