Following Daphne's exclamation, the glob of liquid light circulating in her palm—which presented a bizarre deep purple hue—gradually solidified, ultimately transforming into several bottles of Potion held in transparent crystal vials.
Reflecting the firelight, the Potion emitted a faint fluorescence, as if some unknown spirit was imprisoned within.
"Delilah, take the Potion and go to the labor camp outside."
Sophia lightly tapped the tabletop with her fingertips, her tone calm yet unquestionable.
"Tell those 'lords' that This Queen pities their frail bodies and grants special permission to remove their heavy refined iron shackles.
But in exchange, they must be carved with Mason's mark.
Once their atonement is complete, Lord Saint will use magic to remove the mark."
"Accepting the decree."
Delilah took the Potion bottles, a chilling, murderous arc hooking the corners of her mouth.
When Delilah arrived at the square leading a squad of fully armed black musketeers, the old nobles who were originally carrying stone materials and complaining bitterly one after another stopped their movements.
When they heard that their shackles were going to be removed, a greed bordering on ecstasy instantly erupted upon those faces covered in dust and sweat.
"Your Majesty is wise! Your Majesty is wise!"
"These damned iron chains chafed my ankles raw ages ago. I knew it, this Queen ultimately still respects our noble status!"
An old Marquis bobbed his head and bowed as he extended his hands, while inwardly calculating how to use the secret passages to escape once the iron chains were removed.
However, the warmth he anticipated did not arrive.
Delilah was in no rush to smash open the iron locks. Instead, she had the soldiers press down on these people's shoulders, forcing them to kneel on the icy stone slabs.
She opened the Potion bottle, dipped a specially made quill pen fully into the deep purple Potion, and with flamboyant, sweeping strokes, wrote four large words squarely in the center of every noble's forehead and on the back of their right hands.
[Mason Sinner]
The moment the Potion touched their skin, there was no burning sensation. Instead, it brought a piercing, bone-deep chill, as if an ice needle had pierced through their pores straight into their souls.
"What is this? Is this the mark?"
The old Earl looked at the purple writing on the back of his hand—so clear it was almost hideous—his face full of suspicion.
"It's just some ink. Once we finish this work in a few days and escape to the Kingdom of Leighton, we can just wash it off."
The soldiers sneered as they stepped forward, nimbly smashing open all the shackles.
The heavy iron chains crashed to the ground, letting out crisp rings, simultaneously taking away these nobles' final shreds of reverence.
Having regained their "freedom," the nobles began their escape rehearsals that very night.
Inside the dim tents of the labor camp, several old nobles huddled together, frantically splashing water onto the backs of their hands and faces.
"Quick! Scrub it with sand! I don't believe this thing won't wash off!"
"The things made by that Witch Saint are definitely just cheap parlor tricks!"
"Even though it looks clear, like it's branded into the flesh and bone, what kind of paint can't be washed off with water?"
However, something that terrified them occurred.
Whether they rubbed it with coarse gravel, scrubbed it frantically with strong industrial lye soap stolen from the back kitchen, or even ruthlessly tried to scratch that layer of skin off with sharp fingernails, nothing had any effect.
Those four purple words were like they had grown straight out of their bones.
Every time they scrubbed vigorously, not only did the writing fail to blur, but due to the skin's hyperemia, it would emit a faint golden glow. It appeared exceptionally glaring in the darkness, as if silently mocking their stupidity.
"It won't wash off... It really... won't wash off!"
"This isn't a Potion at all, this is a curse!
It's that Witch's curse!"
A noble collapsed to the ground in a breakdown, staring at the mark symbolizing a "sinner" on the back of his hand.
Only at this moment did they thoroughly realize that Sophia had discarded the heavy refined iron, yet clamped a shackle onto them that they could never break free from for the rest of their lives—a shackle named Mason.
Victor overlooked those nobles descending into madness and despair from the balcony, his pen tip leaving marks on the parchment scroll that pierced through the paper:
What divine humor! Your Majesty has abandoned primitive violence and instead pursued a supreme realm known as social execution!
Look at the dregs of the old era; they thought removing the iron chains meant regaining freedom, completely unaware that Your Majesty had slapped a permanent label upon the windows to their souls.
As long as this mark exists for a single day, even if they flee to the ends of the sea, they will eternally remain Your Majesty's prisoners.
Lord Saint Daphne's Potion is not merely colorfast liquid drops; it is the extension of Your Majesty's will.
It declares this Truth: under Mason's rule, all hypocrisy and betrayal will be completely exposed to the sunlight, impossible to hide, and with nowhere to wash clean!
Inside the Bedchamber, Sophia watched Daphne—who, due to excessive magic power consumption, was sprawling on the table without any regard for her image, pestering Sophia to stroke her hands—while mentally reviewing this marking experiment.
The effect was even better than imagined.
This kind of magic-integrated anti-counterfeiting label was low in cost and extremely high in recognizability.
Vasha's side would also need this kind of thing to distinguish the subjects willing to submit from the remnants stubbornly resisting.
However, right now, Daphne was too lazy to even find an excuse. It seemed physical contact truly had some sort of linked relationship with her magic.
Sophia massaged her sore wrist, her gaze sweeping out the window toward the subjects slowly recovering in the Holy Light.
The nights in the City of Hill were no longer silent.
The firelight outside the city intertwined with the work chants of the construction inside, declaring that this ancient capital was undergoing an agonizing yet restorative rebirth.
Inside the Bedchamber, Daphne was like a languid cat, pushing her luck by resting her chin on Sophia's knee, both hands tightly gripping Sophia's right hand and refusing to let go.
"Your Majesty, touch my hand, my magic power really recovers faster..."
Daphne closed her eyes, the tip of her nose lightly sniffing the faint, cool fragrance on the black fox fur, her tone full of the slight smugness of having gotten her way.
Sophia watched this scammer Saint expressionlessly. Then, she let out a sigh and turned the pages of the book in front of her.
Standing behind them hugging her sword, Delilah impatiently tapped her fingers against the scabbard.
She regretted it, truly.
That night, she should have charged out from behind the rock and slashed Vasha with a single sword strike, and then slashed this Saint—who was putting on an act to stop her—with another.
"Reporting—!!!"
The hurried footsteps of a black musket guard shattered the Bedchamber's coziness.
"Your Majesty! An urgent report from the city gate guards!
The joint envoy delegation from the Kingdom of Leighton and the Kingdom of Qubi has arrived ten miles outside the City of Hill. They brought a large batch of heavy gifts, claiming to be entrusted by the monarchs of the two kingdoms to present country-annihilating congratulatory gifts to the Master of Mason!"
Sophia raised an eyebrow slightly, gently pulling her hand free from Daphne's grasp.
"Leighton and Qubi? These two acted quite fast."
In reality, the envoys of these two countries had set out a long time ago.
The cause was that the Potion Sophia previously provided had cured the rampant epidemic within their countries. The King of Leighton and the King of Qubi deeply felt that this Queen of Mason not only possessed tyrannical martial prowess but also commanded Divine Miracles-like medical skills.
Thus, the two countries coincidentally dispatched envoys to Mason Royal City, preparing to bring heavy gifts to farm a wave of goodwill.
However, when they rushed to Mason Royal City covered in sweat, what they met was the Chancellor left behind to guard the home, Valery.
Two days prior, inside the Council Hall of Mason Royal City.
The Leighton envoy:
"Respected Lord Chancellor, may I ask where Your Majesty Sophia is?
We have come bearing our King's most sincere gratitude and congratulatory gifts."
Valery, wearing a crisp uniform, was elegantly flipping through a battle report. Hearing this, he merely took a casual sip of tea and replied faintly:
"Oh, Lord Envoys have come at an inopportune time.
Your Majesty felt the weather has been too cold recently and wanted to go elsewhere for a change of scenery.
"By the way, the Kingdom of Orr over there has been a bit restless lately. Your Majesty felt that piece of land was quite nice, so she conveniently brought troops over... to take over for a bit."
The golden goblet in the Qubi envoy's hand dropped straight to the floor:
"T-Take over?
Orr has thousands of elites, and the Lock of the North Fortress..."
Valery glanced at his pocket watch, revealing a humblebragging expression of regret:
"Calculating the time, that Orr old man should have already turned to ashes yesterday afternoon.
That place is no longer called Orr; it's called the City of Hill.
"If you two are interested, you don't need to return to your countries. Just head two hundred miles north, and you can see our Your Majesty there."
The envoys of the two countries were so terrified right then that their hearts nearly stopped.
Wiping out an established kingdom with deep foundations was as easy as changing residences in Valery's mouth?
Thus, the two envoy delegations dispatched fast horses overnight to send news back to their countries.
The two kings, amidst their terror, practically emptied the treasures hidden at the bottom of their National Treasuries, commanding the envoys:
"Quick! At all costs, before Your Majesty Sophia gets in the mood to kill us too, send the gifts over!"
When the Leighton and Qubi envoys stepped into the City of Hill under the lead of the guards, their worldviews were once again shattered.
The scene of a destroyed country they had originally envisioned should have been littered with corpses and rivers of blood. Yet what presented itself before their eyes was:
A square as bright as day, where soldiers maintained strict discipline distributing food beside countless massive bonfires.
Absurdly clean streets, where even the bloodstains in the crevices of the walls had been scrubbed clean, emitting a bizarre yet fresh soap fragrance.
The scene that terrified them the most was a group of Orr nobles they had once met at diplomatic functions. At this moment, with bizarre purple writing carved on their foreheads and the backs of their hands, they were profusely sweating as they carried stone blocks, their eyes revealing an obedience born of despair.
"Is that... Earl Marr?"
The Leighton envoy wiped his sweat, his voice trembling.
"What is written on his forehead?"
"Ma... Mason Sinner."
The Qubi envoy only felt a chill run down his spine.
"That is Divine Punishment.
The Witch under Your Majesty Sophia can carve words directly onto a person's soul.
"As long as those words remain, they will never be able to escape the palm of Your Majesty's hand."
"Summon the Leighton and Qubi envoys into the hall."
Sophia had already changed into sharp everyday attire by this time, sitting upon the black stone throne in the Main Hall.
The black fox fur was loosely draped over her shoulders. That overbearing, arrogant aura of oppression caused the envoys entering the hall to directly perform a double-leg collapse.
"Thud!"
"The envoy of the Kingdom of Leighton pays respects to the great Master of Mason, Sower of Civilization, and Ruler of the Black Rose, Your Majesty Sophia!"
The two envoys lay flat on the ground, their foreheads pressed tightly against the floor tiles, not even daring to look up.
"The King of Orr acted against the natural order, seeking his own destruction.
For Your Majesty to use such thunderous methods to pacify the chaos is truly a blessing for the surrounding nations!
We officials have prepared meager gifts, wishing to offer a token of our sincerity for the completion of Your Majesty's new city."
Following that, chest after chest of treasures was carried in:
Fifty plump plowing oxen from the Kingdom of Leighton, fifty rolls of fine spun silk, and two chests of precious spices.
Thirty chests of premium sea salt from the Kingdom of Qubi, ten chests of assorted gemstones, and a ceremonial scepter inlaid with aquamarine.
This was practically all the mobilized resources these two countries had left.
A single epidemic had caused both countries to exhaust everything. If it weren't for Sophia's Potion, the casualties in these two nations would only have been greater.
At best, they estimated they could only have resorted to measures they wished to do the least to resolve it.
Victor sat in the shadows, his pen tip leaving frantic afterimages on the parchment scroll:
What grand aura of a hegemon!
Your Majesty did not even issue a single diplomatic missive; relying solely on a gaze that annihilated a nation, she caused the neighboring states within a hundred miles to tremble and surrender.
Lord Valery's moving house theory was actually the perfect overflow of Your Majesty's will.
In Your Majesty's eyes, the changing of territories is nothing but the natural migration of civilization.
The subservience of these envoys is the most powerful endorsement of Your Majesty's Black Rose Order.
What Leighton and Qubi delivered were not just gifts, but their submission to the birth of a new god!
Sophia looked at the hall full of tributes, her heart devoid of any ripples, even beginning to calculate the exchange rates.
Sea salt? Exactly what Mason's 'greenhouses' needed to pickle food.
Plowing oxen? Once spring arrived, the large-scale farming here would be in desperate need of labor force.
It seemed that by destroying this roadblock named Orr, the surrounding trade routes were completely opened up.
Sophia slowly raised her hand, her tone flat:
"I accept your sincerity.
Tell your kings, as long as they guard their borders properly and don't engage in childish petty tricks, Mason's gates of trade will eternally remain open to the law-abiding."
"Thank Your Majesty for your immense grace!" The envoys felt as if they had been granted a great pardon.
As the envoy delegations from Leighton and Qubi fearfully withdrew from the Main Hall, Sophia massaged her slightly stiff shoulders.
After the banquet hosting the envoys, all arrangements for the City of Hill had been settled.
The trivial government affairs following the annihilation of a nation were far more headache-inducing than charging the front lines. Fortunately, Vasha had swiftly slipped into the role, and this land was finally branded with the mark of the Black Rose.
"Willow, pack our things."
Sophia gazed out the window at the deepening snow beginning to accumulate, her gaze distant.
"Tell Delilah to leave two hundred soldiers to garrison the City of Hill and assist Vasha.
The rest of the troops will set out early tomorrow morning and return triumphantly to the capital."
Willow, who was organizing official documents, stopped her pen, somewhat surprised:
"Your Majesty, are we not waiting for the snow to stop?"
"We're not waiting."
Sophia stood up, the black fox fur tracing an elegant arc in the air.
"The Year-End Festival is in just a few days.
Although the winter here is long and dull, Valery is still waiting for us in the Royal City, and the subjects there are also waiting for the news of this great victory.
"Moreover, the soldiers also want to celebrate the new year with their families."
She had heard the soldiers say they missed their families.
Many soldiers had joined later, so a few months ago, they were still in their own homes.
In the world Sophia originally came from, this point in time usually signified the Spring Festival travel rush, dumplings, and firecrackers.
Although the Year-End Festival in this medieval fantasy world was more like some sort of religious prayer and carnival, that instinctual longing for reunion transcended the soul.
The next day, at the main gate of the City of Hill.
Vasha, dressed in a sharp long dress with a dark cloak draped over it, led a group of original officials of the City of Hill to see them off.
Her eyes were slightly red, but her back was perfectly straight. The shadow of her former cowering beneath the gloom of the old Palace had completely vanished.
"Your Majesty, this minister will definitely not fail your heavy trust.
When you descend upon the City of Hill once again, this place will absolutely be the most prosperous pearl of the Northern border."
Vasha knelt on one knee, bowing her head deeply.
Sophia, sitting on her pure white warhorse, merely gave a faint nod:
"This Queen dislikes hearing heroic vows.
Guard the gates here well, and feed the stomachs here well.
If those marked sinners slack off, there is no need to report back; directly increase their punishment."
"Yes!" Vasha responded, her voice crisp and resolute.
Under the escort of a thousand elite infantrymen, dozens of carriages fully loaded with spoils of war slowly set off.
The plowing oxen gifted by Leighton were fitted with heavy harnesses, pulling heavy loads of sea salt and gemstones.
Qubi's fine spun silk was wrapped beneath tarpaulins, becoming the topic the soldiers boasted about most proudly on the journey home.
Victor sat on the slowly moving carriage. Despite the bumps, the quill pen in his hand still flew as nimbly as ever:
Triumph!
Your Majesty did not indulge in the vanity of a conqueror.
Within that great divinity, the victory at the City of Hill is merely a small piece of the puzzle of civilization.
Amidst that sky full of heavy snow, the flag of the Black Rose did not shrink due to the cold, but instead became even more vibrant because of the nourishment of an additional city behind it.
Your Majesty returning with fully loaded supplies and supreme majesty is feeding a reassurance pill to every subject of Mason.
Before the 'Year-End Festival' descends, Your Majesty will use the annihilation of a nation as the heaviest congratulatory hymn dedicated to Mason's new year!
"Your Majesty, when we return to the Royal City, can we have a different kind of 'Year-End Festival'?"
Irene rode her horse close to the carriage window, chewing on a piece of meat jerky, her eyes shining brightly.
"I want to make a Black powder device that can fly into the sky and explode into colorful lights!
The kind that goes 'bang' and can be seen by the entire city!"
Sophia helplessly massaged her forehead from inside the carriage: "Are we really doing that? Irene."
The subjects here had never seen such things; they would probably be frightened.
And it would probably consume a lot of Black powder.
"Yes, yes, yes!
Let's just call them fireworks! Also, can we boil those white dough dumplings hollowed out in the middle and stuffed with meat? That thing... dumplings?"
Irene licked her lips, "And also, I think sea salt mixed with salted beef would definitely be delicious."
Daphne also leaned over, Holy Light dancing at her fingertips, warm and cozy.
"Your Majesty, this minister wants to activate a massive Holy Light barrier in the Palace Square to raise the temperature a bit, so even if there aren't as many bonfires, it won't be too cold!"
Listening to the whimsical ideas of this group of "eccentric confidants," the corners of Sophia's mouth unconsciously curled up slightly.
Even though she was in another world, and even though she had just annihilated a country, this feeling of excitement to 'celebrate the new year' hadn't changed at all.
At dusk two days later, the silhouette of Mason Royal City finally faintly appeared amidst the wind and snow.
At the city gate, the Chancellor Valery, who had stayed behind, was already waiting there with two neat lines of honor guards.
He still maintained that spotless appearance.
As the vanguard cavalry shouted that Your Majesty had returned in triumph, the entire Mason Royal City instantly plunged into a boiling state.
The subjects spontaneously flooded the streets. Watching the endless line of plowing oxen and supplies hauled back by the carriages, their cheers nearly shattered the clouds.
"Your Majesty."
Valery walked up to the carriage, bowed slightly, and elegantly pulled open the carriage door.
"The Year-End hearth fire has already been lit, and the warehouses for the sea salt and plowing oxen have also been emptied.
Welcome home, Master of Mason."
Sophia stepped out of the carriage. Looking at her own territory—prosperous as ever, and even more bustling due to the approaching end of the year—she let out a long breath of white mist.
"Valery, make preparations.
For this year's Year-End Festival, This Queen wants all Mason subjects to taste the flavors of country-annihilating sea salt and Holy Light dumplings."
The wind and snow in Mason Royal City seemed to become exceptionally gentle this night.
With Sophia's triumphant return, the entire city was instantly ignited by fanatical emotions.
The already bustling streets of the Royal City were now draped with red silk ribbons—spoils of war Irene had hauled back from the Orr National Treasury.
Inside a secret chamber of the Palace, Irene was covered in soot, guarding a massive stamping press. Beside her was Daphne, who was injecting golden magic power into badges.
"Your Majesty, this is my proudest work!"
Irene excitedly held up a thumb-sized aluminum alloy round badge blinking with a silvery-white cold luster.
Under this level of productivity, smelting aluminum was practically a Divine Miracle.
Irene utilized the principle of electrolysis... of course, the magic power version.
This batch of refined aluminum was lightweight, bright in color, and most importantly, no one else in this era had ever even seen this kind of metal.
This also consumed a great deal of magic, thus it was refined solely for this single purpose.
"This is just the outer shell."
Irene smugly pointed at the Rose emblem indented in the center of the badge.
"Daphne, your turn!"
Daphne rubbed the corners of her eyes somewhat exhaustedly. Then, she extended her slender finger, and a ray of pale golden light concentrated to the extreme spilled from her fingertip, accurately injecting into that Rose.
Buzz—!
The originally dead-silent aluminum badge instantly rippled with a faint rhythm. The Rose emblem became incredibly lifelike, even faintly exuding a warm pulse of magic power.
"Done!"
Daphne cheered, conveniently collapsing into Sophia's embrace.
"Your Majesty, every single one of these badges is bound to your Holy Light sequence.
Only when worn by a true Mason citizen will the Rose remain illuminated.
"If anyone attempts to counterfeit or snatch them, the light will instantly extinguish, and it will even give the wearer a Holy Light electric shock.
Without my release magic, no one can even dream of forging this identity!"
Sophia stroked this icy yet warm little badge, calculating in her heart:
"Now not only is the household registration problem solved, it even blocks the influx of opportunistic migrants.
In this Northern border abundant with food, this badge is the only ticket to a full stomach and dignity."
"Since the badges are taken care of, Your Majesty, let's discuss the most important thing—fireworks!"
Irene pulled out a stack of densely drawn sketches from her embrace, her posture resembling someone researching a strategic weapon capable of destroying the continent.
"The Black powder of the past only knew how to go 'bang' and explode; it lacked artistic sense!"
Irene excitedly explained while tinkering with piles of sulfur, saltpeter, and some kind of mineral powder emitting a blue fluorescence on the ground.
"I added different metal salts into it.
Adding red stones will make it explode into a blood-like vivid red.
Adding jade will result in a vibrant emerald green.
"And this deep-sea mineral powder can explode into a profound purple like the starry sky!"
However, the experiments did not go smoothly.
"Bang—!"
A muffled sound echoed. Irene's laboratory window was shattered, and her twin-tails were blasted into two charred, black curly lumps.
"Cough, cough... I didn't control the pressure well, and the outer shell wasn't thick enough, so it just bloomed right on the ground."
Irene wiped a handful of black soot from her face, yet her eyes were shining even brighter than before.
She began attempting to use the captured materials to make launch tubes, using cardboard tubes reinforced by Daphne's Holy Light as the outer shells.
That night, in the open space behind the Palace, Sophia, Delilah, and Willow were wrapped in thick fox furs observing.
"Your Majesty, close your eyes! Counting down... three, two, one!"
Whoosh—!
A streak of fire tore through the night sky, shooting straight up a hundred meters into the air.
Pop!
A pale purple Rose fully twenty meters in diameter flashed and faded in the dark night, followed by countless golden sparks falling like rain.
"So beautiful... is this a firework?"
Willow couldn't help but clasp her hands together, her eyes full of radiance.
"Fireworks, fireworks, no wonder it has this name."
Delilah also couldn't help but part her lips slightly. So it was a wisp of smoke flying into the sky, and then exploding into the shape of a flower.
So beautiful.
Sophia was also slightly stunned.
In this era where even lamp oil was considered expensive, this instant of brilliance truly possessed a soul-stirring charm.
In the distance, the subjects of the Royal City heard this muffled sound and raised their heads one after another.
"What is that? Did the stars in the sky explode?"
"That is Your Majesty's Divine Miracle! Only Your Majesty can control the light in the sky!"
"Heavens, what was that just now? It looked like there was a firelight in the sky."
"Just what exactly is it? I really want to see it again, could it be a Divine Miracle?"
Though it only flashed for an instant, that shock toward beauty had already planted a seed named Mason in everyone's heart.
"Alright, the fireworks are the dessert after the grand feast; the rest must be saved for the day of the Year-End Festival.
After all, Black powder is still very precious. Just seeing this little bit today is enough, as long as it succeeded."
Over the next two days, the entire Palace was preparing for the Year-End Festival.
This was the first Year-End Festival since Sophia took office; it was of paramount importance.
On the eve of the Year-End Festival, Mason Palace was no longer a cold center of power, but more like a super-kitchen operating at frantic speeds.
What drifted in the air was no longer the chilling scent of rust, but the rich aroma of braising broth, flour, and freshly baked bread.
The door of the cold storage deep within the Palace slowly opened amidst a heavy rumble.
Wrapped in thick black fox fur, Sophia held a long list of supplies in her hand, followed by a group of chefs who were already dumbfounded.
"Your Majesty, a-are we really taking all of this out?"
The old head chef wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his voice trembling.
Before him lay neatly stacked premium sea salt, dozens of premium smoked pork hind legs, and more than half of the dried scallops, dried fish, and dried kelp captured during that expedition.
There were even a few chests of potatoes, chili, onions, radishes, cabbage, and olives that Sophia had smuggled in and cultivated in the 'greenhouses'.
"Move them out."
Sophia didn't even look up, her tone as coldly indifferent as ever.
"Next year, the tax revenue turned over by the City of Hill will be even more, and once spring arrives, we will be breeding animals and farming on a massive scale.
These old goods are taking up space and affecting my ability to stockpile new supplies next year.
"If you can't finish cooking them tonight, I'll stuff you into the warehouse as well.
If you finish, but it isn't delicious, then I'll hang your heads on the City wall as lanterns."
The chefs shuddered and immediately began hauling the supplies like madmen.
Watching these supplies flow out like water, Sophia's heart was indeed bleeding.
But on second thought, keeping these things lying around was useless anyway. It was better to let this group of soldiers eat a good meal, so they could put more strength into it when they risked their lives for her later.
This clearance-sale style Year-End Eve dinner should be enough to move this bunch of incurable sycophants for another few years.
Inside the main kitchen, the scene was extremely magical.
Daphne was standing in front of a giant iron pot large enough to fit a person. Because she didn't want to expend effort stirring, she directly summoned a gentle, miniature whirlwind to spin inside the pot.
"Oh Holy Light, please make this seafood soup even richer..."
She whispered while secretly tossing a few pinches of invigorating powder into the soup.
Irene was also studying the dumplings she had been yearning for. The dumpling wrapper needed to be thick in the middle and thin at the edges—this was the most precise mechanical structure!
The servants gathered around. While marveling at these 'Divine Miracles,' they nimbly wrapped the dumplings that looked like silver ingots.
Beneath the Palace corridors, the guards who had changed into their new uniforms were taking advantage of the shift-change gap to carefully wipe the gleaming Black Rose Citizen Medal on their chests.
"Hey, did your badge light up?"
"Nonsense, when Your Majesty just passed by, my Rose was practically glowing red-hot!"
An old veteran took a deep breath of the aroma in the air, narrowing his eyes in satisfaction:
"Last Year-End, in that Baron's territory, I couldn't even snatch a bite of Black Bread mixed with sawdust.
Now... I'm actually worrying about whether tonight's ham will get stuck in my teeth."
"Be content. Did you hear the news from the City of Hill?
Your Majesty carved words onto all those old Orr nobles and threw them out to haul bricks.
"In this world, only by following Your Majesty Sophia can we be considered true 'humans'."
Compared to the fanaticism of the soldiers, the maids and Palace attendants harbored a more delicate sense of gratification.
"Lord Willow said that this year, everyone's Year-End bonus is not only silver coins, but also sea salt personally approved by Your Majesty."
"Sea salt... that is something more precious than gold.
I plan to ask someone to take it back to my mother. For her old aching legs, I heard a hot compress with sea salt works best, and the salt can still be saved for seasoning afterward."
"Say, why is Your Majesty so good to us?
She could clearly just feed us leftovers like those kings in the past."
"Probably because... we aren't just servants now, but Mason citizens as well.
"The way Your Majesty looks at us, although cold, is the look you give humans, not livestock.
"I like Your Majesty. Although she looks icy cold and sometimes speaks ruthlessly, I always feel that Your Majesty's heart is warm."
When the last glimmer of sunset sank below the horizon, hundreds of long tables had already been laid out in the open space outside the Main Hall of the Palace.
[Year-End Eve Dinner Menu Briefing]:
Appetizers: Sea salt-pickled cabbage paired with smoked ham slices.
Main Course: Holy Light-flavored large-barrel meat stew, plus a dried seafood scallop base.
Staple Food: Irene Brand ingot dumplings, with beef and scallion filling.
Desserts: Daphne's secret-recipe Holy Light jelly, and some homemade small desserts by Willow.
At this time, Irene was in the main kitchen, wearing an apron around her waist and gripping a rolling pin in her hand, looking exactly like a master chef.
Dozens of nervous-looking kitchen maids stood around her.
"Listen closely, the wrapper must be rolled round, thick in the middle and thin at the edges!"
Irene demonstrated with utmost seriousness as she spoke.
"For the filling, we must use that captured batch of dried scallops, plus fresh and tender pork hind leg meat, and finally pour in a little sea salt... Yes, exactly this savory and fresh flavor!"
The kitchen maids marveled at these petite, exquisite white dough dumplings that looked like silver ingots.
"Lord Irene, this is called a 'dumpling'?
Why do we eat this during the grand Year-End?"
A kitchen maid asked curiously.
"Because its shape resembles an ingot, representing abundant wealth pouring in!
And even more so... because this is the flavor I miss the most."
As Irene spoke, she sneaked a peek at Sophia, who was watching all this from the doorway.
At that moment, Sophia felt a slight sting at the tip of her nose.
Familiar dumplings, familiar days.
These memories that had gradually blurred after arriving in another world were actually being stitched back bit by bit by these few confidants in this manner.
Finally, the day of the Year-End Festival arrived.
The entire Mason Royal City was enveloped by an unprecedented aroma. On the table of every household sat a steaming Hot Pot.
"All Mason citizens, please claim your rewards!"
Valery's voice resounded through the Holy Light broadcast.
Every subject lined up, and after being registered in the roster, received that shiny silver Black Rose Citizen Medal.
"I have a name! I also have a badge!"
"Look, the Rose lit up! Your Majesty is really watching over us!"
"Heavens, this is so magical."
"I really feel like we have been acknowledged."
"The food seeds invented by Lord Inventor are so incredible; in the future, there will definitely be more people who want to join Mason. When that time comes, they won't be able to pose as Masonites!"
Those subjects who were originally still worried about being treated as expendables had all their unease transform into fanatical loyalty the moment they touched that cold yet sacred aluminum badge.
Inside the Main Hall of Mason Palace, all the gloom and chill had been devoured by dozens of fiercely burning fireplaces.
Hundreds of specially made ever-burning candles illuminated the grand hall as bright as day, the pale golden halos flowing across the black stone floor tiles, looking exactly like liquid gold.
The long banquet tables stretched from the center of the Main Hall all the way to the doors, covered in linen cloths as white as snow. The food piled upon them was enough to drive any medieval noble mad.
Whole roasted suckling pigs, brushed with a thick layer of wild honey and sea salt, their skin crisp and meat tender, were sizzling with fat.
Beside them were basins of milky-white thick soup simmered with Orr dried scallops and plump beef, so incredibly savory it could make one's soul leave their body.
In front of everyone sat a large plate of steaming hot dumplings.
The pure white dough wrappers enveloping the savory meat fillings glimmered with a crystalline luster in the candlelight. This was a special memory belonging exclusively to Mason, belonging exclusively to Sophia's era.
Even the most ordinary attendants had their goblets filled with aged strong malt ale. That throat-burning stimulation was the best reward during the freezing Year-End Festival.
Sophia sat up straight on the high black stone chair at the very top, her black fox fur draping naturally to the ground, holding a golden goblet inlaid with sapphires.
She lowered her eyes slightly, taking in all the faces below that were flushed with alcohol and excitement.
The noisy grand hall became so silent you could hear a pin drop the moment Sophia stood up.
"This cup of wine is not a toast to the gods, nor is it a toast to the void of fate."
Under the amplification of the magic runes, Sophia's voice carried a chilling, magnetic tone that echoed between every stone pillar:
"This Queen toasts only to you.
To Delilah's sword, to Irene's fire, to Daphne's light, to Vasha's watch, and to every subject present who has sweated and bled for Mason.
"In the past year, we climbed out from the wastelands, crushed the epidemic, and leveled Orr.
"But I tell you, this is merely a beginning."
Sophia raised her goblet to eyebrow level, her pale golden pupils flashing with an ambition that made everyone tremble:
"In this world, wherever the flag of the Black Rose flutters, hunger is forbidden, and subservience is forbidden.
"Drink this wine! Next year, we will make that blue ocean bear the surname of Mason!"
"For Your Majesty! For Mason!"
Delilah was the first to stand up. She heroically downed the strong wine in her goblet in a single gulp, her eyes burning with a fanatical zeal for war and glory.
"Cheers! Next year I will definitely make a massive contraption capable of crossing the ocean!"
Irene yelled incoherently with a mouthful of dumplings, waving the wrench in her hand like a conductor's baton.
Daphne gazed at Sophia infatuatedly. With a flick of her fingertips, countless fine Holy Light particles exploded above the grand hall like a meteor shower that would never end:
"The direction Your Majesty points is this minister's Holy Sanctuary."
The officials and generals below were thoroughly driven into a frenzy. They uniformly stood up, their heavy combat boots stomping the ground, producing a thunderous roar:
"Mason Immortal!"
"We are willing to be Your Majesty's boots and trample this continent flat!"
"Long live the Tyrant! Long live civilization!"
The sounds of wooden mugs and metal goblets clashing merged into one, and the mellow wine splashed onto the ground.
That was the revelry of conquerors, and also a fearless declaration of war upon the future.
Victor hid beneath the table, not wanting others to see his tears of excitement, his quill pen practically tearing through the paper:
Your Majesty does not need the pity of the gods; she herself is a god.
She bought souls with a bowl of dumplings, and ignited the world with a cup of strong wine.
Beneath that black Rose, the subjects no longer pray for the heavens' charity; they only look toward the throne.
That certainty toward the future, that desire to destroy the old era, is precisely the greatest spark of civilization Your Majesty has bestowed upon them.
After this night, nothing on the continent will be able to stop this group of madmen, because their Queen has promised them—the entire ocean!
Late at night, as Sophia gently waved her hand from the balcony.
"Irene, light the fire."
Boom—! Boom boom boom boom!
Hundreds of specially made fireworks wove an exquisitely beautiful aurora show in the sky.
Red roses, golden wheat ears, purple meteors—illuminating the entirety of Mason Royal City as bright as day.
In the projection of the City of Hill, Vasha and the subjects watched this Divine Miracle falling from the sky and knelt down one after another.
"This is Your Majesty's light..."
"As long as we follow the Black Rose, winter will no longer be cold!"
"So beautiful, I feel as if I am in heaven."
Delilah watched the sky full of fireworks, muttering to herself: "At this moment, I feel we have truly conquered this land."
Sophia stood at the edge of the balcony, holding a bowl of dumplings personally boiled by Irene in her hands.
The hot steam misted her vision.
She looked at the cheering subjects below, looking at those smiling faces overflowing with simple happiness, and suddenly felt that being this Tyrant didn't seem so bad after all.
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