Chapter 241: Play House?

But I want two boxes of these every week. And if you try to teach me how to spell ’cat’ or ’dog’, I will shove my sticky hands on your pockets!"

Roan laughed, adjusting his cuffs. "That’s a fair bargain, little lady. Now then, let us discuss the geopolitical ramifications of the Emperor’s upcoming banquet."

The game was afoot, the players were set, and the Archduke was actively fermenting in the hallway.

The Capital was about to get incredibly chaotic.

***

The atmosphere inside the Nacht Capital Estate had settled into a bizarre equilibrium that could only be described as a heavily armed domestic sitcom.

At the epicenter of this madness was Duke Kaelus von Nacht.

The Archduke of the North, the terrifying Reaper who commanded legions of heavily armored killers, was suffering from a chronic, acute case of paternal jealousy.

The primary target of his ire was, undeniably, Professor Roan.

It wasn’t just that the new tutor was a stranger.

It wasn’t just that he possessed the kind of sharp, devastating, CEO like aesthetics that made the maids in the estate blush and drop silverware whenever he walked past.

It was the fact that Seraphina actually, genuinely liked him.

During their daily lessons in the secondary study, Kaelus would frequently make up ridiculous excuses to patrol the hallway.

He would stand outside the frosted glass door, his violet eyes glowing with hostility, listening to the sounds of his daughter laughing at something the glassed academic had said.

’He is using humor to subvert her loyalties,’ Kaelus’s internal monologue would rage, his black-gloved hands clenching into fists. ’He is making her giggle over fractions. I can also make her giggle over fractions! I will simply freeze the chalk up. It will be hilarious. I must assert my dominance as the primary source of entertainment!’

But Seraphina, operating with the manipulative brilliance of a mastermind trapped in a six-year-old’s body, knew exactly how to manage the grumpy hedgehog.

The moment the lesson concluded and the study doors opened, Seraphina would execute a flawless assault of pure affection.

She didn’t just hug Kaelus.

She used her cuteness to completely short-circuit his jealousy engine.

"PAPA!" Seraphina would shriek, launching herself at his armored legs the second she saw him lurking in the corridor.

Kaelus would instantly drop to one knee to catch her, fully preparing to interrogate her about the tutor’s curriculum.

But before he could even open his mouth, Seraphina would grab his pale cheeks with her tiny hands and unleash a rapid-fire barrage of kisses across his entire face.

Forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, she covered him in sloppy, enthusiastic chilidiah kisses, snuggling her face into his velvet collar and rubbing her cheek against his chest like a clingy koala.

"I missed you so much while I was doing math!" Seraphina would cooo, projecting her adoration. "Math is so boring compared to you! You are the best, coolest, most handsome Papa in the whole universe! Professor Roan is just a dusty book-reader, but you have a cool sword!"

The effect was instantaneous and absolute.

The homicidal aura radiating from the Archduke would evaporate into thin air.

The freezing frost on the floorboards would melt. Kaelus’s violet eyes would soften into a puddle of warm, fiercely devoted mush.

He would wrap his arms around her, burying his face in her dark hair, a completely ridiculous, utterly conquered smile spreading across his lips.

’She recognizes my superior martial aesthetics,’ Kaelus would think, his ego soaring back into the stratosphere. ’The academic is nothing to her. I am clearly the favorite one!’

He would broodingly, grudgingly allow her to continue getting along with Roan, pacified by the fact that he was the undisputed king of her heart.

***

While Kaelus was easily managed with snuggles, Alistair, the Chief Administrative Aide, was an entirely different puzzle.

Ever since the catastrophic tutoring session where Seraphina had completely dismantled his geopolitical economic theories, Alistair had adopted a policy of avoidance.

He treated the six-year-old Sovereign not as a child, but as an active, unstable magical explosive.

When he needed to deliver ledgers to the Archduke’s desk while Seraphina was in the room, Alistair would literally use a long, wooden pointing-stick to push the documents across the mahogany surface, standing a safe ten feet away to avoid her.

But Alistair was a man bound by aristocratic duty, and he could not let the matter of her socialization rest.

"Your Grace," Alistair announced one morning, standing as close to the door of the study as much as possible, keeping one eye fixed on Seraphina, who was currently eating a blueberry muffin on her pile of cushions.

"I must reiterate the necessity of a social debut. The Lady Seraphina has been in the Capital for weeks. Yet, she has not attended a single tea party. She has not exchanged pleasantries with the daughters of the Marquisate. The high-society matrons are whispering that the North is hoarding her away."

Seraphina didn’t look up from her muffin.

She simply rolled her dark eyes.

"I do not care what the matrons whisper," Kaelus replied coldly, signing a document. "Let them whisper until their throats dry out."

"But Your Grace!" Alistair pleaded, his pristine scholar’s robes rustling as he wrung his hands. "It is a matter of intelligence gathering! The tea parties are where the noble children parrot the secrets of their parents! It is a necessary evil! She must go and play house with them to secure the Duchy’s standing!"

Seraphina swallowed a bite of her muffin, suppressing a mocking snort.

’Play house? To gather intelligence?’ Seraphina’s inner mastermind scoffed. ’Oh, Alistair, you beautiful, tragic amateur. Why on earth would I sit in a stuffy drawing room, drinking watered-down tea, listening to a bunch of six-year-olds brag about their ponies, when I literally have the entire Capital under total, microscopic surveillance?’

Seraphina’s Duck Service Squad (D.S.S.) was operating at peak, with unprecedented efficiency.

The ghost-inhabited origami ducks had infiltrated every major estate in the Capital.