Daphne stood before the mirror, looking at her restored rosy complexion, and then looked at those few bottles of Potion whose quality could be called Divine Miracles.
As a rigorous Magical Girl, she came to a conclusion: Your Majesty's hands were the strongest source of magic power in this world.
For Mason, for epidemic prevention, for saving the common people... it was absolutely not because Your Majesty's hands were cool, soft, and very comfortable!
Daphne patted her burning cheeks, took a deep breath, and decided to begin her experiment.
"Your Majesty, this is the newly extracted... uh, Refreshing Wild Berry Dew."
Carrying the tray, Daphne slipped into the Council Hall like a light and graceful cat.
Sophia was currently lowering her head, correcting the quarantine zone reports sent over by Valery. Upon hearing this, she merely gave a faint "mm" and naturally reached out her hand to take the cup.
Here it comes!
Daphne did not politely offer the saucer as usual, but instead directly grasped the body of the cup.
When Sophia's fingertips touched the other side of the cup, Daphne, seemingly unintentionally, pushed it forward a bit.
"Ah."
Daphne let out an extremely light cry of surprise, her fingertips accurately covering the back of Sophia's hand.
One second, two seconds...
Feeling the exhaustion on her body gradually disappear and her magic power beginning to brim, Daphne was incredibly excited.
Here it comes! It was exactly this feeling!
That energy that was like magma yet also like the stars... Wu, so abundant. I feel like my current magic power could paint the entire Palace golden!
Sophia raised her head, her pale golden pupils filled with doubt.
"Daphne, why are your hands shaking? The cup is about to fall over."
Sophia looked at this Saint before her, whose face was so red it was almost emitting steam, feeling somewhat puzzled.
What was going on? Could it be that this wild berry dew could spontaneously combust?
Did it burn her hands? But this cup was clearly chilled.
Or was she running a fever? Had she fainted from exhaustion?
Daphne did not speak. After delivering the item and offering a few implicit and warm words to Sophia, she swiftly ran back to the top floor of the West Tower.
The first wave of energy replenishment was quickly depleted during Daphne's frantic Potion-brewing process.
Daphne, having exhausted her magic power, leaned against the back of her chair. Looking at her weak hands, her mind felt incomparably empty as she thought of Your Majesty's face.
Daphne quickly came up with her next excuse.
Two hours later, holding a silk ribbon, she appeared before Sophia once again.
"Your Majesty, this minister has discovered... that Orr's toxin is extremely cunning; it might lie dormant on the surface of the skin."
Daphne wore a serious expression, even carrying a trace of bluffing piety.
"Although Your Majesty has a precious body, this minister still believes that a magical palpation is needed to help you eliminate those impurities invisible to the naked eye."
Sophia raised an eyebrow.
"Palpation? This Queen remembers that Willow just helped This Queen disinfect."
"No, that was physical disinfection. This minister's method is magic power resonance purification!"
Daphne's eyes were completely sincere, even carrying a hint of coaxing.
"Please extend your hands, Your Majesty. This minister needs to press on the webbing between your thumb and index finger, as well as your palms, to sense that dormant malice."
Sophia extended her hands, half-doubting.
She didn't feel in the slightest that Daphne would do anything strange, even though she had indeed seen Daphne more times today than usual.
But Sophia merely treated this as Daphne being relatively worried about her because of the epidemic outside.
Daphne immediately, as if clutching at a life-saving straw, tightly wrapped her two small hands around Sophia's palms. Her fingertips rubbed against Sophia's warm and smooth palms, and she even closed her eyes in a plausible manner, as if truly searching for something.
Wu... Your Majesty's hands are truly so comfortable. This clear and cold aura transmits through the palms and spreads to the entire body, numbing and refreshing.
I feel like the current me could hand-rub a hundred bottles of Potion in one breath!
How was this a check-up? This was simply the Saint's charging station!
Sophia expressionlessly watched Daphne's wing-like hair, which was trembling slightly from the excitement of being charged too intensely, feeling somewhat speechless.
Although Sophia didn't understand medical arts, she felt that Daphne was playing her.
Who checks a body by kneading the palms like kneading dough?
Furthermore, why did that look in her eyes resemble someone who had starved for three days looking at braised pork?
Just as Daphne couldn't bear to let go, Willow pushed the door open and entered.
"Your Majesty, Lord Irene's masks... uh."
Willow paused.
She saw Daphne gripping Your Majesty's hands with hazy eyes, while Your Majesty wore an expression of caring for the mentally impaired.
Daphne was startled and hurriedly let go, but due to the physical incoordination caused by the sudden overcharging of magic power, her foot slipped, and her entire person directly lunged into Sophia's embrace.
"Your Majesty, I'm sorry!"
Daphne's entire face was completely buried into that thick and soft black fox fur, and her hands subconsciously hugged Sophia's waist.
In that instant, she felt as if her entire person had fallen into an ocean of energy; that sense of satisfaction made her unable to resist rubbing against the fox fur.
So slender... ah no, so comfortable.
At this moment, the light source on the top floor of the West Tower seemed to have brightened by three degrees.
This was completely taken in by Victor, who just happened to be passing by the door to deliver official documents.
What a touching scene this was!
Lord Saint, for the sake of Mason, had already weakened to the point of not even being able to stand steadily, yet she still insisted on guarding by Your Majesty's side.
And Your Majesty was using her broad bosom and unfathomable imperial aura to personally provide support for the Saint!
This kind of civilization resonance that did not distinguish between you and me was currently being transformed into life-saving Potions through the Saint's body!
Your Majesty was not only a physical monarch; she was even more so a spiritual Mother Goddess, currently using her own origin power to nurture Mason's miracle!
"Enough."
Sophia expressionlessly lifted Daphne by the back of her collar, like lifting a cat that had stolen fish.
"Have you finished brewing the medicine?"
"It's finished! No, I can brew another five hundred portions! I feel my entire body filled with strength right now!"
At this time, Daphne's eyes were shining brightly, her original exhaustion swept clean away.
She gave Sophia a deep bow, and then skipped towards the laboratory, her speed so fast that it left behind golden afterimages.
Sophia lowered her head and looked at her palms, and then looked at that heavy door which had been cheerfully closed by Daphne.
"Your Majesty, what is with Miss Daphne?"
Willow looked somewhat puzzled at Daphne's skipping appearance, a bit of hesitation on her face.
"I don't know what she's up to," Sophia said, her fingers unconsciously tapping against the table. "She has already come over several times today to deliver various supplements and wild berry juice.
After I couldn't drink anymore, she simply came directly talking about some palpation.
I just feel something isn't quite right."
Looking at Daphne's disappearing back, Willow couldn't suppress the smile at the corners of her mouth no matter what.
She gently stepped forward and replaced Sophia's cup with warm black tea, her tone carrying a trace of teasing gentleness.
"Your Majesty, this servant feels that Lord Saint might just be too tired.
Having fought all alone in that kind of world for so long, and finally having found a reliable harbor like you, it's inevitable that she would want to seek a bit more spiritual solace.
This is probably the same principle as Miss Irene always wanting to dive into your embrace on normal days."
Sophia picked up the teacup, her fingertips still able to feel the residual warmth left from being "charged" by Daphne just now.
Spiritual solace?
"Let them be."
Sophia took a sip of the black tea, her eyes regaining their coldness.
"As long as they can crush that damn virus to death for This Queen, even if they want to treat This Queen as a hugging pillow, This Queen will accept it."
Delilah, who was guarding in the back, after hearing this sentence, considered the possibility of herself abandoning martial arts to study medicine right now.
Just as the Mason Palace was immersed in this bizarre yet warm atmosphere, that gift carrying Sophia's extreme mockery finally crossed the ice-sealed borders and arrived at the capital city of the Kingdom of Orr.
Inside the Council Hall of the Kingdom of Orr, the atmosphere was so oppressive it was suffocating.
The air was permeated with the bitter stench of burning cheap mugwort; that was the clumsy product of their attempt to imitate Mason while only learning the superficialities.
The King of Orr sat on the throne, looking aged and sinister. Due to the spread of the epidemic, his territory was already filled with the cries of the suffering.
He was waiting—waiting for Sophia to kneel and beg for mercy, waiting for that Witch to be obediently sent back, waiting for his conspiracy to finally reap the fruits of Mason.
"Report—!
Your Majesty! The secret envoy sent to Mason has returned!"
As a spy, completely disheveled and missing half a sleeve, stumbled and rushed into the hall, the Old King abruptly stood up, his eyes flashing with a fanatical light.
"Has Sophia yielded? Where is Daphne?"
The spy tremblingly took out a letter from his chest, along with a piece of drawing paper that had been neatly folded.
"Sophia said this is a letter for you.
She also said... afraid that you might catch the disease, she specifically sent you a special edition shield."
The Old King impatiently tore open the envelope.
The sarcasm between the lines, akin to sharp knives, made the veins on his temples throb once with every line he read.
When he read "Miss Vasha dealt with the domestic thief cleanly" and "sending you a mask to cover your twisted face," his chest was already heaving violently.
"Where is the mask? Where is the divine object she sent?"
The spy tremblingly unfolded the second piece of paper.
The entire hall fell dead silent.
On it, there were no Potions at all, nor was there any expensive protection.
There was only an extremely comical mask pattern sketched out by Irene using simple strokes.
Beside it, a line of text was considerately annotated:
"Given the emptiness of Orr's National Treasury, this paper-version mask is solely for spiritual defense.
Please stick it on your forehead and silently recite 'Long live Sophia' three times daily, and it will ensure that the disease evil cannot enter."
"Pfft——!"
A mouthful of foul blood that the King of Orr had been holding back in his chest finally sprayed out before that piece of waste paper drawn with a mask.
He tightly grasped that drawing, his finger joints turning bruised-blue due to anger.
"Provocation... this is a blatant provocation!"
He roared, his voice so hoarse it sounded as if it had been ground against sandpaper.
"She actually made Vasha betray me! That Witch Daphne also allows herself to be ordered about by her!
She actually used a piece of waste paper to humiliate Orr's royal authority!
Sophia... you bastard!"
He looked at the group of ministers around him who similarly revealed expressions of panic.
The moment those ministers saw that not even a mask was given, but rather a drawing was sent, their inner lines of defense thoroughly collapsed.
Mason had medicine, had masks, had the Holy Light, while their King had only exchanged for a piece of waste paper.
The Old King's body swayed, the scene before his eyes beginning to spin.
He originally hoped to re-establish hegemony through this plague, but he never expected that Sophia would directly crumple his "hegemony" into a ball and treat it as a rag to wipe tables.
"Pass down the order... cough!
Order the entire army to attack Mason—"
Before his words had finished falling, the Old King's eyes went black, and his entire person planted face-first straight down from the high throne, convulsing and passing out cold upon that piece of paper drawn with a mask.
The old ministers of the Kingdom of Orr who witnessed all of this, however, produced an extremely absurd mental image in their minds at this time.
The old ministers of Orr were horrified.
Too terrifying...
Inside the Council Hall of the Kingdom of Orr, the dead silence was rapidly replaced by a burst of clamor sufficient to overturn the roof.
The muffled thud of the Old King planting face-first onto the ground was like a heavy hammer, thoroughly smashing to pieces the composure the ministers had forcibly maintained.
That robe inlaid with gemstones was now stained full of his own foul blood, and half of his face was pressed firmly against that comical paper mask; this scene was so absurd that it made one feel a bone-piercing chill.
"Your Majesty! Quickly summon the Royal Physician!"
"Lock down the news! We absolutely cannot let the lowly commoners outside know that His Majesty has had a stroke!"
"Quick, someone come!"
Two Royal Guard commanders lifted the Old King up in a frantic flurry, yet that drawing paper soaked with blood surprisingly seemed to possess some kind of stickiness, stubbornly refusing to detach from the King's face no matter what.
On one side of the hall, the complexions of the several Princes fluctuated unpredictably.
The First Prince tightly gripped the sword at his waist, a touch of ruthlessness flashing in his eyes, while the Second Prince quietly retreated half a step, his gaze wandering over that crumpled letter.
"This is no longer a provocation; this is an execution.
Sophia didn't even dispatch a single soldier, merely using a piece of waste paper to make Orr's monarch convulse on the ground like a dying fish.
Was this kind of precise manipulation of emotions also within her calculations?"
"We must deploy the troops!"
The First Prince violently slammed the armrest; due to excessive tension, his voice was somewhat shrill.
"That little fox of Mason has already stepped onto Orr's spine!
If we don't trample Mason flat, Orr will become the laughingstock of the entire continent!"
"Deploy troops? Deploy what troops?"
A minister in charge of finances sneered and stepped forward, his hands also trembling slightly.
"Your Highness the First Prince, please go and take a look at the military camp.
Thirty percent of the soldiers are currently lying on straw mats coughing up blood, and the remaining seventy percent don't even have masks, only able to plug their noses with that moldy mugwort.
Going to attack the heavily-supplied and highly-morale Mason at a time like this, do you want them to die of illness halfway there, or go deliver their heads to Sophia?"
"That is His Majesty's decree! He had already issued the order before he fainted!"
"His Majesty was driven mad by anger!"
The Old Chancellor finally spoke up, his pair of murky eyes filled with despair.
"If we go to war now, will Leighton and Qubi stand by and watch?
Sophia's reply letter stated very clearly that she had already planted informants in those two countries.
The moment we mobilize our main forces, the borders will immediately fall."
The Council Hall fell into a fierce argument.
The radical faction believed that they must divert the domestic public resentment brought about by the plague through war.
The moderate faction believed that they should temporarily bow their heads to Mason, even if it meant begging for those legendary "masks" and "Potions".
"Have you all not realized?"
An old minister pointed at that bloodstained drawing paper, his voice trembling.
"Sophia is using our pride.
She knew the King would get angry; she knew we would fall into chaos.
By sending this drawing, she wants to make us mutually slaughter each other between dignity and our lives."
This realization sent a chill down everyone's spines.
Compared to the epidemic, this suffocating feeling of being toyed with in the palm of the enemy's hand made one even more despairing.
"Your Highness the First Prince, please think thrice."
The Old Chancellor let out a deep sigh.
"The current Mason is no longer that mess that could be crushed to death at will.
That girl named Irene can turn scrap iron into divine artifacts, and that young girl named Daphne can bring the dead back to life.
And us... we can't even sew a single mask capable of preventing the disease."
Ultimately, due to the Old King falling into a coma, the military order to attack Mason was temporarily shelved.
But everyone in the Kingdom of Orr was clear that this was not peace, but rather a kind of powerless waiting.
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