Chapter 38: The Regent of Karsfeld

Seraphine awoke in the arms of her beautiful lover with a throbbing headache.

She had downed a few too many tankards of ale with the militia girls, but after such a resounding victory, the revelry had been well earned.

She rose slowly from the bed, deciding to skip her punishing morning workout for today. A single day of taking it easy would hardly ruin her physique, so long as it didn't become a habit.

A moment later, Vivienne stirred. The drowsy noblewoman immediately twined her smooth thighs around Seraphine's hips, propped herself up on her elbows, and with a soft purr sank her teeth into Seraphine's sensual neck, leaving a distinct, purple hickey upon her pale skin.

In this brazen fashion, she was staking her claim against any would-be rivals - particularly little Rosalie.

Seraphine snorted with laughter at such possessiveness. Amused and thoroughly aroused by the morning sight, she shoved the girl back onto the bedding.

Rolling Vivienne onto her back and pinning her with her weight, she buried her mouth against the girl's delicate, swan-like throat, returning the favor with an equally fierce, burning mark.

After a brisk, intense morning dalliance, the two dressed and parted for their respective chambers.

Now that Vivienne officially oversaw steel shipments for her mother, she could hover around the heir in broad daylight without raising suspicion.

She no longer had to rely on creeping to her door under the shroud of night. She commanded full access to the mother of her unborn child - and she fully intended to rub it painfully in the little betrothed's face.

She knew, of course, not to overplay her hand lest the keep catch wind of the truth, but proud Rosalie would certainly never run tattle to the adults.

Vivienne felt she had the reins firmly in hand.

Seraphine, for her part, hadn't the faintest clue of the covert war the two had ignited behind her back.

Thus, at the morning table, she was left utterly baffled watching the two noblewomen glare daggers at one another across their porridge bowls.

They sat facing each other, trading looks so venomous that even Cordelia took notice. The younger sister merely waved it off, however, convinced it was just petty, trivial tantrums beneath her notice.

The heavy silence was finally broken by Baroness Adelgarde setting down her cutlery:

"I summon the family and the entire council to the Great Hall directly following our meal. I have an announcement of paramount importance to the security and future of our realm."

Everyone froze, shifting their gaze to the head of the house. Adelgarde looked with measured respect upon both future daughters-in-law of the house:

"My ladies, your presence is not mandatory, yet should you wish to hear my words, the doors stand open to you."

Seraphine breathed an inward sigh of relief seeing Rosalie and Vivienne nod in unison, however frostily. She did not yet know what war they were waging, but she was grateful the tension at the table had eased, if only for a fleeting moment.

Cordelia, meanwhile, went pale with apprehension. For her Sire to summon the council with such gravity, it could only mean an elevation for Seraphine.

The younger futa could feel the lingering dregs of the Baroness's favor slipping irrevocably from her grasp.

Once the dishes were cleared, the assembly proceeded to the Great Hall.

Rosalie and Vivienne continued to trade hostile glares, but their attention was swiftly captured by Adelgarde seated upon her carved throne, flanked by her councilors. Even these influential noblewomen did not yet know the contents of the proclamation.

The Baroness cleared her throat and spoke in a voice that resonated across the stone:

"I am Adelgarde Karsfeld, by the decree of fate Baroness of these lands! I hereby solemnly proclaim my firstborn heir, Seraphine, as the official regent of Karsfeld! Should duty summon me beyond the borders of this domain, it is she who, by my will, shall assume full sovereign authority over the keep, the army, and the law!"

A broad, triumphant smile bloomed across Seraphine's face. She had awaited this moment for months - at last, she had proven her worth.

Cordelia nearly swooned in abject horror. This was nothing short of a death warrant. When the war erupted and Seraphine took the reins, she would wield absolute judicial power.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

She would launch an inquest into the assassination plots and have Cordelia beheaded against the nearest convenient wall. The younger sister had a year at most before the Empress of Alaria breathed her last to rid herself of her hated rival.

The problem was, Seraphine had become untouchable. The landed gentry and wealthy merchants reaping fortunes from her manufactories would stand behind her like an iron bastion.

Standing to the side, Rosalie and Vivienne received the news with radiant smiles. The triumph of their shared beloved bolstered the standing of them both.

Yet the moment they realized they were celebrating the exact same thing, their expressions hardened in a split second into another petulant scowl.

A stir rippled through the councilors. The majority were ecstatic - they had witnessed the expansion of the ironworks and the terrifying might of the new militia. Yet roughly a quarter of them, who had hitherto backed Cordelia's faction, turned white as a sheet.

Seraphine's rule heralded the forfeiture of their offices - or a dungeon cell for high treason.

Little Marielle and Isolde cheered in pure joy, while Adelgarde watched her daughter with swelling pride. Seraphine immediately swept the hall with a keen gaze, committing every sour, twisted face to memory.

She understood that before turning her attention to external foes, she had to quietly purge the traitors festering in her own backyard.

Her primary target became Adelgarde’s Marshal of the Host. The grizzled old knight had greeted the regency proclamation with undisguised distaste, casting a knowing glance Cordelia's way.

There was zero doubt that the military commander was in the younger sister's pocket. Leaving her breathing before assuming the regency would be sheer madness.

Following the official proclamations, a ring of congratulatory ladies formed around Seraphine. That was when friction sparked - Vivienne stepped forward to offer her felicitations at the exact same instant as little Rosalie.

The two noblewomen bumped shoulders, hissing at each other with quiet fury over who claimed precedence.

Only in that fraction of a second did epiphany strike Seraphine. She connected the barbed remarks with Vivienne’s midnight whispers about "being a very bad girl." She realized Lady von Drachenberg had brazenly baited her betrothed!

Internally, Seraphine boiled with fury at such reckless insolence. Raising a hand, she silenced the girls in a firm, unyielding tone:

"Rosalie, you are my betrothed. You speak first."

Vivienne twitched, stung to the quick as her right to speak was stripped away. Yet she understood the cold calculation of her mistress and obediently lowered her eyes.

"I congratulate you with all my heart, Seraphine!" Rosalie chimed, shooting Vivienne a smug, superior look before rising on her tiptoes to whisper into the heir's ear: "We must speak in private later."

Seraphine smiled warmly down at the young girl, squeezing her hands:

"Thank you, dearest. Your words mean the most to me."

At the same time, she cast Vivienne a gaze so murderous and frigid it conveyed without words: I know what you did, and you will pay dearly for it tonight.

The noblewoman shivered beneath that glare. She realized she had crossed the line, yet the anticipation of stern punishment in a shadowed bedchamber sent a shudder of illicit arousal coursing through her. Composing herself, she offered a formal, courtly curtsey:

"Lady Seraphine, my congratulations on your title. I have no doubt you will prove a just and formidable regent."

Watching from afar, Cordelia chalked her betrothed's cool tone up to ordinary court etiquette, never suspecting in her wildest dreams what transpired between the two beneath the sheets.

Once the crowd finally dispersed, Seraphine slipped away with Rosalie into a quiet alcove:

"So... will you tell me what happened between the two of you?"

Rosalie attempted to play the innocent, but under the heir's gentle persistence she broke, confessing through welling tears the unvarnished truth of how Vivienne had brazenly threatened to steal her intended away.

Seraphine kept a flawless poker face, dismissing the matter with hearty laughter:

"Is that all? Vivienne is merely taking revenge on Cordelia for her drunken excesses, trying to spite her by feigning interest in me. Even if she desperately wanted to, it is far too late. It is to you I am betrothed, and with you I shall stand before the altar. You have nothing to fret over, little one."

Rosalie looked up at her with hopeful eyes through her tears:

"Truly?..."

Seraphine pressed a kiss to her forehead, stroking the girl's golden pigtails:

"Of course. Do you think I would have thrown such a grand ball had I not desired you as my wife?"

The maiden wiped her tears, pecked Seraphine on the cheek, and scurried off to her chambers in flustered embarrassment.

Seraphine had not lied regarding marriage - Rosalie was the ideal candidate for a lawful wife and mistress of the castle.

She had trained Vivienne into a flawless concubine, spy, and sensual plaything, but the Arnsbruck noblewoman was utterly unsuited for the role of a respectable consort.

In time, she intended to coax Rosalie into accepting Vivienne's presence - a practice far from unusual in this realm - yet for the moment, she had to maintain absolute secrecy.

Before night fell, Seraphine dispatched a missive to her intelligence network. She required the reagents to produce arsenic trioxide - an odorless, white powdered poison undetectable to contemporary physicians.

Adelgarde’s Marshal of the Host had to disappear without a trace before the war erupted.

At last, the bedchamber door creaked open soundlessly. In slipped Vivienne, wearing the contrite expression of a repentant sinner. Without a word, she shed her silks, presenting her lush, perky breasts, narrow waist, and curvaceous hips, before dropping humbly to her knees beside the bed.

Seraphine had no intention of going easy on her.

Binding the brazen schemer with sturdy cords, she ruthlessly drilled her iron discipline into her throughout the intoxicating night, punishing her so harshly and deeply that the noblewoman wept in sheer bliss, begging for mercy.

Seraphine knew that from this day forward she would have to maneuver between two possessive women, yet this romantic triangle was destined to become the very foundation of her grand empire.