Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

Voran let out a strangled, terrified squeak.

He knew Kaelus was not exaggerating.

He knew the Archduke had literally frozen an assassin’s throat days ago in Oakhaven.

”GUARDS!” Voran shrieked, scrambling out of his chair, abandoning all dignity. ”Nannies! Handmaids! Get her out of here! Right now! Take her to the East Wing! Lock the doors!”

Four terrified nannies sprinted into the dining hall, grabbing the flailing, screaming Drusilla by the arms and dragging her backward.

”NO! LET ME GO! I WANT THE HANDSOME PAPA! HE’S MINE! SHE’S JUST A STRAY! I’LL HAVE YOU ALL FLAYED!” Drusilla’s shrieks echoed down the corridor, slowly fading away as the heavy iron doors were slammed shut behind her.

The silence that returned to the dining hall was deafening.

Duke Voran stood by his chair, panting heavily, sweat pouring down his face, utterly humiliated in his own fortress.

He looked at Kaelus, terrified that the Archduke would use the insult to declare war.

Kaelus picked up his silver knife, returning his attention to Seraphina’s plate again.

”You may resume eating, Seraphina,” Kaelus murmured smoothly, his aura relaxing back into its protective, warm hum. ”The annoying hazard has been cleared.”

Seraphina happily picked up her fork, unfazed by the situation.

She grabbed a piece of roasted carrot and chewed it happily.

She lifted her small hands and firmly grabbed the sleeve of Kaelus’s dark coat, scooting her chair closer to him, pressing her shoulder against his arm in a blatant display of ownership.

’Hmph! He’s my grumpy hedgehog,’ Seraphina thought smugly, feeling the warm, safe hum of his dark mana wrapping around her. ’If you need one, go find your own, red-haired girl.’

Kaelus paused his cutting.

He looked down at the tiny girl pressing herself against his side.

He saw the grip on his sleeve, and the childish smugness radiating from her small face.

The Archduke of the North, the man who had been propositioned by an eight-year-old child, felt a warm surge of pride swell in his chest.

She wasn’t intimidated or jealous for a child.

She knew exactly what her position was, and she knew that the loudest, wealthiest brat in the Empire couldn’t take her place.

She had looked at the screaming competition and dismissed her as ’bad vibes.’

It was the most fiercely Northern, arrogantly confident thing she had ever done.

Kaelus’s lips curved into a dark, satisfied, and handsome smirk.

”Sir Lucas,” Kaelus drawled, his voice laced with amusement, not taking his eyes off his smug young daughter.

”Yes, Your Grace,” Lucas replied, his voice shaking slightly as he desperately continued to fight back his laughter.

”Remind me to order a new set of earplugs for the Vanguard before we depart this city,” Kaelus sneered, his voice carrying perfectly to the trembling Duke Voran. ”It appears the local wildlife is entirely un-domesticated.”

”It shall be done, Your Grace!” Lucas barked, finally letting a short, sharp bark of laughter escape.

The rest of the dinner proceeded in blissful, terrified silence.

Duke Voran ate his boar meat mechanically, staring at his plate, thoroughly defeated.

Kaelus meticulously audited every single bite of food that entered Seraphina’s mouth, and Seraphina chewed happily, secure in the certainty that in the battle for the best Papa in the Empire, she had already won the war.

The heavy doors of the guest annex study were locked, bolted, and sealed with a high-tier, sound-dampening ward of pure dark mana.

Duke Kaelus von Nacht, the Reaper of the North, the man who had single-handedly held the Glacial Abyss against a tide of demonic leviathans, was currently engaged in the most terrifying, incomprehensible, and soul-crushing campaign of his entire life.

He was reading a parenting book.

Specifically, he was reading a heavily battered, anonymously sourced volume titled: The Imperial Sprout: A Comprehensive Guide to the Psychological Development of the Noble Toddler, Volumes I-III.

He had secretly ordered Sir Gallahan to procure it from the finest bookstore in Oakhaven before their departure, threatening the knight with latrine duty if a single soul ever discovered the purchase.

Kaelus sat behind the mahogany desk, his broad shoulders hunched forward, his violet eyes scanning the dense blocks of text as if he were trying to decipher an ancient, apocalyptic prophecy.

He dragged a finger down the page, his lips moving in a silent, horrified whisper.

...Section IV, Chapter 7: The Necessity of the Tantrum.

A healthy, developing child must exhibit frequent, loud, and entirely irrational outbursts of emotional volatility. This is a critical milestone in establishing boundaries. A child who does not scream without any reason, demand unreasonable concessions, or attempt to physically assault their guardian over trivial matters such as the color of a drinking goblet is a child suffering from Severe Emotional Repression...

Kaelus stopped reading.

The heavy, leather-bound book slipped from his hands, landing on the desk with a dull thud.

The Archduke leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the vaulted ceiling of the study.

A cold wave of fatherly dread washed over him.

Severe Emotional Repression.

The words echoed in his mind like a death knell.

He closed his eyes, mentally reviewing the past two weeks of his daughter’s behavior.

Seraphina did not scream.

She did not throw herself onto the floor and demand ponies.

When he served her roasted vegetables, she ate them.

She chewed them exactly thirty times, as instructed.

When it was time for bed, she did not fight him; she just crawled under his heavy mantle, said ”Goodnight, Papa,” and went to sleep.

When he had told her they were extending the journey across the mountains to two weeks, she hadn’t thrown a tantrum.

She had accepted it and started making paper ducks.

To a normal parent, this behavior would be hailed as a miracle.

To Duke Kaelus von Nacht, freshly armed with the terrifying pseudo-science of The Imperial Sprout, it was like a psychological emergency.

’She is always too calm for a child of her age,’ Kaelus thought, a knot tightening in his chest.