Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

The Lead Elder stated firmly, though he avoided looking directly at the glowing violet eyes of the Reaper. ”If you refuse to adopt a legitimate, blood-verified heir from the collateral branches... you must produce one yourself.”

Seraphina stopped dead in her tracks in the center of the room.

Her jaw literally dropped.

’Produce one?’ Seraphina’s brain screeched to a halt. ’Are they... are they telling him to reproduce? Are they mandating a political marriage?!’

Count Valerius reached forward, flipping the velvet portfolio open.

Inside were dozens of high-quality, magically enhanced painted portraits of beautiful, simpering noblewomen.

”We have compiled a list of the most eligible, fertile, potent daughters of the Capital’s elite High Houses,” Valerius announced, a greedy, manipulative gleam in his beady eyes. ”You are to select a bride before the end of the social season, Kaelus. You will get married, sire a true Nacht heir, and this... this phase of provincial fatherhood can be relegated to a hobby.”

The temperature in the study dropped to zero.

The velvet curtains on the windows instantly froze solid, shattering into thousands of frozen fabric shards that clattered against the floor.

The ink in the inkwells didn’t just freeze; the glass bottles exploded.

Kaelus von Nacht did not look at the portraits. He looked at the Elders.

”You dare,” Kaelus breathed, his voice vibrating with such suffocating mana that the Lead Elder actually clutched his chest, gasping for air. ”You dare to march into my home, insult my chosen future heir and the Sovereign, and attempt to chain me to a political broodmare?”

”It is the law of the Council!” Valerius shouted, though he took a terrified step backward. ”You cannot defy the unified Elders! If you do, we will formally petition the Emperor to invalidate your Archduchy!”

It was a brilliant, incredibly slimy political trap.

The Uncle had used the ancient traditions against him. Kaelus could slaughter enemies on the battlefield, but if the unified Elders formally declared him unfit to rule for refusing to secure the bloodline, the Emperor would have the legal pretext he desperately needed to send the Imperial Army into the North and seize the mythril mines.

Kaelus was trapped.

He was a warlord caught in a cage of paperwork and scheming old men.

He looked down at the portfolio of simpering, painted faces.

His stomach violently turned. The thought of allowing one of these shallow, manipulative Capital vipers into his home, into his life, into Seraphina’s life... it was repulsive, no matter what they says.

Seraphina stood in the center of the frozen room.

She looked at the terrified Elders, at the smug, punchable face of Count Valerius. She looked at the portraits of the noblewomen.

And then, she looked at Kaelus. She saw the disgust and quiet panic in his glowing violet eyes.

He was cornered. He was terrified that they would force a stranger into their perfect, two-person family.

An utterly terrifying wave of pure irritation washed over the six-year-old Sovereign.

’Oh, absolutely the hell not,’ Seraphina’s internal mastermind roared, her Supreme Dark Core pulsing with a hostile fury.

’Nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody, forces a stepmother on me without my express, written, negotiated consent. And they certainly aren’t going to force my grumpy hedgehog into a loveless, political marriage just to satisfy some moldy old men in robes.’

Seraphina didn’t cry. She didn’t scream.

She marched forward, her small boots crunching over the shards of frozen velvet.

She reached the desk, grabbed the edge of the heavy, velvet-bound portfolio of bridal candidates.

With a swift, aggressive, and decisive motion, Seraphina shoved the entire portfolio off the desk. It hit the marble floor with a heavy THWACK, sliding across the ice to bump against Count Valerius’s shoes.

”Oops,” Seraphina said, her voice flat, cold, and entirely unapologetic.

The Elders gasped. Count Valerius went purple.

”You insolent brat!” Valerius shrieked, pointing his walking stick at her.

”Grand Uncle Valerius,” Seraphina interrupted, her childish voice dropping into a tone of such chilling, commanding authority that the older man actually snapped his mouth shut.

She looked at the Count, her dark eyes flashing with a promise of absolute, uncompromising ruin.

”Papa is not getting married,” Seraphina stated, crossing her tiny arms over her chest, standing like a shield in front of the Archduke. ”He doesn’t need a wife. And I don’t need a mother. We are very busy. The pink dog needs walking, and Papa has to brush my hair. We do not have room in the schedule for a shiny lady who smells like bad perfume.”

”This is not your decision, child!” the Lead Elder croaked, shivering in the cold. ”The lineage must be preserved!”

”The lineage is fine,” Seraphina shot back, glaring at the ancient lords. ”If you guys are so worried about babies, you can go marry the shiny ladies yourselves. But if you bring those pictures into my house again, I will have the kitchen staff bake them into a pie and feed them to the Vanguard.”

Kaelus von Nacht stood frozen behind his desk.

The crushing panic inside his chest evaporated all of a sudden, replaced by an overwhelming surge of fierce, triumphant pride.

She was defending him. She was actively, aggressively rejecting the concept of a replacement family.

She wanted it to be just the two of them.

The Archduke’s dark aura instantly shifted from defensive rage to offensive amusement.

”You heard the Sovereign,” Kaelus drawled, stepping around the ruined desk, placing a heavy, protective hand on Seraphina’s small shoulder. He looked at the Elders with a dark, wicked smirk. ”The schedule is full. The hair-brushing takes priority over your archaic bloodline laws.”

”This is madness!” Valerius bellowed, completely losing his composure. ”You are defying the Council! We will return to the Senate! We will draft the petition!”

”Draft whatever you please, Count Valerius,” Kaelus rumbled, his violet eyes glowing with lethal promise. ”But know this. If you attempt to force a bride into this estate, she will not survive the winter. The North is cold, Uncle. And accidents happen frequently on the icy stairs.”

The threat was absolute. It was a promise of murder.

The Elders, realizing they were currently in a freezing room with a highly unstable warlord and a feral, territorial child, decided that their lives were worth more than the succession laws.

They scrambled out of their chairs, practically tripping over their robes in their haste to flee the study.

Count Valerius snatched the portfolio from the floor, glaring venomously at Kaelus and Seraphina.

”You will regret this, Kaelus,” Valerius hissed. ”The Empire will not tolerate a mudblood Heir. The storm is coming.”

”Let it come,” Kaelus sneered. ”I am the Reaper. I thrive in the storm.”

The Count turned and fled, the heavy oak doors remaining wide open in his wake.

The study fell silent, save for the crackling of the sublimating ice.

Kaelus looked down at Seraphina. He dropped to one knee, ignoring the cold floor, and pulled her into a tight, desperate, incredibly grateful hug.

”Thank you, Mushroom,” Kaelus whispered into her dark hair, his voice thick with emotion. ”I... I do not want a bride. I do not want anyone else.”

”I know, Papa,” Seraphina patted his back, her small face set in a look of profound, terrifying determination. ”They’re just being stupid bugs.”

She hugged him tightly, but her adult mind was racing at a million miles an hour.

’The Uncle is escalating,’ Seraphina analyzed, her Supreme Dark Core humming with dangerous intent. ’He isn’t just throwing insults anymore. He’s organizing the Council. He’s trying to use the law to force a wedge into our family. He’s trying to surround Papa with spies via marriage.’

Seraphina pulled back, looking at Kaelus’s exhausted, pale face. He had fought the demons of the abyss.

He shouldn’t have to fight his own family’s bureaucracy.

’Fine,’ Seraphina thought, a slow, wicked smirk creeping across her soft cheeks. ’If the Count wants to play high-stakes political warfare, we’ll play. But I’m not going to fight him in the Senate. I’m going to destroy him in the shadows.’

She needed to accelerate her plans.

The Obsidian Network needed to go live immediately.

”Papa,” Seraphina chirped, her voice light and cheerful. ”Can I go have my afternoon lesson with Professor Roan now? We have a very important... geometry project to finish.”

”Of course, little mushroom, don’t worry about anything.”