Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

”...And focus on your studies, let Papa handle the rest.” Kaelus smiled fondly, standing up, unaware that he had just authorized the launch of the most devastating criminal syndicate in the history of the Imperial Capital.

Seraphina marched out of the study, a tiny, adorable harbinger of doom.

Count Valerius wanted a war over the bloodline.

He was about to learn that blood meant nothing when you were fighting a six-year-old armed with a ghost-duck intelligence agency, a revolutionary magical smartphone, and a handsome Archmage as her CEO.

The Capital was about to burn, and Seraphina was bringing the marshmallows.

***

The Nacht Capital Estate was no longer a sanctuary; it was a contested military zone undergoing a hostile occupation.

Count Valerius, having used the moldy laws of the Elder’s Council, had essentially decided to set up camp inside Kaelus’s home. He did not officially move in, but he arrived at nine o’clock every single morning, accompanied by his two silent, brooding shadows, Caspian and Elara.

The Count would plant his pompous, gold-embroidered behind on the most comfortable velvet sofa in the primary drawing room, demand the finest imported teas, and spend the entire day breathing the estate’s air.

It was a siege of pure annoyance.

The Count’s strategy was obvious: he intended to irritate Duke Kaelus von Nacht until the Archduke either capitulated to the political marriage demands, or snapped and committed murder in front of Imperial witnesses.

Kaelus was currently operating on a knife’s edge.

The terrifying Reaper of the North was handling the political invasion with terrifyingly silent restraint.

But Seraphina, who possessed a PhD in reading her grumpy hedgehog, knew exactly how close the estate was to an apocalyptic event.

Kaelus’s jaw was locked. The temperature in the manor had dropped so drastically that Alistair had been forced to issue winter-wear to the indoor maids in the middle of a Southern summer.

Every time Count Valerius spoke, the crystal goblets on the tables would vibrate with the suppressed density of the Archduke’s mana.

Alistair himself was currently consuming an alarming amount of herbal stress-tea, frantically calculating the legal and financial ramifications of dissolving an Archduke’s uncle in acid.

”I have drafted three separate contingency plans for hiding a corpse, Young Lady,” Alistair had whispered to Seraphina that morning, his beautiful emerald eyes twitching as he hid behind a towering stack of ledgers.

”I am reviewing the architectural blueprints to find a crawlspace large enough to accommodate a plump, mustachioed man. Please tell me you have a plan. The Duchy cannot afford a treason trial.”

”Relax, Auntie Alistair,” Seraphina had patted his trembling hand. ”The ducks are on it.”

Seraphina was, of course, doing her absolute best to make the Count’s life a living hell without ever being in the same room.

The gravity-assisted pantsing on the staircase had merely been the opening salvo.

Over the past four days, Count Valerius had experienced a streak of ’bad luck’ so devastating it bordered on the supernatural.

When he reached for his teacup, the gravity would momentarily invert, splashing scalding Earl Grey directly up his nostrils.

When he attempted to sit down, the heavy velvet chair would mysteriously slide two inches to the left, resulting in the Count depositing his tailbone onto the hard marble floor.

Once, his perfectly waxed, ridiculous mustache had curled upward and permanently adhered itself to the tip of his own nose, forcing him to speak through a curtain of his own facial hair for three hours.

The Count would scream, curse the servants, and accuse the Vanguard of sabotage.

But Seraphina was never anywhere near the scene of the crime.

She would ensure she was visible in the gardens, loudly reciting Imperial History to Professor Roan, securing a flawless alibi while her invisible dark mana sniped the Count from three rooms away.

However, amidst the comedic psychological warfare, Seraphina had noticed a highly contradictory variable.

Caspian and Elara.

According to the official narrative, Kaelus’s siblings had abandoned him to the freezing cold, allied themselves with the greedy Uncle, and returned to the Capital to gloat.

But Seraphina’s Spirit Sight and her cynical intuition painted a completely different picture.

Whenever Count Valerius took a tumble, or spilled tea on his ridiculous gold coats, Caspian and Elara did not leap to his aid with genuine concern.

They would remain silent, their faces locked in expressions of bored aristocratic superiority.

But Seraphina, watching through the eyes of her Duck Service Squad, could see the small twitch of Caspian’s lips. She could see Elara hiding a genuine, delighted smile behind her lace fan.

They hated the Count.

They were actively enjoying his torment.

And more importantly, their behavior toward Seraphina herself was entirely baffling.

****

It was early afternoon. Seraphina was waddling down the grand, blueberry-carpeted corridor on the second floor, heading toward the library to retrieve a book on advanced spatial wards.

She turned the corner and immediately stopped.

Standing halfway down the hall was Caspian.

The tall, blonde-haired nobleman was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his handsome face arranged into his usual, tragic, emotionally distant scowl.

He possessed the same sharp jawline as Kaelus, though his eyes were a pale, stormy gray rather than the glowing violet of the Reaper.

Seraphina paused, preparing to take a detour. She didn’t want to engage with the enemy faction without her hedgehog present.

But Caspian already saw her.

He didn’t sneer or insult her.

He quickly looked up and down the hallway, his gray eyes darting frantically to ensure they were completely alone.

The brooding, arrogant nobleman suddenly adopted the body language of a paranoid rogue executing a stealth mission behind enemy lines.

He pushed himself off the wall and took three rapid, long-legged strides toward her.

Seraphina narrowed her eyes, her Supreme Dark Core humming softly, ready to deploy a gravity-crush if he tried anything funny.

Caspian dropped to one knee right in front of her.

He didn’t speak.

He reached into the deep, velvet-lined pocket of his silver-embroidered coat. With the swift, practiced motion of a seasoned smuggler, he pulled out a small, beautifully wrapped object.

It was a premium, artisan-crafted, spun-sugar lollipop from La Petite Rêverie. The exact same bakery Kaelus had extorted.

It was shaped like a tiny, sparkling blue dragon.

Caspian urgently shoved the lollipop into Seraphina’s tiny hands.

Seraphina blinked, staring at the candy, then looking up at the brooding nobleman. ”What is this?”

”Bribe,” Caspian muttered, his voice a low whisper, lacking any aristocratic pomp. He looked around again, sweating slightly. ”The walrus— I mean, Count Valerius— doesn’t know I bought it. If he catches me giving you sugar, he’ll spend three hours lecturing me about fraternizing with the ’provincial threat’. Hide it in your sleeve. Quickly.”

Seraphina stared at him. Her brain completely misfired.

’The moody, traitorous brother just executed a covert drop of high-tier confectionery,’ Seraphina thought, utterly bewildered. ’He’s acting like he just handed me stolen nuclear launch codes. It’s just a lollipop, dude.’

Before Seraphina could ask a single question, Caspian reached out.

His large, calloused hand hovered awkwardly in the air for a second.

Then, with an incredibly gentle, almost hesitant motion, he patted the top of her dark head.

It wasn’t a condescending pat.

It was a soft, affectionate, and incredibly familial touch.

”Stay out of the drawing room today, kid,” Caspian whispered, his stormy gray eyes filled with a sudden, heartbreaking sadness. ”The old man is in a foul mood, and my brother... Kaelus looks like he’s ready to snap. Just... stay safe.”

And with that, the tall, brooding nobleman stood up, executed a silent pivot, and practically sprinted down the hallway, his silver coat swishing as he fled the scene like a phantom candy thief.

Seraphina stood alone in the corridor, holding the sparkling blue dragon lollipop.

’What the actual hell is wrong with this family?’ Seraphina thought, utterly exasperated. ’Papa Duke acts like a freezing murder-statue to hide his soft heart. The brother acts like an arrogant traitor, but secretly smuggles me artisan lollipops and gives me head pats. They are all emotionally constipated hedgehogs! They share the exact same DNA of catastrophic miscommunication!’

She unwrapped the lollipop, popped it into her mouth, and marched toward the secondary study.

She needed a sounding board.

***

Professor Roan Charte, Supreme Archmage of the East and newly appointed CEO of the Obsidian Network, was currently sitting behind the oak desk.