Chapter 162: Together

Then came a handful of candied nuts, and a small, corked flask of chilled milk.

She had hoarded an entire picnic’s worth of high-calorie contraband throughout the day, smuggling it into her room while the knights were distracted by their own panic.

She turned back to Kaelus, holding the squished egg sandwich out to him.

"I knew you weren’t eating either," Seraphina said softly, her dark eyes looking at him with pure, unconditional love. "Because you were too busy following me around looking like a sad wet dog. So I saved you a sandwich. We can share."

Kaelus von Nacht looked at the squished sandwich, then he looked at the tiny girl who had spent the entire day punishing him, yet had meticulously planned to ensure he didn’t starve during his punishment.

The overwhelming perfection of his daughter struck him anew.

Kaelus didn’t sit in a chair.

The Archduke of the North climbed up onto the bed, kic​king his polished boots off, and sat cross-legged on the silk duvet directly across from her.

He took the squished sandwich. He didn’t inspect it for poison.

He didn’t complain about the lack of silverware.

He took a massive bite, chewing the cold egg and bread as if it were the finest delicacy in the Emperor’s palace.

"It is exquisite," Kaelus mumbled around the food, offering her a genuine, brilliant smile that reached all the way to his glowing violet eyes.

Seraphina giggled, grabbing a fruit tart and shoving half of it into her mouth, her cheeks puffing out into the familiar, adorable hamster-bulge.

They sat there in the middle of the bed, the terrifying Reaper and the tiny Sovereign, chewing their hoarded contraband in comfortable, entirely healed silence, the cold war officially, beautifully concluded.

***

Outside the heavy oak doors of the guest suite, the hallway was not empty.

It was, in fact, incredibly crowded.

Pressed directly against the thick wood of the door, stacked practically on top of each other in a highly undignified, gravity-defying pyramid of eavesdropping espionage, were the three commanders of the Vanguard.

Sir Boris was at the bottom, his massive ear pressed to the keyhole, tears streaming steadily down his scarred face, soaking into his beard.

"He’s eating the sandwich," Boris sobbed silently, his massive shoulders shaking. "She saved him a sandwich. The emotional intelligence... it’s staggering. My heart cannot bear the purity!"

Sir Gallahan, kneeling on Boris’s back, was biting a pristine lace handkerchief to muffle his own hysterical squeals of joy. "The ice has thawed! The family unit is restored! I must compose a ballad! The Ballad of the Squished Egg!"

Sir Lucas, standing behind them, had his arms crossed, his scarred face twisted into a fierce scowl, though his eyes were suspiciously bright and wet. "Maintain discipline, you crying fools. If His Grace catches us listening, he will freeze us into an abstruct modern art."

Leaning against the opposite wall of the corridor, completely ignoring the weeping knights, was Archduke Leonidas Valen.

The Fire Archduke had his arms crossed over his bandaged chest. His bottom lip was stuck out in an incredibly childish pout. He looked like a man who had just had his favorite toy confiscated.

"Damn it all to the blazing hells," Leonidas grumbled under his breath, kicking a speck of dust on the stone floor. "I was winning. I had him on the ropes. He was suffering so beautifully. I was going to teach her how to play flaming dodgeball tomorrow just to watch his eye twitch. And now they’ve made up. The fun is over."

Duchess Lysandra, standing beside her husband, let out a soft, melodic laugh, reaching out to gently pinch his arm.

"Let them be, Leonidas," Lysandra smiled, her amber eyes warm and contented. "The ice has thawed. And besides, I think Kaelus has suffered enough for one lifetime."

Leonidas sighed, his pout slowly melting into a fond, resigned grin. He looked at the heavy oak door.

"He’s a lucky bastard," Leonidas admitted quietly, shaking his head. "To find a light like that in the dark. He’s a lucky, miserable, brooding bastard."

Lysandra rested her head against his shoulder. "They both are, my love. They both are."

Inside the room, the faint sound of Seraphina giggling and Kaelus’s low, rumbling chuckle drifted through the wood, a perfect, harmonious melody that promised the Vanguard, and the Empire, that the terrifying monsters of the North were, finally, exactly where they belonged.

Together.

***

The final few days of the Black Bastion’s residency at the Obsidian Gate were characterized by a chaotic, aggressive, and highly competitive form of packing.

When Duke Kaelus von Nacht had originally departed the Northern territories, the mythril carriage had been stocked with the precise, spartan efficiency of a military campaign.

There had been ledgers, emergency rations, a few changes of armor, and later, they added one small, relatively sensible trunk containing Seraphina’s initial wardrobe.

Now, preparing to leave the Archduchy of Valen, the Vanguard was facing a storage crisis of proportions.

Seraphina had accumulated loot at a rate that defied the laws of physical space.

There was the mountain of incredibly expensive, borderline-ridiculous toys Kaelus had bought her to trigger a tantrum.

There were the custom-crafted, rounded balsa-wood training weapons from Sir Boris, stacks of rare, illuminated picture books gifted by Duchess Lysandra.

And, most problematically, there was Ignis, the former apex fire-spirit, currently a fluffy, perpetually warm pink Pomeranian that refused to sleep anywhere except directly on top of Kaelus’s most classified diplomatic correspondence.

Sir Lucas stood in the sunlit courtyard, with a clipboard in his hand, aggressively directing a team of sweating junior knights who were attempting to strap a iron-bound trunk to the rear of the supply wagon.

"Pivot! Pivot the trunk, you uncoordinated dray-horses!" Lucas barked, gesturing with his quill. "That crate contains the ladies designated sparklers and her emergency stash of candied Valen-nuts! If it tips over on the highway and the sugar crystallizes, I will have you all running laps until the sun burns out!"

"Commander!" Sir Gallahan rushed over, his pristine white cape fluttering, holding a small, delicate crystal terrarium. "Where are we storing the glowing moss-beetles the Lady found in the indoor gardens? They require an ambient temperature of seventy-two degrees to maintain their luminescent properties!"

Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine building behind his eyes. "Put them in the secondary carriage with the Duke’s backup armor. And tell Boris to stop feeding the pink dog the bacon reserves! The beast is composed of magic, it does not need pork!"

While the Vanguard waged war against luggage, Duke Kaelus von Nacht was locked in a bitter, endless battle of attrition in the grand corridors of the fortress.

He had formally handed the supervision of Seraphina over to Duchess Lysandra for the daylight hours.

It was a concession on Kaelus’s part, born of two distinct realities: first, he trusted Lysandra’s moral compass and maternal capabilities; and second, the sheer volume of bureaucratic paperwork required to finalize the audit of the Iron Marches and document the eradication of the subterranean anomaly was staggering.

But relinquishing physical control of his daughter meant exposing her to the chaotic bribery of Archduke Leonidas Valen.

Leonidas, having fully realized that Seraphina was the single greatest, most entertaining entity in the Empire, had absolutely no intention of letting her leave without a fight.

He had spent the last three days practically throwing the treasury of the South at her tiny, leather-booted feet.

Seraphina was currently sitting in the Duchess’s private, glass-domed solarium, sipping a cup of sweetened chamomile tea.

She was wearing a lovely, breathable dress of pale green silk, a gift from Lysandra, and happily feeding tiny pieces of crust to Ignis, who was curled in her lap.

SLAM!!!

The glass doors of the solarium burst open.

Archduke Leonidas marched in, sweating profusely, carrying an incredibly ornate rolled parchment sealed with a ribbon of gold.

"Little spark!" Leonidas bellowed, his voice rattling the delicate teacups on the wrought-iron table. "I achieved a breakthrough! I spent all morning yelling at my accountants, and drafted the ultimate proposal!"

Lysandra sighed softly, taking a delicate sip of her tea. "Leonidas, please do not break the furniture. The child is trying to relax."

"Relaxation is for the stagnant! She still has many important things to do!" Leonidas declared, marching up to the table and unrolling the parchment with a dramatic, sweeping gesture.

"Seraphina! My baby bear~! Come to Uncle quickly!"