Delilah's body went stiff as she felt the astonishing softness and weight in her arms.
Sophia's silver hair occasionally swept across her cheek, bringing a subtle itch and setting off a turbulent wave of heartbeats.
However, this tranquility did not last long. The Queen, who had been sleeping quietly in her arms, suddenly let out a soft, fine murmur.
At this moment, Sophia was immersed in an extremely luxurious dream.
In the dream, there was no barren Kingdom of Mason, no rock-hard Black Bread, and no pile of endless official documents.
She was sitting in a huge, modern restaurant, with a basin of golden fried french fries piled up like a small mountain in front of her.
Every single fry was cooked just right—crispy on the outside and tender on the inside—sprinkled with fine salt grains and emitting tempting steam.
"Fries!"
Sophia's brows furrowed slightly, her pink lips opening and closing unconsciously as she uttered confused sleep talk.
"Use potatoes the size of fists... no, only potatoes the size of millstones are enough to eat..."
In the dream, she was directing Irene to use a huge raw iron pot to fry a french fry that was one meter long.
The Sophia in the dream was preparing to have a big meal.
However, when these words fell into Delilah's ears, which were close at hand, they were instantly filtered by that thick "Tyrant filter" into another grand and tragic context.
Delilah's originally stiff body trembled violently. Those pale red eyes instantly widened, and even her breathing stagnated.
"Potatoes... as big as fists?"
The mysterious trial fields on the top floor of the West Tower instantly surfaced in Delilah's mind.
She recalled Irene's expression, as if she had found a priceless treasure, and recalled those ugly-looking tubers.
Although she hadn't really gone to inspect the trial fields, she still knew that the thing had been named "potatoes" by Her Majesty and Irene.
So that is it.
Even in this deep sleep of extreme exhaustion, does Her Majesty's soul still wander over the fields of the Kingdom of Mason?
Delilah's eyes actually turned slightly red.
To her ears, the 'big' in Sophia's mouth was not greed for food, but an ultimate desire for the land's output.
That was a grand blueprint for saving the thousands of common people of the Kingdom of Mason from hunger!
In this era of ruins where the harvest of one mu of land isn't even enough to fill the gaps between one's teeth, was Her Majesty deducing the Divine Miracles crops with a yield of a thousand jin per mu in her dreams?
Sophia's dream continued.
Just as she was about to reach out and grab that huge fry, the abominable faces of the King of Orr and the King of Qubi suddenly jumped out in the dream. They were greedily reaching out, wanting to snatch the mountain of fries in front of her.
Sophia mumbled again. The hand originally wrapped around Delilah's waist suddenly tightened, as if trying to hug the 'big body pillow' in her arms to death.
"No one is allowed to snatch..."
Sophia smacked her lips again, seeming to have already turned those few kings into sieves with muskets in the dream, and then satisfyingly protected her potatoes.
These words reached Delilah's ears like bolts of thunder exploding in her sea of consciousness.
No one is allowed to snatch? Does she mean those neighboring countries that are coveting the vitality of the Kingdom of Mason?
Delilah felt the immense force at her waist; it was an extremely strong desire to protect.
Her gaze was filled with awe and fanaticism, and even her soul sublimated at this moment.
Your Majesty, are you afraid that the lords of those neighboring countries will snatch these Divine Seeds that can revive Mason?
Is that why you disregarded the danger to attend the appointment personally, deducing the game with them even in your dreams?
That kind of resolution to blow away anyone who reaches out... Heavens, this kingly will to guard the last shred of rations for the weak subjects even if it means bearing the name of a Tyrant.
Delilah took a deep breath, screaming frantically inside:
Your Majesty! I, Delilah, swear here that even if hell lies ahead, I will absolutely not let anyone touch a single corner of your skirt, let alone think about taking away the hope you planted for the Kingdom of Mason!
Just when Delilah was unable to extricate herself from her emotions, because that 'big body pillow' was simply too comfortable, Sophia confusedly tilted her head.
Her warm lips inadvertently brushed past the palm of Delilah's hand, which was placed next to the soft cushion.
In that instant, Delilah felt like she had been hit directly by ten thousand volts of lightning magic.
That moist, warm, and extremely soft touch made this red-haired War God, who killed without blinking on the battlefield, feel as if her bones had been drained. She nearly collapsed onto the soft seat.
Her face instantly turned so red it looked like it was about to bleed, and even the tips of her ears were astonishingly hot.
But she didn't dare to move. Even though her fingers were numbed by waves of that warm breath, she remained motionless like a holy statue, allowing that 'food-guarding kitten' to seek the most stable dreamland in her palm.
Even if it is to protect this purity of fighting for the warmth and fullness of the myriad people, I am willing to sacrifice my all.
Delilah lowered her head. In the carriage dyed by the autumn setting sun, she gazed at the girl Queen in her arms, who was still muttering about food in her dream, with a gentle gaze sufficient to melt steel.
Willow trudged unevenly across the withered grass, carrying several leather water skins just filled with hot water.
She had just gone to distribute hot water to the circle of Musketeers responsible for the perimeter alert.
That group of soldiers, whose physiques had greatly increased due to eating a lot of food and undergoing various training, had eyes shining like wolves even in this rustling autumn wind.
She walked to the carriage side and lightly leaped onto the step.
As Sophia's most personal maid, she originally planned to go in and add some hot tea for Her Majesty, and incidentally see how Lord Delilah was resting.
"Lord Delilah, the water has been distributed, you..."
Willow said as she extremely naturally lifted a corner of the heavy carriage curtain.
However, her words were directly choked off in her throat by some invisible force the moment she saw the scene inside the carriage.
In a corner of that dim and warm carriage, the monarch of a country, usually cold as ice and deeply majestic, was currently curled up in the red-haired Valkyrie's arms like a completely undefended kitten.
Not only that, Her Majesty's hands were tightly wrapped around the other's waist. Silver long hair and black armor intertwined, presenting an extremely intimate and warm posture.
And that Lord Delilah, who could fight a hundred alone on the battlefield and whose eyes were like sharp blades, was currently as stiff as a piece of red-hot raw iron. Her face was flushed red, yet her eyes revealed a kind of fanaticism and tenderness akin to a pilgrimage.
Willow's eyes widened slightly.
Immediately, a trace of sly and tacit knowing smile slowly spread from the corners of her mouth.
Oh my, so the sharp sword Her Majesty spoke of needs to be maintained through close contact like this?
Willow did not make any sound. She extremely tactfully and slowly lowered the carriage curtain in her hand.
She even carefully pulled the gap tight for them, ensuring not a wisp of autumn wind could leak in.
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