Chapter 32: The Rise of Seraphine

Rosalie could not fall asleep. Far too much had transpired over the past few days, and she had only just learned that her beloved had returned from Eisenwald following a failed attempt on her life.

Even so, apart from spending hours delivering her report to Adelgarde, Seraphine hadn't checked in on her even once. Instead, she had gone straight to the bathhouse to scrub away the grime from being trapped underground, and then holed up in her bedchamber, ostensibly resting from her sustained injuries.

The young betrothed knew only that Seraphine was hurt, but had no idea how severely. She was simply worried to death over her well-being.

The truth, however, was entirely different - all of the elder heir's attention in the bathhouse and upon returning to her room had been utterly monopolized by Vivienne.

The noblewoman of House Drachenberg was secretly giving herself to Seraphine behind little Rosalie's back. No one in the fortress had the slightest inkling of their torrid affair, least of all the young bride-to-be.

In the end, Rosalie could bear the longing and anxiety no longer.

She slipped out of bed, threw on a modest, lace-trimmed white nightgown, and adjusted her golden twin-tails. Tiptoeing quietly across the cold flagstones, she cautiously slipped out of her chambers.

If anyone caught her on her way to the firstborn heir's bedchamber, a considerable scandal would erupt. Fortunately, the corridors were deserted. With her heart pounding like a hammer, she stopped outside Seraphine's door and, after a heartbeat of hesitation, knocked softly.

***

At that very moment, Seraphine was having the time of her life with her favorite plaything. She was in hardly any position to answer the door - a stark naked Vivienne was straddling her lap, riding her with muffled moans of pleasure as her massive, milky-white breasts bounced enticingly right before the heir's face.

Seraphine had no idea who could possibly be knocking at her chamber at such an ungodly hour. She immediately clamped a hand over the girl's moist lips, signaling her to freeze.

Before she could bark a sharp question through the timber, a familiar, sweet little voice carried from the hallway:

"Seraphine... are you awake? Is everything all right? I haven't seen you since you returned... May I come in?"

Seraphine instantly pulled her hard member from her favorite's tight depths. Leaning in, she hissed straight into Vivienne's ear:

"Under the bed. Now! And take your nightgown with you!"

Vivienne, though sorely disgruntled at being interrupted at such an exquisite moment, obediently slid off the mattress. Scooping her gossamer silk from the floor, she crawled under the bedframe on all fours.

She barely fit into the cramped space - her rounded, luscious buttocks and ample bosom squeezed beneath the wooden slats with great difficulty.

Seraphine swiftly pulled on a pair of loose trousers and cracked the door open just as Rosalie was turning to leave. In the dim glow of the oil lamp held by the girl, the heir's bruised torso, swathed in fresh bandages, was plainly visible.

Rosalie let out a small gasp of distress, instinctively placing a tiny hand against her hard abdomen:

"Oh, heavens..."

Seraphine, who was desperately trying to conceal her groin behind the door - where her member still stood proudly erect, slick with Vivienne's juices - felt distinctly self-conscious as the little one touched her taut muscles.

"Ahem... you know full well, little one, that you shouldn't be wandering here at this hour."

Rosalie pulled her hand back at once, her face burning scarlet:

"I couldn't sleep knowing you were hurt... I only wanted to see how you were faring."

Seraphine looked upon her with genuine tenderness. Unlike the insatiable vixen crouching beneath the bed, this little maiden was sincerely worried about her health. Fortunately, aside from the cracked rib and bruises, she was entirely unharmed. She smiled warmly:

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"I'm holding up, little one. I'm in no danger; there's no need to fret."

Rosalie exhaled in relief:

"That's a relief... Is there anything I can do to help?"

Seraphine decided this was a splendid chance to score points with her betrothed, and tease the hidden Vivienne beneath the bed while she was at it:

"Will you come in for a moment? Seeing as you're already here, we could go over a few details for our upcoming engagement gala."

Rosalie flushed an intense crimson. Alone in the bedchamber with her betrothed in the dead of night? It was shockingly improper.

Meanwhile, under the bed, Vivienne practically ground her teeth:

An engagement gala?! What gala?!

She's hosting a grand celebration with that little brat, and not a single word about me?!

Why is she making me listen to this?! What utter cruelty!

Jealousy squeezed her heart, and a bitter pout settled upon her lips. She knew she was merely a concubine and a slave, yet the sight of Seraphine's gentle affection toward her official betrothed burned like liquid fire.

Fortunately for her, Rosalie lowered her gaze:

"Forgive me, Seraphine... but that wouldn't be proper. We will talk on the morrow!"

The girl spun on her heel and, flushed with embarrassment, hurried back toward her chambers. Seraphine watched her swaying pigtails with amused affection. She closed the door, turned the key, and looked toward the bed, from beneath which Vivienne was slowly crawling out:

"I might have embarrassed her a bit too much... What do you think?"

Catching the tears of petulant jealousy welling in the noblewoman's blue eyes, she chuckled softly:

"Did I tease you a little too hard as well, my jealous little pet?"

Seizing the girl by the waist, she scooped her up effortlessly and tossed her onto the soft mattress, spending the remainder of the night making it up to her for that little torment in thorough detail.

***

Before she knew it, an entire month had slipped away. The pain in Seraphine's ribs vanished without a trace, and her body returned to peak physical condition.

The mines of Eisenwald had been thoroughly modernized and officially annexed by House Karsfeld as reparations for the assassination attempt on the heir.

The late Ulrike's house was left bereft of an army and influence, while not a trace remained of the fifteen hundred women of the peasant levy.

The fields surrounding Karsfeld were now completely linked by the network of irrigation pipes, and the women freed from agricultural toil reinforced the mines and the newly established textile manufactory.

In Sabine Keller's workshops, serial production of steel plows, seed drills, and early agricultural machinery was already under way.

The volunteer militia, meanwhile, experienced a veritable flood of recruits - the infantry battalion swelled to eight hundred musket-armed soldiers, and the artillery now commanded a full complement of field guns.

The intelligence network run by Vivienne bore magnificent fruit. The noblewoman provided Seraphine with a comprehensive roster of Cordelia's conspirators throughout the barony, and simultaneously ensured that tales of the elder heir's valiant heroism circulated widely among the common folk.

Whispers of a sickly weakling had evaporated - now the populace saw Seraphine as a fearless protector who, with a handful of peasant women and "thunderous tubes," had routed a treacherous rebel uprising.

Seraphine stood before the full-length mirror in her private bathhouse.

Three months had passed since she had awakened in this body. In place of an emaciated, sickly pale girl, she now beheld a statuesque, proud noblewoman boasting a firm, perky bosom, a slender waist, and well-defined abdominal muscles.

Her futa member rested quietly between smooth thighs. She looked breathtaking - a sublime fusion of sensual feminine allure and the commanding strength born to rule.

Her ambitions had multiplied a hundredfold following the Battle of Eisenwald. She had no intention of settling for the modest lot of a frontier baroness. She aimed to unify these lands under her own crown and forge a consolidated empire.

In the grand strategy games of her former life, she had always played for the whole pot - she had no intention of doing anything less in this world.

Grand ambitions, however, had to wait a few days.

The official engagement gala with Rosalie was fast approaching.

The cream of high society was converging upon Karsfeld: all of Adelgarde's vassals, the mighty Countess Margarethe von Rosenfeld of Greifenmark along with her court, and also... Countess Eleonora von Drachenberg of Arnsbruck.

Vivienne had pressed Seraphine into extending an invitation to her Sire - not out of political alliance, but because she wanted her mother to witness Seraphine's sheer greatness with her own eyes.

The girl no longer cared for her own house's ambitions; she believed the only person worthy of the imperial crown was Seraphine.

For the gathering crowd of guests, lavish guest residences with spacious parlors and private bathhouses had been constructed, funded by the gold earned from their steel.

Seraphine adjusted her navy-blue velvet tunic with gold embroideries, which tightly hugged her shapely cleavage, swept her golden hair back, and exited the chamber with a predatory smirk.

Today, she was to receive the arriving noblewomen at Rosalie's side. Among the guests were many names from Vivienne's blacklist. No one who had plotted against her life would escape Seraphine's vengeance.