Filed to story: Queen of the Battlefield Her Return to Glory Novel Online Free
While waiting for news from Jeremiah, Sophie visited Zoey in prison. This time, she had Randall bring Zoey to the back courtyard of the Supreme Court, where they had some meat porridge prepared for her. Zoey looked terribly worn-her face gaunt and her body frail, with large eyes that seemed devoid of life. As she looked at the porridge in front of her, inhaling its fragrant aroma, tears fell from her eyes in heavy drops.
Sophie didn’t try to comfort her, letting her cry it all out.
Zoey had likely been holding back her tears for a long time. In Astral Prison, she was the pillar of strength for everyone, the one who couldn’t show weakness. She had to keep her spirit alive, for if she faltered, everyone else would lose hope.
When her tears finally subsided, she picked up the now lukewarm porridge and began to eat, her hands trembling. She hesitated, the thought of saving some for her children tugging at her heart. But she knew that was impossible.
After Zoey finished one bowl, Sophie could see that it wasn’t enough and asked for another to be brought.
Zoey’s voice, choked with emotion, broke the silence, “That’s enough, Your Grace. Thank you.”
One bowl of porridge, in her family’s current state, was a luxury.
“Mrs. Prince, you need to pull yourself together,” Sophie said softly.
Zoey gave a bitter smile. “Why call me that? I’m just a woman who has sinned.”
Sophie fell quiet for a bit before saying, “Then, let me call you Zoey.”
That seemed to pull Zoey out of her daze. How long had it been since anyone had called her in such a familiar manner?
“Do you have any news of him? Will he be caught?” Zoey asked, her voice filled with desperation as she lifted her tear-filled eyes to Sophie.
Every day, all she could think about was Oliver’s capture. Her children’s survival depended on it.
Sophie shook her head, regretfully replying, “No news yet. Although the arrest order has been issued, with wars breaking out everywhere, they probably can’t spare the resources.”
“If he dies, I hope it’s in a place where someone will see it. At least if a body is found, that would give us some chance of survival,” Zoey said bitterly as she wiped away tears, her voice barely holding stable. “I don’t care if I die, but seeing my children suffer, living in fear every day, is breaking my heart.”
Sophie gently patted her back and asked, “Are the headaches still bothering you?”
“It’s much better now, thanks to you.” She tried to take Sophie’s hand, but when she saw her own hands -dirty and blackened, the stench unbearable-she instinctively pulled back. “I’m filthy. Don’t come too close.
Sophie smiled at her. “You’re not filthy. Your heart is still pure.”
Zoey smiled through her tears, a small, shaky laugh escaping her. She had needed a place to cry, a familiar face to help bolster her strength. Now, she was feeling much better. Her resolve would remain strong.
Although it wasn’t proper, Sophie had someone buy two pots of meat porridge before Zoey returned to her cell. She told Zoey that it was a gesture of thanks from the common people, to repay her for her years of distributing food.
This time, Zoey was moved to tears. She wished so much that her children could have a bowl of hot porridge, even if just a small spoonful.
After leaving the Supreme Court, Sophie paused for a moment before instructing Jacob to spread the story of the supposedly donated porridge.
Once, people had spoken highly of Zoey’s charity. Over time, however, the talks had dwindled. Now, Sophie saw an opportunity to reignite that warmth, using this small act of kindness to revive Zoey’s image.
Naturally, Jacob spun the tale a little more, embellishing it with compassion. He spoke of a man who had once been a starving refugee from the outskirts of the capital. He had been barely alive, eating the porridge at the charity stalls for several days. Before he left the city, the stall attendants had given him a package of dry rations.
Now, the man had heard of Zoey’s misfortune. Although his life was still hard, he had traveled to the capital, bringing with him two pots of hot meat porridge as a token of his gratitude, and begged to have it sent to the prison for his benefactor.
Randall, the one in charge of Astral Prison, was moved when he heard the full story. He made an exception and allowed Zoey’s family to receive the meat porridge.
The story of gratitude spread through the streets, quickly filling every corner of the city. The talk turned once more to the Earl of Silverstone’s family and Zoey’s strength of character. People began to speak of her again, pitying her and condemning the treatment she had received.
Many felt that Zoey’s fall from grace wasn’t due to her own shortcomings, but rather the collapse of her family’s fortunes. It was also because she didn’t have any maternal family members to rely on, making her an easy target for Oliver’s repeated mistreatment.
The more they learned of Oliver’s cruelty, the more sympathy they felt for Zoey.
Soon, the Oversight Department caught wind of the stories. Once again, reports were sent to Salvador- this time, while he lay on his sickbed.
Salvador had just heard from Jeremiah about the change in the riverworks project workers, and was now listening to the tale of the grateful citizen who had traveled so far to deliver the porridge. Perhaps because of his own recent illness, the king’s heart was softer.
Jeremiah spoke gently, adding that it was clear that Oliver, who was in the wrong, had expected his family to suffer for it. Even during his escape, he likely foresaw what awaited them. And now, the man who had caused all this harm was safe, while his family suffered.
On the other hand, Zoey was truly pitiable. She had never known peace since marrying Oliver, much like Sophie when she was married to Blake.
The difference was that Zoey’s situation was even more tragic. At least Sophie was young and had martial arts skills. Able to fight on the battlefield and earn achievements, she wouldn’t waste her years and end up imprisoned in Astral Prison.
After a long silence, Salvador ordered, “The women of the Prince family are to be demoted to commoners. The men are to be exiled to the Southern Frontier for three years. As for the rest of the household servants, they are free to go as they please.”
“Your wisdom is unmatched, Your Majesty!” Irvin exclaimed, quickly bowing in gratitude on behalf of the Prince family.
After sending Irvin away, Salvador summoned his strength to rise from his bed. He called for a meeting with the Ministry of Defense, the Ministry of Infrastructure, and Sophie, the commander of the Mystic Army.
Edwin was paralyzed with dread. He could hardly believe that such a critical project had fallen into such disarray. Where had the conscripted laborers gone? Who had they been replaced with?
As his mind raced in panic, he felt as though his position Minister of Infrastructure was now hanging by a thread. Without thinking, he glanced toward Sophie, who was speaking about defense matters with such precision. He couldn’t help but admire her; he hadn’t expected her to work so quickly.
Salvador was taken aback too. He watched Sophie, who had laid out a map on the table, guiding her fingers from one checkpoint to another. Her words were clear and concise, her plan unfolding effortlessly. The distribution of troops and their roles were laid out in just a few short sentences, all perfectly understood.
Salvador looked at her bright, determined eyes, her face almost glowing with focus. For a moment, he lost himself in the sight.
Just then, Sophie finished speaking and turned to him. Noticing his silence, she mistook his expression for dissatisfaction.
“Do you think the Sacred Fire Regiment shouldn’t be used, Your Majesty?” she asked.
The Sacred Fire Regiment was responsible for guarding the palace and the city gates. Since the first batch of six-barreled matchlocks had already been sent to the Southern Frontier, the Ministry of Defense and Isaac were working quickly to assemble more.
When Salvador didn’t respond immediately, Sophie added, “The Mystic Army has its own Sacred Fire Regiment. Though we’ve always used single-shot matchlocks, we’ll be fine with a bit of training. You needn’t worry. If that doesn’t work, we can use arrows. Our Elite Marksmanship Unit is also quite formidable.”
Salvador was taken aback by the brilliance in her eyes. She handled such a crisis with remarkable calmness, making many men pale in comparison.
“Good,” he said at last, his throat tight.
He wanted to say more, but for some reason, the words wouldn’t come out.
The Mystic Army’s defensive measures turned the capital into a place of unease and tension. With a curfew in place, many businesses in the entertainment districts found their activities stifled. Coffeehouses and taverns closed their doors at sunset, and by night, the city seemed as lifeless as a tomb.
The strategy now was simple-if the enemy did not move, neither would they.
The riverworks project continued without interruption. As long as the work did not stop unnecessarily, the Mystic Army would remain on standby, prepared to mobilize at any moment. Sophie knew that this was the only way to gain an advantage.
If the work remained uninterrupted, it would benefit both the court and the people.