Mirabel was experiencing what it truly meant to be treated like an Empress.
Or rather, even an Empress might not enjoy the luxury she had now.
She practically lived at the Chancellor's Manor.
Every morning, she would lazily rise long after the sun was high, eat breakfast prepared by Sylas, and slowly let him help her dress.
Once dressed, she would go to the study to supervise Sylas as he reviewed files and did her homework.
By noon, she would oversee Sylas making her lunch.
During the afternoon rest, Sylas had to give her massages.
But her favorite time was evening.
Whenever the sun set, Sylas would uncontrollably beg her, pleading for her to let him go.
Though she was tired of hearing it, not hearing it felt dull, especially in bed.
So, Mirabel treated his lamentations as background music, going about her business regardless.
She is very young and in good physical condition.
This makes it unbearable for him every night.
Day after day, she felt being Empress wasn't so bad.
"Is this the gift Auntie Gwendolyn gave me? Thank you so much, Auntie Gwendolyn." Mirabel now genuinely respected Gwendolyn. This was the coming-of-age gift she wanted.
Sylas, on the other hand, was bullied beyond recognition.
By day he was a nanny, by night a servant, with not a moment's rest.
The only saving grace was that the war situation was finally becoming clearer.
The weather turned cold; winter had arrived.
Beneath the walls of the Jade Wall, countless Aethelred soldiers lay dead.
Nearly fifty thousand elites had been lost here.
Isolde was so angry she vomited blood.
She finally slowed her pace, realizing her recklessness.
Aethelred's expansion was too rapid. After conquering Lyonesse, there was no buffer time before starting reforms.
Now, halfway through the reforms, they were attacking Western Stonewold.
The Jade Wall, protruding like a sheer cliff face, was a natural barrier blocking the river.
Coupled with the Stonewold army's powerful bows and crossbows, it was a veritable killing machine.
After nearly three months of siege, the Stonewold army showed no signs of defeat.
On the contrary, with Gwendolyn's personal presence, the Stonewold army fought with increasing courage.
The casualty ratio was heartening.
When the soldiers inside the Jade Wall saw the mountains of Aethelred corpses outside, even losing a few thousand of their own seemed like a net gain.
Isolde, wrapped in a thick cloak, sat astride a beautiful warhorse, gazing hopelessly at the rock-solid Jade Wall in the distance.
"Your Majesty, let's return," a female general beside her reminded softly.
It was cold outside. Her Majesty was physically weakened and had vomited blood from anger over the war's lack of progress.
She should rest in the command tent.
"Return?" Isolde let the cold wind whip her face, strands of hair catching on her ears, making her look desolate and haggard.
"Then let's return." She tugged the reins and slowly returned to the command tent.
She planned to retreat.
But the Aethelred Phalanx had never suffered such a crushing defeat since its inception.
Many generals swore to try one more time.
This time, they would surely take the Jade Wall.
They drew their blades, cut their palms, swearing oaths with their blood while tearfully pleading.
Seeing their unwillingness, Isolde didn't blame them excessively. After all, when had Aethelred ever faced such a setback?
The army's morale was nearly broken by this wall.
She merely issued one last military order, as if accepting fate.
One more attempt.
If it failed again, they would negotiate peace.
The Aethelred Phalanx, having lost nearly half its strength, launched one final, desperate assault that night.
They clung like maggots to bone, desperate to scale the vertical walls.
The mage corps had been depleted.
Siege engines roared their final salvos.
Massive stones arced through the air, crashing into the Jade Wall.
Aethelred soldiers cheered as the stones landed.
But the Jade Wall remained as sturdy as ever.
The master architect Maeve had integrated the wall with the entire hillside.
Trebuchets could not destroy it.
Even if the walls were breached, the earthen slopes were almost vertical.
The Stonewold army began shooting arrows.
Their arrows fell like rain, dense and unending, upon the attacking Aethelred troops.
Though their iron armor offered some protection, attacking uphill made advance impossible.
That night followed the familiar pattern of attack and defense.
By morning, aside from a new layer of corpses below the walls, things were the same as three months prior.
Isolde knew it was time to withdraw.
This retreat would inevitably unleash a storm of bloodshed within the court upon her return.
The contradictions hadn't been transferred to Western Stonewold; instead, they had been thoroughly intensified.
She stopped planning attacks, instead thinking about whom to purge upon returning to Lorynth.
But Isolde had no idea of the major consequence brought by that night's attack.
If she had known, she would have desperately continued the assault, even if it meant sacrificing the entire Aethelred Phalanx.
Because a piece of shattered stone, flying into the Stonewold command tent, tore through the canvas and struck Gwendolyn squarely in the chest.
The pillar of Stonewold immediately fell into a coma, her condition critical.
The high command within the Jade Wall was instantly thrown into high alert.
They dared not act rashly. Even the medics were detained on-site, forbidden from leaving.
Then, two top-secret letters were sent from the Jade Wall to Ironpeak.
Two letters, carried by two separate messengers, to be delivered personally into the hands of the Stonewold Empress.
Meanwhile, Mirabel was in the study, rubbing against Sylas like a cat that got the cream, thoroughly pleased with herself.
The messengers arrived.
Mirabel could only reluctantly accept the letters.
She was rather afraid of receiving letters from Gwendolyn lately.
Auntie Gwendolyn always admonished her in letters to strive for greatness.
To ask Sylas if she didn't understand anything.
These letters made her feel guilty.
She did ask Sylas daily, though the questions were rather... unique.
Usually, it was: "What are we having for lunch?"
But in the evening, she preferred asking, "Can we do it again?"
Of course, regardless of Sylas's answer, she would do it again.
After receiving the two letters, Mirabel had the messengers rewarded.
She took the letters inside and tossed them to Sylas, saying lazily, "You read them. Your favorite frontline reports."
Sylas sat behind the desk, thoroughly weary, and opened the letters.
Then he sensed something wrong.
The two letters, for secrecy, needed to be overlapped to read the full message.
Otherwise, the text would be incomplete.
He said alarmedly, "Your Majesty, these letters use the highest level of encryption. This is something you should read yourself."
"I'm not reading it. Auntie Gwendolyn will surely scold me." Mirabel sat beside him, looking at him pleadingly.
"Sylas, you have to be on my side, right?"
"No, no! These letters are important!" Sylas couldn't indulge her nonsense now. He scanned the contents and then shot to his feet in fright.
He stared blankly at the text, his face as pale as paper as he looked at Mirabel.
Mirabel was terrified by his expression. She said nervously, "Sylas, what is it? Has Isolde broken through?"
"...Uh... uh..." Sylas suddenly covered his mouth, overwhelmed by a wave of nausea and fear.