Chapter 197: Treason

"Enter," Kaelus rumbled, his voice vibrating deeply against Seraphina’s back.

The heavy oak doors swung open.

Escorted by Sir Lucas, three high-ranking vassals of the Southern territories stepped into the room.

They were wealthy, arrogant-looking men, dripping in gold chains and expensive silks, their faces set in expressions of polite, nervous deference.

They had come to grovel, to attempt to renegotiate their trade agreements with the fearsome Northern warlord.

The vassals stopped in front of the desk, preparing to bow and offer their meticulously rehearsed, honey-tongued speeches.

They looked at the Archduke.

They saw the terrifying, glowing violet eyes.

And then, they saw the tiny, dark-haired child sitting casually in the center of the Reaper’s lap, swinging her legs, currently attempting to stack three highly classified, magically sealed ledgers into a makeshift pyramid.

The vassals blinked.

Their meticulously rehearsed speeches instantly evaporated, replaced by a wave of condescending amusement.

’Look at that,’ the lead vassal, a plump Count with a powdered wig, thought, exchanging a knowing, incredibly smug glance with his peers.

’The great, terrifying Archduke is completely incapacitated by a toddler. The rumors are true. The wolf has been declawed. He is letting a six-year-old play with Imperial documents. The child is just playing lord, imitating her father. This meeting will be far easier than we anticipated.’

The vassals bowed, their smiles widening into expressions of cloying, fake adoration.

"Your Grace," the plump Count began, his voice dripping with oil. "It is an honor to stand before you. And what a delight to see the little Sovereign! She is a vision of innocence! Playing at governance, I see! How precious!"

Seraphina paused her stacking.

She looked up at the plump Count.

She looked at his smug, condescending smile.

She saw the lack of respect in his eyes.

He thought she was stupid.

He thought she was a prop.

’Oh, you poor, doomed, powdered idiot,’ Seraphina thought, a predatory thrill rushing through her veins.

’You think I’m playing blocks with these ledgers? I just memorized the exact percentage of your offshore embezzlement accounts over the last four fiscal quarters. I know you paid for that ugly wig with stolen road-tax money.’

Seraphina didn’t scowl.

She didn’t throw a tantrum.

She leaned back against Kaelus’s chest, widened her dark eyes, and offered the Count a brilliantly sunny smile.

"Hi, Mr. Count!" Seraphina chirped loudly, playing the role of the oblivious toddler to perfection. "You have a very shiny necklace! Did you buy it with the money from the broken bridge on the East Road? The bridge looks very sad!"

The plump Count froze as his smile instantly shattered.

All the color drained from his face, leaving his powdered wig looking out of place above his gray, terrified skin.

The broken bridge on the East Road was a highly guarded, deeply buried secret.

He had pocketed the infrastructure funds provided by the Emperor, claiming the bridge had been repaired.

The Archduke’s official inspectors hadn’t even reached that territory yet. There was absolutely no simple way the child could know about that.

Unless...

The Count slowly, agonizingly shifted his terrified gaze from the smiling child up to the glowing, violet eyes of Duke Kaelus von Nacht.

Kaelus had not known about the bridge.

His official reports had shown nothing.

But he possessed the intellect of a warlord, and he trusted his daughter implicitly.

The Archduke’s dark aura instantly flared, the temperature in the room plummeting to zero.

The velvet curtains frosted over.

"A broken bridge, Count?" Kaelus whispered, his voice a silky caress that promised unmitigated slaughter.

"How fascinating. As it appears, my daughter possesses a miraculous intuition for... many things. I believe a audit of your treasury is in order, too. Sir Lucas. Detain these men until their ledgers can be verified."

"With pleasure, Your Grace," Sir Lucas grinned, stepping forward and drawing his broadsword with a terrifying, ringing SHING.

The vassals were roughly escorted out of the room, weeping and begging for mercy, their political ambitions entirely, completely destroyed by a single, cheerful observation from a six-year-old.

As the doors closed, Kaelus looked down at the top of Seraphina’s head.

"A lucky guess, little Mushroom?" Kaelus murmured fondly, gently patting her hair.

"Just a feeling, Papa," Seraphina lied flawlessly, leaning into his touch, her inner mastermind cackling with a victorious glee.

***

The beauty of Seraphina’s operation was not merely in the gathering of intelligence; it was in the psychological warfare she waged with it.

She didn’t just want to execute the spies within the estate.

Executions were messy, loud, and invited replacements. She preferred a much more sophisticated, and more entertaining approach: she let them know they were burned.

Take Lady Genevieve, the Head Maid, for an example.

Ever since the terrifying, pitch-black encounter with the glowing-eyed origami ducks, Genevieve had been a broken woman.

She hadn’t slept in days.

She walked around the Capital Estate jumping at every single shadow. If a piece of paper rustled in the wind, the spy practically threw herself to the floor, screaming for mercy.

She was completely paralyzed by paranoia.

Seraphina made sure to stoke the flames.

Whenever Seraphina saw Genevieve in the hallways, she didn’t scold her. She simply smiled sweetly, pointed a tiny finger at the Head Maid, and made a soft, clicking quack sound.

The result was instantaneous.

Genevieve would turn pale green, burst into tears, and run in the opposite direction.

The spy’s reports to the Empress had devolved from confident intelligence into frantic, hysterical, incoherent ramblings about haunted stationery and demonic toddlers.

The Empress was beginning to doubt Genevieve’s sanity, effectively neutralizing the threat without Kaelus ever having to draw his sword.

As for the other, lesser spies, the stable boy, the junior cook, Seraphina handled them with terrifying precision.

She didn’t confront them.

She utilized her Duck Service Squad to subtly, meticulously alter their environment.

If the junior cook was planning to send a message about the Vanguard’s patrol routes, a paper badger would sneak into his quarters and rearrange his encrypted letters to spell out the word "WE KNOW".

If the stable boy tried to meet his contact, he would find a glowing, silver-threaded duck sitting perfectly on the saddle of his horse, staring at him.

The psychological pressure was crushing.

Seraphina was intentionally creating a double trap.

She let the spies know they were compromised, but she didn’t fire them. This forced the spies into a state of panic.

And as every seasoned predator knew, when prey panicked, they were bound to made mistakes. They rushed their messages, met with their handlers in broad daylight, and exposed the higher tiers of the conspiracy.

Seraphina sat on Kaelus’s lap, swinging her legs, resting her head against his chestplate as he returned to his reading.

She closed her eyes, tapping back into the ethereal network.

’Butt-tolomeow,’ Seraphina transmitted, a smile playing on her lips. ’How is the junior cook holding up?’

’He is currently weeping in the pantry, My Sovereign,’ the ghost butler reported with satisfaction. ’He attempted to write another treasonous missive, and Squad Bravo manifested a paper frog that pretended to eat his quill. I believe he is writing his resignation letter as we speak.’

’Excellent,’ Seraphina purred.

’Let him sweat for another day. And have a duck deliver a fresh cream puff to Sir Lucas’s quarters. He did a very good job drawing his sword earlier.’

’It shall be done, Queen of the Shadows.’

The connection faded.

Seraphina let out a long, content, incredibly adorable little yawn.

The volume of tactical multitasking was finally catching up to her.

The warmth of Kaelus’s chest, the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart, and the absolute safety of his arms were an irresistible combination.

Her eyelids drooped.

The mastermind slowly powered down, and the six-year-old child returned.

Kaelus felt the tension leave her small body. He looked down, watching her breathing even out into the soft, rhythmic cadence of sleep.

The Archduke of the North carefully, meticulously set his classified documents down on the desk.

He didn’t want the rustling paper to wake her. He shifted his posture, cradling her more securely against his chest, wrapping his heavy dark cape around her shoulders like a blanket.

Kaelus looked around his imposing, dark study.

He looked at the mountain of half-eaten pastries in the corner. He looked at the absurd army of origami ducks surrounding the plush cushions.

He didn’t see the ghosts.