Deep in the night, on the northern outskirts of the city, withered grass hissed like ghostly whispers in the cold wind.
A maidservant dressed in plain commoner's clothes — slight of frame and visibly anxious — paced back and forth beside a well. She kept glancing toward the Royal City, her fingers twisting together, fine beads of sweat breaking out across her forehead only to be stolen away by the freezing wind, leaving nothing but a bone-deep chill.
"Whoosh——!"
A silver arc of light erupted without warning from the withered grass.
The maidservant didn't even have time to cry out before an immense force slammed her flat against the frozen mud.
"Bind her tight — don't let this little mouse wriggle free!"
Delilah's voice, laden with killing intent, rang out from the darkness. She sheathed her longsword and looked down at the maidservant — now trussed up in specially made cowhide rope by the soldiers — with cold, contemptuous eyes.
Several elite members of the Royal Guards materialized from the shadows like phantoms, their movements so precise they didn't disturb a single grain of dust.
"My Lord... mercy! I was only—"
"Shut your mouth. Save whatever you have to say for Her Majesty."
Delilah grabbed the maidservant by the back of her collar and hauled her upright, her gaze carrying the kind of contempt that made a person's blood run cold.
"Anyone who dares step within Mason's sphere of Order should be prepared to be ground to pieces by it."
Moments later, inside the Council Hall.
Sophia sat composed upon the throne, idly turning the Black Rose seal ring — the emblem of dispossession — between her fingers.
Irene, Willow, Bardess, and the newly returned Delilah stood in two lines to either side. The air pressure inside the hall had sunk so low it was difficult to breathe.
The maidservant was thrown onto the polished marble floor like a heap of wet rags. Trembling, she raised her head — and found herself staring straight into Sophia's pale-gold eyes, still as a frozen lake.
"Please, Your Majesty, spare my life! I... I was only following orders!"
The maidservant kowtowed violently, her voice cracking with desperate, weeping terror.
"Following orders?"
Sophia's slender fingers rested lightly against her chin. Her tone was clean and cold, without a single flicker of warmth.
"Speak. Who is your master? To dare reach into Our domain in the dead of night — they must hold no small position in Leighton."
The maidservant bit down on her lip, fear and conflict warring in her eyes, and clamped her mouth firmly shut.
"A tough one."
Sophia glanced down at her, as one might glance at a tool about to be discarded, and addressed Delilah at her side with casual indifference.
"Since she seems so fond of Mason's scenery, hang her from the newly finished North City Gate for the night — pressed right up against the cement that hasn't fully dried yet. We shall see how much of Leighton's friendship remains when the sun rises tomorrow."
"No! I'll talk! I'll talk!"
The moment the words "hang from the city wall" reached her ears, the maidservant's last line of psychological defense collapsed completely. The image of slowly suffocating in wet mortar, exposed to the freezing wind for the entire city to watch — that terror far exceeded the reach of her loyalty.
"My master... is the Queen of Leighton!"
The moment those words fell, a wave of suppressed gasps swept through the solemn hall.
Delilah's hand snapped to her sword hilt: "The Queen? The old King of Leighton isn't dead yet — since when did someone else take that chair?"
Irene's sapphire eyes went wide; she forgot entirely to chew the candied fruit in her mouth: "Wait, I remember that old man was decrepit, but he hadn't abdicated yet, had he?"
"It... it's Princess Liliana!"
The maidservant collapsed into a shaking heap on the floor, her words tumbling out at breakneck speed, as though a single second's delay would see her dragged away.
"Ever since the Princess returned from her visit to Mason, she became a completely different person. She brought back a great deal of information about the Black Rose Order, and then she began secretly reaching out to certain individuals."
She drew a shuddering breath, her eyes wide with horror.
"Just last month, she launched a coup. She had the King and Queen locked in a dungeon deep underground. The other princes and princesses — every last one who refused to swear loyalty was thrown in alongside them. Now, all of Leighton is saying she received divine revelation from the Queen of Mason, and intends to establish the same iron-fisted Order in Leighton."
A silence like death fell over the hall.
In that instant, every gaze converged without exception on the expressionless silver-haired girl seated upon the throne.
Willow's mind reeled.
Holy spirits above... is this Her Majesty's power of influence? A single brief visit — merely letting that Princess glimpse one corner of the Black Rose's glory — and it directly precipitated the overthrow of an ancient kingdom's government?
So Her Majesty had been waiting for this news all along. She deliberately burned those letters. She deliberately loosened the encirclement. Because she had already calculated that the Queen of Leighton, consumed by her worship of Her Majesty, would spiral into a kind of madness — desperately craving Her Majesty's recognition.
The ability to topple another nation without deploying a single soldier... this is the apex of the art of kingship.
Bardess had not been present for any of what came before, and so she genuinely believed that Princess Liliana had simply been inspired by their Majesty.
As expected of Her Majesty...
She doesn't even need to lift a finger. She simply needs to sit there, and her will sets like cement poured across foreign soil.
I finally understand why so many follow Her Majesty — and why she commands a power no other king can approach. This cross-border persuasion, this ability to command hearts across entire nations... it is nothing short of a Divine Miracle.
Sophia listened to the maidservant's account. Her fingertips traced a cold arc along the armrest, while inwardly, a flicker of resigned exasperation passed through her.
She had considered that the Leighton party might take action after returning home. She had not anticipated that the woman would go straight for a coup.
But on the surface, she simply let four words fall, utterly flat:
"Is that so."
Inside the Council Hall, the cool-toned alchemy lamp that Irene had personally calibrated cast a faint, pallid glow, painting the silver strands at Sophia's brow with a layer of frost-cold light.
"We wish to know."
Sophia crossed her legs, her slender fingers tapping the cold throne armrest in an unhurried, irregular rhythm — each beat landing with surgical precision on the maidservant's already fraying nerves.
"Your Queen — what exactly did she intend to accomplish by sending a pawn like you, who can barely string two sentences together? Was that letter, written like something out of a street-stall pulp novel, meant to probe the quality of Our sleep?"
"I... I..."
The maidservant shook uncontrollably, her chattering teeth audible in the silent hall. She looked into Sophia's pale-gold eyes and felt as though her very soul was being cast into the ice fields of the far north.
"Her Majesty is asking you a question. If your tongue only knows how to tie itself in knots, We don't mind trimming it for you."
Delilah gave a cold snort, and her broadsword sang a clear, ringing note as it cleared its scabbard.
She stepped forward, and the icy blade pressed flat against the side of the maidservant's sweat-soaked neck — drawing a shriek of pure terror.
"Ahh——! Don't kill me! I'll talk! I'll talk!"
The maidservant crumpled on the floor, gasping with short, frantic breaths like a fish out of water.
"Her Majesty — Queen Liliana — she wants to reach a cooperation agreement with you! She has discovered... discovered movements among other nations! If you don't cooperate, Mason will be dragged into it as well!"
"Movements?"
Sophia raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. Deep within those golden eyes, a glimmer of dark, unreadable light passed through.
Overwhelmed by terror, the maidservant kowtowed frantically, the dull thud of her forehead against the marble echoing through the cavernous hall:
"Yes! Movements! Recently... shadows that don't belong to Leighton have been infiltrating its borders. Her Majesty intercepted a secret communiqué — several nations... appear to be planning a joint strike against the Imperial Capital!"
Those words landed like a boulder dropped into a deep pool, sending a thousand waves crashing outward.
The candied fruit in Irene's hand tumbled to the floor with a soft plop. Her face was a picture of disbelief: "The Imperial Capital? Have those small nations lost their minds? That's the ancient dragon coiled at the heart of the entire continent — going after the Imperial Capital is no different from suicide!"
Willow's gaze, however, snapped directly to Sophia, her eyes carrying a quality of extreme, measured calm:
"Your Majesty, if they truly intend to move against the Imperial Capital, then Mason — positioned as a central artery of transit — would indeed be the first to bear the blow."
Sophia listened, and yet showed not a flicker of panic. Instead, she let out a very quiet sigh.
That sound was barely audible — and yet carried in it a kind of regret that sent a chill crawling up the spine.
"Delilah. It seems this little maidservant still refuses to tell the truth. We have grown tired of stories like these — the kind meant to frighten children."
Sophia rose slowly from the throne, her moon-white silk sleeping robe shifting in the air around her.
"If they truly intended to move against the Imperial Capital, why would they share a secret capable of destroying entire kingdoms with Leighton? Or does your Queen take Us for a fool who would wager the fate of her nation on a far-fetched rumor?"
"Kill her. Clean disposal. The crops in the northern outskirts could use a little fertilizer."
"No!! I'm telling the truth! That was the Aurora Covenant's agreement — I saw their seal with my own eyes!"
The maidservant screamed. Delilah's broadsword had already broken the skin at her neck, and the scorching sensation of death arriving made her release the loudest sound she had ever produced in her life.
"It's the truth! Her Majesty sent me because she's afraid that these madmen will drag Mason into the chaos — she desperately wants to form a Black Rose Alliance with you! She has even prepared half of the old King's private treasury — all she asks is that you agree to meet with her once!"
Bardess watched as Sophia extracted every last word from this maidservant in just a handful of exchanges, and suddenly felt a sharp, retrospective awareness of every humiliation she had swallowed serving the spineless King of Qubi.
Back when Qubi had been crushed under Orr's thumb, they hadn't dared utter a single extra syllable.
So this is Her Majesty's technique for reeling in the fish.
She saw in an instant that this maidservant was still hiding the core intelligence. She deliberately used the threat of hanging from the city wall and beheading to reel her in and out — and even deployed an expression of utter disdain, forcing the other party to spit out a secret that even the Queen of Leighton would have moved mountains to keep buried.
So Her Majesty already knew there were movements around the Imperial Capital. Her recent frantic expansion of military forces, road construction, and talent recruitment — the target was never those border towns at all. It was preparation for the catastrophe about to sweep across the entire continent.
And under the crushing weight of such a situation, Her Majesty can still remain this composed, toying so expertly with the other party's envoy.
This mastery over the grand chessboard — this sovereign's art of control — it makes my very soul tremble.
Bardess, you must work harder. Far, far harder — just to reach half a step behind Her Majesty.
Sophia settled back upon the throne. Her silver sleeping robe caught the pale light around her. She tilted her head slightly, and her hair slid softly down over her shoulder.
"Cooperation is predicated on equal footing."
Sophia's voice remained as unruffled as still water, not a ripple of emotion in it.
"Since Liliana has launched a coup, what she holds in her hands should be considerably more than this unverifiable collection of rumors. Tell Us — what exactly does your Queen intend to offer in exchange for the Black Rose's approval?"
The maidservant, barely able to breathe with Delilah's blade at her throat, swallowed hard and desperately combed through every instruction the Queen had given her before departure.
The pressure bearing down on her made one thing unmistakably clear: the silver-haired girl before her was not negotiating. She was judging whether the maidservant deserved to keep on living.
"It's... it's about the Kingdom of Olan!"
The maidservant screamed, terrified that the broadsword would sever her throat in the very next second.
"Her Majesty says there is an important figure hidden within Olan's shadows! Someone... someone that you, Queen Sophia, have long been searching for! She says — forge this alliance, and Leighton will serve as the bridge to bring that person back to you!"
"Olan?!"
Before Sophia could even open her mouth, the ordinarily unshakeable Delilah's grip on her sword wrenched tight in an instant, her pupils contracting to pinpoints.
That name drove into the depths of her mind like a red-hot steel needle.
Olan... why Olan?
And the timing doesn't add up.
In my memories from my past life, the iron cavalry of the Kingdom of Olan marching on the Imperial Capital — that was supposed to be years from now.
So why, in this life, have they moved this fast?
Of course... in my past life, I was nothing but a killing instrument forged by Olan — a weapon that only knew slaughter. In that lightless, blood-soaked fortress, I was never privy to any core directives.
So all those border wars Olan launched so relentlessly back then — they were never about those meager scraps of territory. They were test bites. Preparation for swallowing the Imperial Capital whole.
If what the maidservant says is true — if that important figure has truly fallen into Olan's hands — then the catastrophe that destroyed everything in my past life may arrive in this one far ahead of schedule.
Your Majesty... had Your Majesty already calculated even this layer?
Sophia noticed Delilah's spine go rigid in that instant. A contemplative gleam passed through her pale-gold eyes.
She thought of the shadow mentioned in Delilah's secret report the night before, and of the cooperation the maidservant had just referenced.
"A candidate from Olan, is it..."
Sophia's slender fingertip tapped lightly against the edge of the throne. A smile of layered, unreadable meaning curved the corner of her lips.
"Liliana has a sharp pair of eyes. She knows We despise complications — and yet she also knew We would be unable to refuse a gift of cause and consequence delivered directly to Our door."
"Then. Since it is a cooperation — what does she want?"
"No... Her Majesty said she only wants a single promise from you."
The maidservant prostrated herself on the floor, trembling with reverence and fear.
"She said — only let the Black Rose banner shelter Leighton's borders when the storm arrives, and crown her as Queen Consort of Mason, and she will offer up the entirety of the old King's private treasury, and shall acknowledge you as... the Sovereign of the North."
Bardess, standing to one side, felt as though every drop of blood in her body had reversed its flow.
Sovereign of the North...
The Queen of Leighton had humbled herself to this degree — willing to cast aside even the dignity of her own crown, all to exchange it for Her Majesty's protection, and the title of Queen Consort.
What does this say? It says that within the uppermost circles of this world, the power Her Majesty has displayed has long since transcended all earthly kingship.
All that road-building, all that recruitment of refugees, all that conspicuous military drilling on the Drill Ground — none of it was ever about defense. It was all in preparation for this moment: the arrival of this opportunity to become Sovereign.
She deliberately slowed her hand against Leighton — just so that Princess would complete the coup herself, and then lay the whole of Leighton at Her Majesty's feet as tribute.
This level of calculation. This cross-border psychological dominion... Mason's territory is about to double overnight.
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