Chapter 36: Negotiating With a Countess

A few days had passed, and nearly all the noblewomen attending Seraphine's betrothal had departed Karsfeld.

Only the formidable Countess Eleonora von Drachenberg of Arnsbruck remained, locked in a fierce dispute within the Great Hall with Baroness Adelgarde over Vivienne's alleged defilement by a drunken Cordelia.

In accordance with strict custom, maidens were not to surrender themselves to their intended before the wedding night.

Yet Vivienne had played her hand masterfully - weeping, she feigned the role of a defenseless victim forced into submission by an ale-addled Cordelia.

Although the younger futa had never so much as touched the noblewoman, the truth was known only to Seraphine and her breathtaking favorite.

It was an exquisite opportunity to drive a wedge between Cordelia and her most powerful patroness. Both families were convinced that Vivienne's maidenhead was gone, and the maiden would soon proclaim her pregnancy.

Seraphine sat comfortably at the table, relishing a crispy schnitzel and washing it down with a tankard of cold ale.

Her snug tunic hugged her shapely, firm bosom, and she watched with sheer satisfaction as her treacherous little sister cowered beneath a storm of vitriol.

Cordelia stood with bowed head, suffering from a murderous hangover and a complete blackout. She bit her tongue in frustration, for if she truly had plucked Lady von Drachenberg's flower, the bitterest part was that she remembered not a single inch of that stunning, naked body!

Come morning, she had found Vivienne wrapped tightly in a blood-stained sheet, tearfully banishing her from the bedchamber.

Vivienne stood behind her Sire, Eleonora, wearing a picture of perfect anguish. She was an exquisite actress.

The Countess of Arnsbruck boiled with rage, leveling an accusatory finger at Adelgarde:

"This is an outrage! I will not let this stand! I demand reparations for my daughter's innocence, despoiled by your insolent whelp! Betrothal gives her no right to take Vivienne by force under the table!"

Adelgarde was sweating with shame.

Though she knew sparks flew between the girls, she had never imagined her younger daughter would prove such a mindless, uncouth brute after a few tankards of ale.

"I swear we shall make amends, Eleonora... Tell me, what do you demand?"

The truth of the matter was that Eleonora was inwardly rubbing her hands in glee. Cordelia's transgressions finally offered her the pretext to seize Karsfeld's wealth:

"I demand twenty-five percent of all iron deposits in Karsfeld as compensation!"

Adelgarde surged from her seat, slamming her fist against the table:

"Have you gone mad?! You seek to ruin me in broad daylight!"

"Ruin?" the Countess scoffed. "You are merely a modest baroness, Adelgarde! The maidenhead of the daughter of the Countess of Tyravia carries immense political weight! Were it not for your mines, I would have wed Vivienne to the Duchess's daughter!"

At that moment, Seraphine set down her fork, dabbed her lips with a napkin, and rose. Her sensual yet tall, statuesque silhouette commanded every eye in the hall.

She stepped toward the center of the chamber with a slow, deliberate stride. As administrator of the industrial district, she had no intention of ceding a single ounce of ore.

"Forgive me, Countess Eleonora, but your demand is absurd," Seraphine remarked coldly. "Out of respect for hospitality, I can offer a shipment of refined steel at a discounted rate. But I will not surrender a single adit over the foolishness of my younger sister."

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Eleonora glared at her in fury:

"And just who are you, little girl, to interrupt the conversation of two sovereigns? Go back to eating your porridge!"

Seraphine offered a mocking smile, her sapphire eyes gleaming:

"The Baroness has granted me complete authority over the mines and ironworks. If you wish to speak of metal, you speak with me."

Eleonora narrowed her eyes. Over the past few days, she had observed how deftly Seraphine wrapped the other ladies around her finger. This girl was as hard as forged steel, entirely uncowed by the title of Countess.

The Countess stepped closer, pinning the heir with an icy stare:

"I demand twenty-five percent. I will not depart without an agreement."

Seraphine laughed in her face. Knowing she held six hundred muskets and an artillery battery at her back, feudal posturing made not the slightest impression on her.

"Then make yourself comfortable, for you shall spend the rest of your days here. Do you have any inkling of what a quarter of our deposits is worth once smelted into modern steel?"

"You jest!" hissed the Countess. "Smelting such an amount would take you an entire century!"

Seraphine deliberately kept silent on the existence of furnaces that poured steel in torrents. Instead, she laid out an offer:

"Here is what I can do: by way of apology for Cordelia's insolence, I will discount the price of steel for you by fifteen percent over the next ten years. Not a penny more, lest I run the venture at a loss."

"A loss?!" The vein on Eleonora's forehead bulged with rage. "Your sister stole my daughter's virtue, and you fret over your ledgers?!"

Eleonora leaned toward Seraphine's ear, hissing so quietly that no one else could hear:

"Do you think this wretched barony can endure if I bring the banners of all Tyravia down upon it?"

Seraphine didn't so much as blink. Instead of fear, a predatory, vindictive smirk curved her lips.

Leaning in close to the elder noblewoman's ear, she whispered:

"Countess... do you truly wish to squander your knights in a bloody massacre before Karsfeld, when your banners will soon be desperately needed outside Veynhardt?"

Eleonora froze. Blood drained from her face. How could this girl possibly know of her designs to betray the Duchy of Ardenia and march upon the capital?!

Or did she speak of the grand civil war looming over the Kingdom of Alaria? In either case, Seraphine was entirely correct - the Countess could not afford to bleed her army in a pointless war against a barony.

Her bluff had gone up in smoke.

Gritting her teeth in helpless fury, Eleonora whispered:

"A twenty percent discount, and we have an accord."

"Seventeen percent, and I cover the transport costs to Arnsbruck. That is my final word," Seraphine cut in smoothly.

The Countess swallowed the bitter pill. She had secured steady deliveries of refined steel, far superior to raw ore from the late Ulrike.

She had no inkling of how masterfully she had been played - had she known it was Seraphine who had long been shamelessly riding her daughter, and that Vivienne carried the elder sister's bastard, she would have unsheathed her steel on the spot.

"Agreed," Eleonora spat through gritted teeth, before turning to her daughter: "Gather your things, Vivienne. You are returning home with me."

Seraphine stiffened at the thought of losing her beloved slave. Yet before she could object, Vivienne stepped forward, head held high:

"I am not returning!"

The Countess stopped dead in her tracks:

"What did you say?!"

Vivienne no longer feared her mother - feeling the might of her true mistress at her back, she cleverly offered an excuse:

"Someone must personally oversee the fulfillment of this accord and safeguard our interests at the ironworks. I will remain in Karsfeld as your representative."

Eleonora furrowed her brow. The reasoning was sound - she didn't trust Seraphine one bit, and the sharp-witted Vivienne made for an ideal spy on site:

"So be it. You remain. I shall see you at your wedding to Cordelia."

When the Countess's retinue finally cleared the castle gates, a long-awaited calm settled over Karsfeld.

Every guest had departed, and Seraphine could finally return to her affairs.

Come evening, the heir shed her restrictive garments, allowing her full, rounded breasts to breathe in the cool air of the bedchamber.

In the gloom of the room, Vivienne was already waiting. The sensual noblewoman had cast off all her attire, kneeling before Seraphine upon the flagstones and arching her flawless feminine frame, perky nipples, and rounded hips before her.

Wrapping her arms around her mistress's bare thighs, Vivienne lifted her gaze with a shameless smile:

"I stayed with you, my lady... I belong only to you."

Seraphine smiled predatorily. Her hardening futa cock immediately sprang free from her trousers, throbbing with heat.

Grabbing the girl by her strawberry-blonde braids, she pulled her upward and rewarded her clever favorite for the successful performance, spending the night in wild, passionate revelry until the break of dawn.