Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

The tender, emotional father vanished, immediately replaced by the hyper-vigilant, paranoid medical commander.

”Are you ill?!” Kaelus demanded, sitting up straight, his violet eyes wide with panic. He pressed the back of his bare, ungloved wrist against her forehead, checking for a fever. ”Is it the Capital smog? Did you consume a poisoned tart?! I will turn this carriage around and execute the Royal Baker!”

”I’m fine, Papa,” Seraphina sniffled, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. ”The tarts aren’t poisoned. They’re just very dusty.”

”Achoo!”

She sneezed again, louder this time.

Kaelus’s panic escalated.

He grabbed the heavy wool blanket from the opposite bench and meticulously wrapped her in it, turning her into a tiny, confused burrito.

”You are contracting a respiratory infection,” Kaelus diagnosed grimly, his mind already calculating the quickest route to the estate’s apothecary. ”The night air on the balcony was too cold. I knew that dress lacked thermal insulation. I am going to murder Madame Vionnet. I told her to line the velvet with warming runes!”

”Papa, I’m not sick!” Seraphina protested, struggling against her woolen prison. She wriggled her arms free, rubbing her nose again.

”Achoo!”

A third sneeze.

Seraphina frowned, her nose twitching furiously.

In her past life, she had read enough anime tropes and fantasy novels to know exactly what three consecutive sneezes without an underlying medical condition meant.

’Someone is talking about me,’ Seraphina’s adult mind deduced, narrowing her dark eyes suspiciously at the ceiling of the carriage. ’Someone is plotting. Someone is currently pacing a room somewhere, actively dedicating a significant portion of their brainpower to my existence.’

She thought about the Emperor. He was probably annoyed that she acted like a terrified toddler, ruining his plans to use her as leverage.

She thought about the snobby kids in the pavilion. They were probably still crying because she called them out on their mortgages.

And then, she thought about the strange, handsome, melancholic man with the black eyes on the balcony.

A sudden, strange shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran down her spine.

”Who is thinking about me?” Seraphina mumbled aloud, rubbing her nose.

”I am currently thinking about procuring hot tea and a medical specialist,” Kaelus replied, entirely misunderstanding her superstitious mumbling.

He knocked urgently on the ceiling of the carriage. ”Sir Lucas! Increase speed! The Sovereign is exhibiting symptoms of airborne illness!”

”Double time!” Sir Lucas’s muffled roar echoed from outside, followed by the sharp crack of reins and the thunderous acceleration of the warhorses.

The carriage surged forward, tearing through the quiet, moonlit streets of the high-noble district.

Seraphina let out a muffled sigh, giving up the struggle against the heavy wool blanket. She slumped against Kaelus’s chest, allowing the paranoid warlord to coddle her.

Let whoever was plotting out there in the dark plot all they wanted. Let them scheme, let them whisper, and let them plan their grand, dramatic infiltrations.

She was surrounded by a literal army of heavily armored giants, she had a father who was currently prepared to execute a baker over a sneeze, and her ghost network was actively reading the mail of half the Capital.

’Bring it on,’ Seraphina smiled sleepily, closing her eyes as the carriage raced toward home. ’Whatever you are planning... I hope you brought your own ducks. Because mine are already deployed.’

***

The days following the Imperial Banquet settled into a strange, highly fortified rhythm within the towering white walls of the Nacht Capital Estate.

The storm of high-society politics raged outside, but inside the warded manor, Seraphina von Nacht had successfully established a peaceful, deeply comfortable routine of snacking and espionage.

In Kaelus’s private study, the geopolitical war room had officially been co-opted.

Alistair, the Chief Administrative Aide, stood before the Archduke’s massive mahogany desk, his flawless, aristocratic face pinched into an expression of reluctant respect. He placed a thick, leather-bound ledger onto the polished wood, sliding it toward Kaelus.

”The audit of the Western Marches is complete, Your Grace,” Alistair reported, his melodic voice completely devoid of its usual arrogant lilt. ”We have successfully seized three hidden offshore accounts belonging to the Viscount, totaling roughly four million gold pieces.”

Alistair swallowed hard, his emerald eyes shifting uncomfortably toward the plush corner of the study, where Seraphina was currently brushing the pink ember-puppy, Ignis.

”I must formally note for the official record,” Alistair continued, his voice tight, as if the words burned his throat, ”that the preliminary intelligence regarding the broken bridge on the East Road, which served as the catalyst for this audit, was provided by the Lady Seraphina. Her... intuition regarding the Viscount’s infrastructure embezzlement was flawlessly accurate.”

Kaelus von Nacht did not look up from the ledger.

A slow, incredibly dark, fiercely proud smirk touched his pale lips.

”The little Sovereign’s intuition is a highly classified military asset, Alistair,” Kaelus rumbled, turning a page. ”Ensure the recovered funds are routed directly into the Vanguard’s armory budget. And procure another crate of star-peaches for her corner. She has earned a bonus.”

”Yes, Your Grace,” Alistair bowed stiffly.

Seraphina paused her brushing, looking up at the beautiful, blonde-haired scholar.

Alistair met her gaze for exactly one second.

His emerald eyes instantly shuttered, locking down behind an impenetrable wall of cold, professional distance.

He didn’t offer a small smile or didn’t acknowledge her brilliance with a nod. He simply averted his eyes, gathered his remaining files, and executed a rigid, military pivot before marching out of the study.

Seraphina watched the heavy oak doors click shut.

She tilted her head, her soft cheeks puffing out in genuine confusion.

’He is so weird,’ Seraphina’s mind analyzed, picking up a comb to tackle a knot in Ignis’s ashy fur.

’He knows I’m a genius. We literally spent four hours debating economic policy. And yet, the moment the lesson is over, he looks at me like I am an unexploded bomb. He actively avoids being in the same room as me unless Papa is here.’