"Your Majesty..."
Willow called out softly, her eyes filled with admiration for the Queen.
Sophia was also somewhat surprised.
Oh, so this is how they praise me behind my back.
Although the word 'Tyrant' still doesn't sound very good, for the sake of their reverence, I won't hold it against them for now.
Besides, after listening to it for a long time, it actually has a unique flavor.
"Let us go."
Sophia spoke in a cold, clear voice.
"Let's go to the Leighton people's stalls. I want to see what rare items they have brought."
She walked in front, her pace remaining elegant and steady, her black cloak sweeping through the night.
Delilah followed closely, her gaze more determined than ever before.
She knew that what she was guarding was not just a Queen, but the only hope of the Kingdom of Mason.
The lights on the avenue were much brighter than usual; the arrival of the Leighton caravan was like casting a stone into this barren land.
Sophia and her party passed through the bustling crowd, preparing to head toward the central stall of the Leighton caravan.
However, just as they turned past an alley entrance selling crude leather goods, a harsh cursing sound shattered the harmony.
"Get lost! You dirty little beast!
"Don't dirty my territory!"
It was a pot-bellied stall helper, waving a wooden stick covered in muddy water, viciously driving away a small figure curled up in the shadows.
Delilah's footsteps stopped instantly, a cold glint flashing across her eyes.
Willow and Irene also subconsciously looked over; immediately, their expressions changed from surprise to deep sympathy and anger.
It was an extremely thin and small girl.
She looked to be only about four or five years old, so frail she resembled a withered sheet of paper that could be blown away by the wind at any moment.
Her messy hair was matted into clumps, and her face was covered in pitch-black grime. Only her surprisingly large eyes revealed a longing bordering on despair within the dim alley.
At this moment, her hand was tightly clutching a vegetable core that had just been dug out of the mud and trampled into mush.
"I... I didn't steal anything..."
The girl's voice was as thin as a mosquito's buzz. Her cracked lips trembled slightly, yet she stubbornly huddled in the corner.
"You still dare to talk back!"
The helper raised the wooden stick with a face full of disgust.
"For a bastard like you that no one wants, dying in a ditch is where you belong!
"Get far away, don't affect my business!"
Delilah's longsword had already been unsheathed by an inch.
In the memories of her past life, this kind of scum who bullied the weak did not deserve to live under the sun.
Just as she was about to step forward and sever that wooden stick along with the helper's hand, a cold, small hand gently pressed down on her wrist.
Sophia had walked to the very front without anyone noticing.
She pulled her hood low, her pale golden pupils flickering with a chilling light in the shadows that sent shivers down one's spine.
She did not fly into a rage as Irene expected; instead, she walked into the alley with an extremely steady and cold pace.
That terrifying sense of oppression belonging to a superior, even through the cloak, instantly caused the clamoring helper to break out in a cold sweat.
"What are you doing?"
Sophia spoke.
Her voice was not loud, yet it carried an unquestionable sense of judgment.
The helper froze. He looked at this hooded young girl with a noble temperament, then looked at the mercenary beside her with eyes like sharp blades, and his momentum instantly dropped by half.
"Miss, this... this little beggar is affecting business. I was just driving her away."
Sophia did not look at him; instead, she lowered her head to look at the little girl curled up on the ground.
The little girl was also looking at Sophia.
In her vision, this big sister had an extremely pleasant smell about her.
It was a fragrance mixing the scent of milk and wild mint, a taste of heaven she had never touched in her entire life.
Tsk, so thin. What kind of labor can she produce?
Sophia sighed internally.
She even has to pick up Black Bread crumbs. Has my Kingdom of Mason become poor to this extent?
If this future taxpayer starves to death now, that would truly be my loss.
"Willow."
Sophia called out coldly.
"This servant is here."
Willow hurriedly stepped forward.
"Give her a newly bought wheat cake."
Sophia paused, her eyes turning back to the helper, her tone becoming as cold as the ice bricks of the West Tower.
"As for you, in Mason's laws, which article allows you to use private punishment on a subject who has not yet come of age?"
"I... I didn't..." The helper was so scared his legs went soft.
He didn't know the background of the young girl before him, but with a maidservant and a mercenary by her side, her status was certainly either rich or noble.
These residents of the Royal City had all been oppressed by those old nobles; seeing a young girl with such a posture, he naturally dared not refute her.
Delilah watched quietly from the side.
She had thought Sophia would directly kill this offender, but Sophia simply used that unwavering tone to announce a crueler punishment.
"Take him to see Valery.
"Tell the Chancellor that such diligent manpower should not be wasted on a stall. The fertilizer pools in Kree Village are currently lacking people to clean them.
"Release him only when he has learned how to treat every inch of Mason's labor force equally."
Sophia's words were concise and clear, yet they revealed a majesty that made resistance impossible.
The helper was dragged away like a dead dog by the accompanying soldiers.
The alley returned to tranquility. The little girl, holding the wheat cake Willow had stuffed into her hands which still carried lingering warmth, stared blankly at Sophia.
"Eat."
Sophia looked down at her from above, her voice remaining cold.
"Thank you."
The little girl looked at Sophia in a daze, but as if due to some reason, her eyes were filled with despair.
She looked at the wheat cake in her hand, momentarily unsure of how to react.
At this moment, Willow whispered the little girl's information into Sophia's ear.
This little girl was named Hailey.
Although she looked only four years old, she was actually six this year.
Long-term hunger and malnutrition made her look much shorter than her peers.
Her parents had died early, and her grandmother, her only dependent, had also passed away during the cold spell a few days ago.
In an era where even adults could barely fill their stomachs, a six-year-old orphan was almost equivalent to a death sentence.
Every day, she could only rummage through garbage piles, eating moldy grass roots, bitter tree bark, or even picking up Black Bread crumbs mixed with soil from under other people's stalls.
Just now, she was beaten by the stall owner because she picked up a crumb of bread from the ground that was smaller than a fingernail.
Sophia nodded, then said:
"Once you are full, go to the Palace.
"Ask someone to take you to a pink-haired big sister named Irene in the West Tower.
"Tell her that the Queen needs a little helper to help feed the pigs."
Perfect. Those two piglets need someone to watch them, and children who have suffered from a young age are the most attentive.
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