Upon Sophia's pale, porcelain-fair deadpan face, within those pale-golden pupils that were forever cold as frost and ice, there at this moment at last leaked out, beyond all power to suppress, a trace of helplessness and reluctance.
Done for.
In the deepest depths of her heart, Sophia let out a near-despairing, feeble sigh; the grand grain ledger in her mind that she had only just managed to set in order was, the very instant she heard the name Liliana, churned utterly into a tangled mess.
If it were a matter of going to war against those legendary one hundred thousand heavy-armored knights of the Imperial Capital, then no matter how thoroughly the situation collapsed, there would still be all manner of methods available—indeed, she had already begun making preparations.
This sort of conflict, which could be resolved with blade and supplies, was on the contrary the most worry-free for Sophia.
But this woman Liliana.... she simply did not fall under the jurisdiction of any normal rule of survival at all!
Were she to go on committing offenses, or to do things that provoked others to anger, then Sophia could of course deal with her openly and aboveboard.
But this Liliana was truly skilled at playing pitiful—as the saying goes, one does not strike a smiling face with one's raised hand.
Sophia's somewhat distasteful fingertips gave a light tap against the rim of the blue-and-white porcelain cup, giving off a faint, slight sound.
Although in her heart she had already, several hundred times over, regarded this peerless shrimp-headed wench Liliana with distaste, her long lashes drooped faintly in the morning light, still maintaining that coldness and nobility belonging to the supreme of the Kingdom of Mason.
Irene, who had come charging in through the great doors, gasping for breath in a wild flurry, at a single glance caught sight of her own Your Majesty's profound expression—utterly frozen as though it were a statue.
The pink-haired Inventor hurriedly tossed the drafting blueprints she had been cradling in her arms onto the long table, and at a trotting run scurried over to behind the back of Sophia's chair.
In that pair of sapphire-like eyes of hers there interwove a wariness toward Liliana; she lowered her clear, booming voice and, with utmost caution, probed:
"Your Majesty....
Looking at this deep, strategizing expression of yours, you must surely have calculated the movements of that Leighton woman a full step earlier even than the herald guards at the city gate, right?"
As Irene spoke, somewhat indignantly she fished out from within her artisan's vest her most beloved little copper hammer, brandished it hard once through the air, and that pair of pretty eyes of hers glittered with an extreme, master-protecting fervor:
"Your Majesty, that Liliana has always conducted herself without rule or restraint—back in Leighton she dared to harbor designs against you, and now, the very moment she heard that the seventeen nations of the Northern border had all switched to the Black Rose banner, she came rushing over just like a bee that's caught the scent of honey!
Since that attendant has already been sent off, why don't I.....
I'll go right now to the Administrative Hall's main warehouse and call General Delilah over?
Or I could just go back to the workshop, haul out those few crates of newly-developed Black powder fuses that haven't yet been registered into the warehouse, and have the musketeer squads quietly set up an ambush at the city gate, doing away with this thorny hidden menace?!
That way she won't get to come into the city and disturb Your Majesty's afternoon-tea schedule all over again!!"
Listening to this extremely brisk, hardcore line of reasoning from Irene—who at the drop of a hat would treat a sovereign queen of a nation as garbage to be forcibly blown sky-high.
Seated off to one side, the Third Princess Victoria, who had all the while been screening more than half her face with an ivory folding fan, at this moment could not help but let out an exceedingly elegant low chuckle.
Within that pair of golden eyes of hers glittered a light that dreaded the world not being thrown into chaos; she tapped the folding fan lightly against her robe, her tone carrying a wisp of spectator's peculiar mockery:
"Heh heh, Miss Irene's notion of liquidation is certainly simple and satisfying.
But that Liliana darling outside the door has, this time around, brought along the supreme guidance authority of two entire duchies, along with the whole of their Royal House wealth.
What's more, does this Queen of Leighton have some manner of connection with Your Majesty?
I wonder how our great Your Majesty... has planned for this matter?"
Under the gazes of a ring of subordinates that all but watched as though a True God were descending upon the world, awaiting the Great Emperor to hand down a command of devouring or of obliteration.
Sophia slowly closed that pair of somewhat sore pale-golden eyes, feeling only that the few measures of cool breeze blowing in through the terrace window had, in this instant, turned even more hot and dry than a moment before.
Do away with her?
The other party had come to throw in her lot with great fanfare; were she to dispose of the woman at this moment, those other small nations still looking on would surely be struck with dread.
It was not a good method.
Sophia let out a long breath of feeble, turbid air.
The girl slowly opened her eyes, and that pair of pale-golden dead-fish eyes once more returned to that all-dominating, cold, supreme aspect without the slightest trace of mortal emotion.
She gave the silver spoon in her hand a somewhat distasteful twirl, her voice cold and clear as the winter's fragmented snow sweeping across the wasteland:
"No need."
Sophia slowly rose to her feet, her plain-white silk skirt-hem tracing across the soft carpet an exceedingly elegant arc brimming with oppressive force.
She walked up to the enormous map sand-table, her fingertip brushing exceedingly lightly across the edge that symbolized Leighton's territory, her voice placid and unwavering.
"Since the other party has come in all sincerity to submit, bearing the hereditary seals of two nations as well as the complete main-warehouse ledgers, then in the grand autumn-harvest scheme of the future, their Leighton land will sooner or later have to be fully merged into the brand-new circulation model of the Black Rose.
Since the future cannot be evaded, in the days to come we will, in the end, still have to meet across this very long table.
As the Queen of Mason who has accepted the submission of the Northern border, in the face of two nations' wealth and sincerity... I naturally cannot keep hiding away and refusing to see her forever."
Sophia tilted her head slightly, that pair of ripple-less pupils reflecting the stretch of bustling, fervent black earth beyond the hall's doors, and brought down upon this unexpected midday visit the final, ultimate verdict:
"Willow, go and convey my handwritten order.
Have the garrison troops before the gate put away their black muskets.
Let Liliana into the hall; have her bring along those fur ledgers she's tallied clean, and come to the western Hall of State Affairs to see me."
"Yes——!! Your Majesty is wise!!"
Amid cry after cry brimming with the utmost reverence and fervor, the sunlight was blazing as fire.
The herald inner-guard centurion, swift and resolute, received the order and withdrew; as the hollow-carved wooden door closed once more, within the greenhouse there remained for a time only the rustling of the breeze stirring the gauze curtains.
At one side of the long table, within Victoria's pair of pretty golden eyes, the light of inquiry grew all the more intense.
She lightly screened the corner of her lips with the ivory folding fan, her gaze making a discreet, unobtrusive circuit across the several people within the greenhouse.
How exceedingly bizarre.
Earlier, even when the kings of those seventeen cities had sent their national seals over through the night, Irene had still been merrily gnawing at a Red Maple cake atop the long table.
Delilah, too, had merely lounged languidly leaning against the wall off to one side; though the whole scene had been solemn, the atmosphere had been nowhere near as taut as it was now.
Yet now, merely upon hearing the name "Liliana," the very temperature in the air seemed in an instant to plunge to freezing point.
Not only had Irene fished out her most beloved little copper hammer, but within that pair of sapphire-like eyes of hers there burned an anger and wariness near to that of guarding one's food.
And off to the side, the red-haired General Delilah—though she still propped herself on her longsword and said nothing—had that pair of dark-red eyes of hers already narrowed dangerously, her knuckles gripping the sword-hilt until they had gone faintly white, faintly betraying an exceedingly aggressive intent to contend.
Within Victoria's mind, the intelligence concerning all the various factions raced and circulated at high speed.
Back when Liliana had lain in wait within the Royal City, and had even, in the dead of night and without warning, crept into Sophia's Bedchamber with ill intent, Victoria had at the time been off, as the Third Princess who had fled through the night, conspiring among several neighboring kingdoms—and so of this segment of secret history she remained wholly ignorant.
At this moment, the more she watched Irene and Delilah's grave demeanor—as though facing a formidable foe, drawn up in full battle array—the harder the curious cat's paw within Victoria's heart scratched and clawed.
"Heh heh, look at the postures of Miss Irene and General Delilah—anyone who didn't know better would think the one come to the door outside was some world-ending demon capable of cleaving open the city wall of Yurilland with a single sword-stroke."
Victoria elegantly folded up the ivory folding fan, tapped it lightly against her palm, and with a pair of bright, glittering beautiful eyes looked toward Sophia, her words carrying a wisp of that probing, roundabout insinuation peculiar to the nobility:
"Leighton is nothing more than an independent little nation on the extreme western flank; this newly enthroned Queen Liliana, even if her means are a touch ruthless, could by no means warrant such guardedness from two core house-retainers.
Could it be....
that before I had returned to the Order of the Black Rose, this Queen of Leighton once had, in the Royal City, some manner of... exceedingly profound entanglement of wealth or connection with Your Majesty?"
As Victoria spoke, she even, in her heart, conjured up a layer of yet more profound, grand-scale imaginings.
Absolutely no simple matter!
To be able to make Sophia reveal this rare frozen expression, and even make Irene stir herself enough to entertain the notion of setting an ambush with Black powder at the city gate.
This Liliana had, in all likelihood, long ago seen through the deep-lying laws of Mason's new Order, and had in the past inflicted upon Your Majesty some kind of irreversible threat!
Between the two of them, there must surely have been waged a peak-level gamble—one utterly beyond the imagining of ordinary folk—over the supreme dominion of the Northern border!!
"As if it were any kind of profound entanglement!!"
Before Sophia could even open her mouth, Irene, her face flushed red from holding it in off to the side, could not help but slap the table and, indignantly, burst out shouting at the top of her voice:
"Victoria, you don't know—that woman is simply someone who acts with no rule or restraint whatsoever, a thoroughly shameless wench!
Back when we were in the Royal City, she actually took advantage of the cover of night to sneak into Your Majesty's Bedchamber, and even attempted to get handsy with Your Majesty—she simply treated our Mason's defenses as though they were thin air!
If it weren't for Your Majesty's mercy..."
"Irene."
A voice cold and clear without the slightest worldly impurity, like the first wisp of fragmented snow falling upon the ice in the depths of winter, without any warning thunderously tore apart Irene's voice—which had been on the very verge of spilling the whole inside story.
Seated in the head seat upon the soft couch, Sophia's long lashes lifted faintly, and that pair of pale-golden dead-fish eyes—forever cold as frost and ice, without the slightest emotional ripple—carrying a near all-dominating cold, heavy pressure, exceedingly steadily and unwaveringly.....
came to rest, fixed dead, upon Irene, who was just speaking with great gusto, and upon the face of the curiosity-filled Victoria.
The air within the room, in this instant, entered utterly into a frozen state.
Pinned by that pair of golden eyes without a shred of warmth, Victoria—who had originally still dreaded the world not being thrown into chaos, attempting to pry a sliver of strategic-gambit clue out of Your Majesty's past—felt only a bone-deep chill shoot up her spine in an instant.
That gaze was far too cold.
So cold that it was as though, the moment she asked even one more riddler's word, the silver-haired girl before her would, with the silver spoon in her hand, write off and obliterate her entire person on the spot from this grand autumn-harvest scheme.
Within one one-thousandth of a second, Victoria displayed the finest situation-reading savvy befitting a top-tier noble.
"....It seems this is indeed a supreme grand account involving the core secrets of the Black Rose; I suddenly find myself no longer the least bit curious."
Upon Victoria's elegant, beautiful, pretty face there instantly stacked up a flawless, signature smile.
With utmost crispness she once again spread open the ivory folding fan, lightly screening the corners of her own somewhat upturned lips, and very smoothly lowered that proud head of hers a fraction, submissively closing her mouth.
And at her side, Irene—who had been coldly shot a sidelong glance by Sophia's pale-golden pupils—was likewise frightened into shrinking back her neck; she hurriedly stuffed the little copper hammer back into her artisan's vest, honestly and obediently took up a piece of Red Maple cake, and dared not utter so much as half a sound more.
She had actually thought it would be fine to tell the Third Princess!
After all, the Third Princess was now a core member of their Mason as well.
But on careful thought, there was some sense to it too.
The matter of her own near-molestation at the hands of the shrimp-headed wench—were her elder sister to learn of it, she would surely find it terribly mortifying as well, she mused, falling silent.
Gazing at the tea table that had at last quieted down, Sophia, seated steadily in her chair, in the deepest depths of her heart, silently let out her nth sigh.
Lucky for you that you shut your mouth quickly.
Sensing the glance Sophia cast drifting her way, Victoria buried her head even lower; no one knew just how high the corners of her mouth had curled up behind her fan.
----------
In the Hall of State Affairs, the broad vaulted dome scattered down a great expanse of faintly cool morning light.
Sophia sat upright upon the black-lacquered carved supreme throne, her head of silver hair set off all the more cold and clear against the chill of the chair-back behind her.
She had once again changed back into that neat black Gothic gown; the layer upon layer of black silk cascaded down like a tide, giving off an all-dominating, supreme majesty.
The golden crown inlaid with red gemstones was delicate and small, and worn atop Sophia's head it did not appear in the least heavy.
It was just that, beneath that exquisite, flawless deadpan face, Sophia was silently gazing at the long table.
She wondered whether that person had made any improvement.
Just as Sophia was, in the deepest depths of her heart, frantically erecting defensive fortifications, the heavy bronze great doors were crisply pushed open with a low, muffled thud.
Several grave-faced inner guards, treading with exceedingly orderly steps, led Liliana along with several of her elite-soldier attendants slowly across the threshold into this magnificent Hall of State Affairs that symbolized the core of the new Order.
Upon the marble floor, Liliana's pair of black marching boots stamped out a clear, rhythmic sound.
She was at this moment still clad in that set of close-fitting dark-black light armor, the armor even faintly carrying still the wind-blown sand of the wasteland and several wisps of a lingering, faint reek of blood not yet dispersed, sketching to the fullest those soul-stirring, elegant lines of hers.
Behind her, several Leighton attendants were respectfully carrying two heavy silk-brocade bundles—within them lay precisely the supreme power-tokens of the two realms, Mafen and Leighton.
However, the very instant she crossed into the hall and truly made out clearly that streak of cold, clear silver hair upon the throne, Liliana's pair of obsidian-like enchanting beautiful eyes abruptly lit up in full.
The coldness and cruelty she had earlier borne upon the wasteland for the sake of defending her beloved asset, in this single second melted clean away like spring snow.
"Sophia..."
Liliana faintly halted her steps, and upon that supremely beautiful, wildness-brimming pretty face there rose an exceedingly moving smile, her very voice turning somewhat sticky and tender.
She folded both hands before her lower abdomen and, very smoothly, dipped into a graceful bow toward the silver-haired girl upon the throne, that wisp of fervent, near-pathological infatuation all but condensing into substance.
"Liliana of Leighton, come this early morn especially to present unto you the panorama of my wealth.
It's been many days since we last met; Your Majesty's bearing remains as splendid as ever—truly, I have missed you so terribly."
Faced with this smile-brimming, even somewhat shameless and fawning salute of Liliana's, Sophia, in the head seat at the long table, faintly lowered her long lashes; within her pale-golden pupils not a single emotional ripple could be discerned, only her fingertips tapping at the armrest now and then, on and off.
One does not strike a smiling face with one's raised hand.
Sophia once again silently recited this in her heart.
It was true that she had not seen Liliana in a long while, and it was also true that she had made some improvement.
But why was it that all the improvement had gone into the thickness of her face?
If the Liliana of before had seemed to still carry a trace of shame, then the Liliana of now was utterly without shame.
At one side of the hall, the various house-retainers standing below the high dais presented decidedly different, subtle reactions to the arrival of this Queen of Leighton.
As the administrative officer, Willow at this moment wore a placid expression upon her beautiful face.
She merely bore her signature gentle smile, and with a pair of bare, ungloved hands turned open, in an exceedingly standard manner, a brand-new asset-circulation reconciliation table.
In the eyes of Willow, this top-tier civil official, no matter who it was that came in, so long as they held a national seal and main-warehouse ledgers in their hands, they belonged in full to the category of brand-new productive force that needed to be verified and tallied.
Even though this Liliana had once kicked up a commotion in the Bedchamber, since Your Majesty had let her in, then in this moment she too must honestly and obediently be merged into Mason's new Order model.
And on the other side of the long table, the Third Princess Victoria, her hand habitually pinching the ivory folding fan, at this moment had within that pair of golden eyes of hers a near-jubilant curiosity and mockery glittering away.
She turned slightly to the side and, at perfect leisure, sized up this Queen of Leighton—who claimed to have swallowed the Mafen Duchy whole upon the ancient road, yet at this moment was as docile as a kitten before Sophia.
Marvelous... simply too marvelous.
Earlier she had heard Irene let it slip that this Liliana had actually dared, in the dead of night, to secretly creep into Your Majesty's Bedchamber attempting to harbor ill designs.
At the time I had thought it was nothing more than a young girl's mischief, but now, seeing it with my own eyes....
Look at that figure beneath the light armor, full to an unreasonable degree, and look at that fervent gaze that all but wishes to swallow Your Majesty whole!
This is the most top-tier entanglement, born of two sovereigns possessed of supremely high dominion, locked in a core gambit over the matter of belonging!
No wonder Your Majesty just now, in the room, would reveal that sort of stiff expression—facing such a thorny opponent, one who heeds no rules and stands ready at any moment to launch an assault upon the couch, even Your Majesty, who schemes without the slightest oversight, would, I daresay, find it exceedingly difficult to resolve.
Victoria, somewhat covertly, used the fan to screen the corners of her own mouth—already all but curling clean past the horizon line—the color of curiosity in her eyes growing all the more rich.
And in a corner of the hall, the twin-tailed Irene was glaring fixedly with a pair of sapphire-like big eyes, her two little hands gripping the edge of the long table until it creaked, that round face of hers full of extreme wariness toward Liliana's snatching away of Your Majesty's attention.
Within this reception Hall of State Affairs, where the thoughts of all parties churned and the atmosphere all but scorched the very air to a glowing red.
Sophia slowly set down the fingers that had been pinching the white-porcelain cup, the black skirt-hem casting an exceedingly elegant, slender shadow.
That voice, cold and clear as the winter's fragmented snow, at last spread out in all directions, thunderously shattering the subtle stalemate over the scene:
"Liliana, welcome to Mason.
Since you've brought the assets of two nations over, then now.... let Willow first take the figures you've handed over and reconcile them."
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