Chapter 27: Unique Perception

"Lucas and Gallahan," Kaelus said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register that seemed to chill the very air in the room.

The two commanders stepped forward, dropping to one knee at the base of the dais, their heads bowed in absolute reverence.

"What you witnessed today," Kaelus began, his violet eyes sweeping over his loyal knights, "was a tactical deduction based on the enemy’s psychological weaknesses, nothing more than that."

The knights remained frozen.

They were the elite of the elite.

They were trained to observe, analyze, and survive.

Every single one of them had seen the child look at thin air.

Every single one of them had heard her relay information from a steward who was, quite literally, not there.

"The Lady Seraphina possesses a... unique perception of her surroundings," Kaelus continued, the lie smooth and impenetrable as a fortress wall. "She is observant. However, the Imperial Court is a den of superstitious fools and zealots. The Church of the Holy Light burns those they do not understand, and they covet what they cannot control."

He paused, letting the silence stretch until it became a weight pressing down on the shoulders of his men.

When he spoke next, his voice was laced with the unfiltered killing intent of the Archduke.

"If a single whisper of her... intuition reaches beyond the ranks of this vanguard. If I hear a rumor in a tavern, a murmur in a barrack, or a confession whispered to someone in the dark... I will not merely execute the man who spoke. I will burn his lineage from the annals of history, salt the earth of his ancestral home, and scatter his ashes into the Abyss."

He leaned forward slightly, his arm tightening imperceptibly around Seraphina’s waist.

"Do we have an understanding?"

"By the blood of the Bastion, we swear it!"

The knights roared the oath in perfect unison, slamming their fists against their breastplates.

It wasn’t just a military acknowledgment; it was a religious vow.

Internally, however, the knights were experiencing a very different kind of fervor.

Sir Gallahan, his face pressed toward the floor, was mentally rewriting his entire life’s purpose.

’She is a tiny, adorable oracle of death. She speaks to the unseen and demands strawberries. We must build a fortress of plush pillows around her! If anyone tries to hurt the spooky baby, I will personally feed them their own boots!’

Satisfied with their absolute submission, Kaelus finally shifted his attention back to the weeping puddle of silk that was Count Rodhe.

"Take him," Kaelus ordered, his tone shifting from protective father back to the Reaper. "Strip him of his titles, his signet, and his finery. Throw him in his own dungeons. The Imperial Auditors will come to collect him in a week. If he survives the damp, he can face the Emperor’s justice."

As two knights stepped forward to drag the blubbering Count away by his armpits, Seraphina suddenly shifted on Kaelus’s lap.

Throughout the terrifying display of authority, she had remained perfectly calm.

Why wouldn’t she be?

She was sitting in the safest seat on the continent.

But her dark eyes were not focused on the knights, nor were they focused on the ledgers.

She was looking at the ghost of Howard the steward.

Howard had not vanished when the ledgers were revealed.

He was floating near the grand fireplace, his spectral form flickering like a dying candle.

He looked vindicated, yes, but the heavy, oppressive sorrow that bound him to the mortal plane had not dissipated.

He kept pointing toward the window, out toward the town, his translucent face twisted in an expression of profound, lingering grief.

’He’s not leaving,’ Seraphina thought, her small brow furrowing. ’He got his revenge. Why is he still here?’

Then, she remembered the whispers she had heard in the dark the night before.

’...my baby... It’s so cold in the cellar...’

The Count hadn’t just stolen money from the Emperor.

He had squeezed the lifeblood out of his own people.

He had taxed them into starvation, seized their properties, and murdered those who spoke out.

Howard hadn’t just been betrayed; he had likely been trying to protect his own family, or the townspeople, when his throat was slit.

Revenge was a dish best served cold, but it didn’t put bread on the table for the widows left behind.

Seraphina let out a long, heavy sigh that sounded far too old for a six-year-old’s body.

She really, really didn’t want to play the Saintess.

She didn’t want to get involved.

She was a shrimp.

Shrimps were supposed to hide in the coral, not try to clean the ocean.

But as she looked at Howard, and then remembered the freezing, starving children in her own orphanage, the ones who hadn’t been lucky enough to be adopted by a terrifying warlord, a familiar, sharp ache bloomed in her chest.

She knew what it felt like to be completely powerless.

She knew what it felt like to watch adults gamble away the funds meant for a winter coat.

She knew what it felt like to be left behind, hungry and forgotten in the dark.

"Papa Duke?" she piped up, her voice cutting through the heavy tension of the room once more.

Kaelus looked down at her. "What is it, Seraphina? Are you hungry again?"

"No," she said, shaking her head.

She pointed a tiny finger at the massive stack of ledgers Sir Lucas was holding. "You took all the bad man’s books. Does that mean you get to take all his shiny coins too?"

Kaelus raised an eyebrow. "As the acting representative of the Crown’s justice, yes. The assets of a traitor are confiscated by the State. A portion goes to the Imperial Treasury, and a portion is absorbed by the Bastion Knights to cover the costs of the audit."

"Can we not give it to the Emperor?" Seraphina asked innocently, completely unaware, or perhaps not caring that she was suggesting high treason.

Sir Lucas choked on the air.