Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

The dark mana acted as a metaphysical battery, binding to the physical plane.

”Board your vessels,” Seraphina commanded softly.

It was a highly efficient and ridiculous assembly line.

One by one, the ghosts floated down, pressing their translucent hands against the origami animals. With soft, crackling sounds of creasing parchment, the spirits sucked themselves directly into the paper.

The origami animals instantly sprang to life.

The paper frogs let out silent, magical ribbits, hopping in place. The badgers waddled, their tiny paper claws scratching against the velvet cushions.

Seraphina mentally projected the day’s assignments into the minds of her newly minted, expensive spy network.

Seraphina pretended to be an adult as she gave out missions to each squad, making a hilarious little show by herself.

’Squad Alpha!’

’Yes, Sir!’

’You are assigned to the grand dining hall. I want full audio transcripts of the visiting diplomats!’

’Squad Bravo!’

’Yes, Sir!’

’Filter through the ventilation shafts leading to the servant’s quarters. Head Maid Genevieve has been quiet, but I want eyes on her inkwell!’

’And Squad Charlie!’

’Yes, Sir!’

’I want you deployed to the perimeter walls. Watch the Imperial Guards stationed outside. If they accept bribes, log their badge numbers!’

The paper animals nodded in unison.

With a flutter of wings and shuffling of paper feet, the entire squadron dispersed.

They didn’t walk out the door; they simply phased seamlessly through the dark mahogany floorboards, sinking into the architecture of the estate, dispersing into the shadows like a swarm of silent, cute, incredibly lethal intelligence operatives.

Seraphina smiled, picking up a chocolate eclair and taking a victorious bite.

***

For the next hour, Seraphina sat in her corner, chewing happily, her mind a flurry of incoming data.

The ghosts were exceptional spies. They possessed centuries of experience observing the high nobility, and they delighted in their new, corporeal forms.

Information was flowing into her brain like a cascading river of high-society gossip and political maneuvering.

But observing from afar was only half the battle.

A true mastermind needed to cross-reference her field intelligence with hard, classified data.

And the hardest, most classified data in the entire estate was currently sitting on top of Duke Kaelus’s massive desk.

Kaelus didn’t seem to notice the decrease of her paper animals, nor would he ask about it even if he knew.

If Seraphina was happy playing with them, that’s all that matters. Plus, for the daughter of the richest man in the Empire, playing with some little papers wasn’t even considered as wasting money.

Seraphina finished her eclair, dusting the crumbs from her lap.

She looked across the room.

Kaelus was deeply engrossed in a towering stack of coded military dispatches.

His brow was furrowed, his violet eyes tracking the lines of text with cold, terrifying speed. He was a monolith of concentration, appearing as unapproachable to any sane human being.

But that was fine. Seraphina was not a sane human being either.

She was a six-year-old with a security clearance that surpassed the Emperor’s.

She waddled across the room, her soft socks sliding slightly on the polished floor. She approached the side of the heavy leather chair where Kaelus sat.

She didn’t ask for permission.

She didn’t announce her presence.

Seraphina reached up with her tiny hands, grabbing the heavy, silver-studded leather belt cinched tightly around Kaelus’s waist.

She hauled her right foot up, planting her small feet directly onto the Archduke’s kneecap.

Kaelus von Nacht, the Reaper of the North, a man who would instantly decapitate any assassin who dared to breathe within his personal space, did not even flinch.

He didn’t look down.

He didn’t stop reading the death warrant in his hands.

With the completely subconscious muscle memory of a heavily trained father, Kaelus simply shifted his posture.

He subtly angled his thigh, locking his knee into a rigid, stable ninety-degree angle, transforming his own leg into a supportive, structural step-stool.

He subtly lowered his left arm, allowing the heavy, midnight-velvet fabric of his sleeve to act as a climbing rope.

Seraphina grunted, hoisting her body weight up.

She used his belt as a handhold, stepped off his knee, and scrambled directly into his lap, crawling over his lapels like a determined mountaineer scaling a particularly sharp, brooding cliff face.

She settled herself comfortably in the crook of his lap, leaning her back against his broad chest, swinging her short legs in the empty air beneath the desk.

Kaelus finally looked down.

His violet eyes softened by a fraction. Without a word, he shifted his left arm, wrapping it securely around her waist to ensure she wouldn’t fall off the edge of his lap, effectively locking her into a cage of protection.

Then, completely unbothered by the fact that he was currently being utilized as human furniture, the Archduke raised his classified document higher and continued reading.

It was exactly what Seraphina wanted.

Sitting securely in his lap, Seraphina possessed the ultimate, undisputed high-ground.

She had a flawless, unobstructed bird’s-eye view of every single document spread across the mahogany desk.

She rested her chin on her hands, staring intently at the parchment Kaelus was holding.

To Kaelus, she was simply a sleepy child wanting cuddles.

The Human StaircaseIn reality, her brain, aided by the superhuman cognitive processing speed she had unlocked, was speed-reading military ciphers upside down.

’Ah,’ Seraphina’s internal monologue noted, her eyes tracking a list of noble crests. ’The Viscount of the Western Marches is requesting a influx of grain. But Squad Alpha reported his harvests were bountiful. He isn’t feeding his people; he’s hoarding rations to supply an unsanctioned mercenary army. Fascinating! I’ll have Butt-tolomeow send a duck to audit his armory tonight!

She continued to silently read over his arm, cross-referencing the lies of the Empire’s nobleman with the boots-on-the-ground intelligence provided by her ghostly spies.

She was building an impenetrable web of blackmail, preparing for the inevitable moment when the Capital attempted to strike at her father.

The peaceful reading session was interrupted by a sharp knock at the study doors.