Chapter 31: Break Time

"Halt the convoy," Kaelus commanded.

The massive ironwood carriage rolled to a gentle, perfectly smooth stop.

Seraphina dropped her Imperial boat immediately.

Her dark eyes lit up like fireworks. "Break time! Are we going outside? Can I see the big horsey?"

"You may stretch your legs," Kaelus said, standing up.

He reached out, lifted her by the waist with one hand, and pushed the carriage door open with the other.

The moment the door swung wide, the absurdity of the Black Bastion’s new normal was on full display.

The clearing was already swarming with activity, but it wasn’t the usual grim, silent encampment of soldiers preparing for an ambush.

It looked more like a heavily armored picnic.

Sir Lucas was barking orders, not about perimeter defenses, but about ground conditions.

"Sweep those pinecones away!" the scarred veteran roared at two junior knights, gesturing wildly with his massive gauntlets. "Do you want her to trip? Smooth the dirt! And lay down the velvet tarp! Not the red one, but the blue ones! The blue one matches her dress, you absolute failures!"

The junior knights scrambled, furiously kicking pinecones into the brush and unrolling a massive, plush velvet blanket over the softest patch of grass near the stream.

As Kaelus stepped down from the carriage and set Seraphina on the ground, the entire vanguard seemed to hold its breath.

Seraphina smoothed her skirt, looked around at the towering, terrifying men covered in steel and dried blood, and offered a bright, missing-tooth smile.

"Hi, everyone!" she chirped.

The collective, internal squeal of fifty hardened killers was almost palpable.

The frozen, suffocating atmosphere that usually accompanied the Archduke’s travels shattered instantly, replaced by the warm, chaotic energy of a dozen doting uncles trying to win the favor of a tiny queen.

"Lady Seraphina!" Sir Gallahan was the first to approach, practically jogging over.

He dropped to one knee, ignoring the mud that stained his pristine white greaves, and produced a small, beautifully carved wooden box from his pouch.

"I traded some rations with a merchant we passed at dawn," Gallahan said, his eyes crinkling with a warm smile.

He opened the box to reveal an assortment of crystallized honey drops and candied violets. "For your afternoon energy, My Lady."

Seraphina gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks. "Wow! It’s Sugar flowers! Thank you, Sir Gally...!"

Sir Gally...

Behind Gallahan, several knights had to cover their mouths to stifle their laughter.

Gallahan’s face flushed a deep crimson, but his smile only grew wider.

He puffed out his chest, silently gloating at his peers.

He now had a nickname given by the little lady.

He was winning.

"Move aside, Gallahan, you’re blocking the sun," a deep, gravelly voice rumbled.

Sir Boris, a knight who stood nearly seven feet tall and wielded a war hammer the size of a small anvil, stepped forward.

He looked like a mountain troll shoved into a suit of armor.

He had a thick, braided beard and scars crossing over the socket of his missing left eye.

He was a man who inspired nightmares in enemy infantry.

Boris knelt, the joints of his armor groaning in protest.

With hands that could effortlessly crush a human skull, he delicately held out a slightly lopsided, massive crown made of woven daisies and wild lavender.

"Found these by the water," Boris grunted, his one good eye looking at the ground in embarrassment. "Thought... thought the Mushroom might need a hat. To keep the sun off."

Seraphina’s eyes went wide.

She stepped forward, fearlessly closing the distance with the human mountain, and took the massive flower crown.

She plopped it onto her head.

It was far too big, slipping down to rest somewhat comically on her ears, making her look like a tiny, floral gnome.

"It’s perfect," Seraphina declared, adjusting the flowers. "Thank you, Sir Boris. You are the best flower-picker in the whole army!"

Boris’s face turned the color of a ripe tomato.

He stood up, towering over the other knights, and shot them a deadly, triumphant glare that clearly said: ’If any of you mock my daisy chain, I will smash your ribs into powder.’

None of them dared breathe a word.

They were too busy wishing they had thought of picking flowers.

Kaelus stood by the carriage door, leaning casually against the mythril frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

He watched the scene unfold with a mask of cool indifference, but internally, his mind was analyzing the psychological shift in his men.

The Black Bastion was a machine built for slaughter.

They were men who had seen the worst of humanity and the darkest horrors of the demonic realm.

They suffered from nightmares.

They suffered from the heavy, crushing weight of their own sins.

They were loyal, yes, but brittle, held together only by military discipline and by their fear and respect for their Archduke.

But looking at them now... they were smiling.

Real, genuine smiles.

The heavy bags of tired, sleepless nights under Gallahan’s eyes seemed lighter.

The tense, paranoid posture that Lucas usually maintained was now relaxed.

They were competing to bring a child shiny rocks, weirdly shaped leaves, and safe, edible berries.

She wasn’t just bait anymore.

She was an anchor.

She was a tiny, fragile piece of innocence that reminded these blood-soaked men that there was still something in the world worth being gentle for.

Kaelus felt a strange tightening in his chest.

He looked at the girl in the oversized flower crown, currently demanding that Sir Lucas tell her a story.

He realized, with certainty, that if an enemy army were to crest the hill right now and threaten this clearing, his knights wouldn’t just fight out of duty.

They would fight with the rabid, unstoppable fury of cornered wolves protecting their cub.

She had conquered the deadliest army on the continent in less than a month, armed with nothing but a missing tooth and a demand for sweets.

"Papa Duke!" Seraphina called out, waving her hand towards Kaelus happily.