Chapter 37: The Baroness Makes Her Choice

Once Eleonora departed Karsfeld, Seraphine gathered the family and laid out the terms of the accord struck with the Countess.

Everyone was immensely impressed, none more so than Baroness Adelgarde. In her eyes, her firstborn had finally proven she had matured into the role of official regent.

Dark clouds were gathering over the Kingdom of Alaria, and Adelgarde felt it in her bones that any moment now the empire would drown in civil war.

When summoned to arms, she would have to leave the barony in capable, steady hands. Initially, she had considered a trusted councilor, yet over recent months Seraphine had blossomed into an extraordinary leader.

The Baroness made her decision: come the morrow, she would formally proclaim Seraphine regent of Karsfeld in the event of her absence.

Before that came to pass, however, Adelgarde gave Cordelia living hell for her drunken indiscretion with Vivienne, which had nearly cost the house its mines.

Cordelia had once been her favorite, yet now the tables had turned completely. The younger sister had become the family disappointment, while Seraphine shone at every turn.

At the very same time, Seraphine and Major Katarina Falk were conducting drills out on the meadows.

The militiamen were clad in brand-new uniforms tailored in the recently opened riverside manufactory.

Seraphine had outfitted her girls in garments inspired by her past world. Flamboyant, puffed doublets in the livery of House Karsfeld - black, gold, and white - looked magnificent.

The non-commissioned and commissioned officers wore blackened steel half-harnesses engraved with brass inlays, paired with matching burgonet helms.

Seraphine herself looked breathtaking and commanding. She wore a tailored black waffenrock trimmed with gold braid, hugging her firm, high bosom and narrow waist tightly before descending over her thighs, framing her shapely hips.

In place of a cumbersome pot helm, she donned a light, blackened steel skullcap crowned by a hat adorned with vibrant plumes, while a gleaming gorget studded with brass rivets protected her throat and cleavage.

In the hands of eight hundred peasant women gleamed the barrels of Model 1417 muskets with fixed socket bayonets. Divided into six companies, the entire battalion was currently drilling in line fire.

After much persuasion, Adelgarde had finally consented to forging armor for the peasant militia. Hitherto, the Baroness had favored traditional chainmail and brigandines for her professional knights, failing to grasp that the modern steel from Seraphine's furnaces allowed for harnesses far lighter yet vastly more resilient to blows.

As Seraphine barked orders, her resonant, velvety voice carrying across the field, Vivienne observed her from a nearby knoll.

Lady von Drachenberg devoured her mistress with her eyes. Ever since hearing tales of the slaughter at Eisenwald in bed, she had fallen head over heels in love with the strength and intellect of Adelgarde's firstborn.

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She was so captivated by Seraphine's statuesque figure that she failed to notice Rosalie's approach.

The young betrothed immediately caught that passionate, smitten gaze. Vivienne treated Cordelia like dirt, yet stared at Seraphine like an infatuated schoolgirl.

Rosalie felt a sharp prick of jealousy and stepped closer:

"Magnificent, isn't she? Miles better than that scoundrel you're betrothed to."

Vivienne, still fixated on Seraphine's bosom heaving beneath the tunic, answered without thinking:

"Oh yes, she is incredible!"

Only a second later did she realize whom she was speaking with. She went pale with horror - she had just confessed before the official betrothed that she favored the elder sister!

Rosalie furrowed her brow, her youthful face hardening into a sullen scowl:

"You may swoon from afar like the other girls. But keep your distance from her. Seraphine is my future wife, and I won't let some shameless hussy steal her from me!"

The attempt at intimidation, however, had quite the opposite effect. Vivienne smiled predatorily. Taking a step toward the maiden with her chin tilted high, she whispered straight into her ear:

"We shall see about that, little girl."

With that, she spun on her heel and strutted away, swaying her rounded hips alluringly and leaving a fuming Rosalie with a fierce pout on her lips.

Vivienne knew that Seraphine's child was growing inside her belly. She was certain that once her mistress forged her own empire, it would be her offspring who claimed the throne, not the brood of that little brat.

And the thought of Seraphine punishing her for this insolence with a firm hand in the bedchamber set a molten heat blooming in her lower belly.

Rosalie boiled with rage. She swore to herself that she would never surrender her intended to this sensual schemer.

She had no inkling that the war for Seraphine's heart and bed had been declared right under her nose - nor that her beloved had long been riding her rival into oblivion behind locked doors.

That evening, following the conclusion of maneuvers, Seraphine hosted a grand feast on the market square for her soldiers.

Tables groaned beneath the weight of roasts and sausages, while young girls continually topped off clay tankards with cold ale. It was the promised reward for the blood shed at Eisenwald.

Seraphine tossed aside her helm, shook out her mane of golden hair, and tapped a spoon against a vessel, quieting the square:

"I promised you a feast following the rout of the traitors at the mines! Courtly duties held me away for a moment, but this night belongs to you - to the brave women of Karsfeld who took up arms and saved my blood! To your health!"

The square erupted in a deafening cheer.

The professional knights and castle guardsmen loyal to Cordelia watched on in dread. This peasant levy, previously dismissed as a joke, had wiped out an enemy to the last woman without suffering a single loss, and was blindly devoted to the heir.

The feast dragged on deep into the night. Only past two in the morning did Seraphine return to her bedchamber, pleasantly tipsy and warmed by the hops.

Turning the key in the lock, she found Vivienne waiting upon the bed. Lady von Drachenberg lay completely naked atop the silk sheets.

Her massive, firm breasts heaved enticingly, their darker nipples taut from the cool draft. Parted, smooth thighs laid bare her glistening feminine charms.

Seraphine stepped closer, her hardening futa cock surging against her garments at once. Vivienne looked up, whispering with a shameless smirk:

"My lady... I was a very bad girl today, and I must be punished."

The tipsy Seraphine had no idea what her favorite was on about, but the sight of such a flawless body robbed her of the last shreds of sober thought.

She stepped over to the bed where Vivienne lay and ruthlessly set to work administering her exquisite punishment, completely oblivious to the tempest Vivienne and Rosalie had brewed behind her back.