“Seraphina, you must remember, your ideas are bold, and at the same time extremely dangerous… Are you truly sure you want to do this?”
Deep into the night, Movira lay beside Seraphina, propped on one elbow, gazing at her as she spoke softly.
Seraphina nodded. She had felt it too. In recent days the documents had grown increasingly acrid with gunpowder. The black soil at Blackstone Outpost had been sabotaged.
The Giantwing Demons’ trade routes were repeatedly blocked by so-called “natural disasters.”
Even the Bloodborn mining operations had been delayed for mysterious reasons.
These were the most critical events of the past two days, and also the thorniest.
Meanwhile, from the lower demon clans came no news at all of new black-soil discoveries…
“Throughout history, every great undertaking has required blood and sacri—”
Seraphina’s resolute words were cut short as Movira silenced her, of course, with her own lips.
As expected, Movira couldn’t go a single night without causing some mischief.
Yet Seraphina had grown somewhat accustomed to it; her mind no longer blanked completely.
She only blushed a little.
“Ha—! What are you doing?!”
“I won’t allow you to say such things, do you understand? I’m worried about you.”
Movira’s stern face suddenly produced that line…
Fine. Seraphina still wasn’t completely used to it.
The direct strike left her stunned. Her cheeks flushed crimson in an instant, even the tips of her ears burning red.
She wanted to scold her, but shock stole her voice. All she could do was glare with wide eyes at Movira’s wicked grin.
“W-what nonsense are you spouting?!”
One second they were seriously discussing state affairs, the next second she… she just pounced?!
When Seraphina finally found her voice again, it trembled with obvious embarrassment and anger. She tried to look fierce to hide the panic inside.
“How could that be nonsense? Besides, it seems Seraphina has grown used to kisses, but not yet to verbal… teasing!”
Movira reached out and gently pinched Seraphina’s already scarlet ear. “Haven’t I been good enough to you? Everything in your life is provided by me. Whatever you want to do, I support you almost unconditionally.”
“Doesn’t that prove… that I care about you?”
“What kind of ridiculous things are you saying?!” Seraphina tried to turn her head away, dodging the hand.
But Movira yanked her back, even closer.
“Shameless!”
Movira said nothing, only pulled Seraphina into her chest…
“Fine, I’m shameless.” Her tone was indulgent, she murmured to the little person in her arms.
“Didn’t you want to push the new policies? Reclamation and planting? I don’t know what meaning there is in it, but… I support you. Go ahead and do it boldly.”
“If you fail, it’s fine. At worst, I’ll just—”
…
That same day at dusk…
Twilight in the Demon Realm always lingered, as though the horizon where sky kissed earth had clotted into dried blood and refused to fade.
Seraphina once again stole idle moments in the courtyard, enjoying the few remaining days of relative peace. She watched Lina pruning a cluster of strangely shaped roses.
Ailinuo sat on a stone bench nearby, absorbed in an ancient volume on the crests of old demon clans, a topic that clearly fascinated her.
“Your Highness.” Ailinuo looked up with eager, knowledge-hungry eyes. “The book says the emblem of the Fangs of Terror is a claw tearing apart the stars. What does that mean?”
Seraphina’s gaze shifted from the darkening sky and answered calmly, “It means worship of the old destructive powers and absolute faith in conquest through force.”
Her tone was flat, as though discussing a historical footnote unrelated to the present.
Yet that long-buried name lingered in Lina’s mind for a long while.
At that moment, hurried footsteps shattered the courtyard’s tranquility.
A messenger maid approached quickly, bowed, and reported, “Your Highness, Commander Bask has sent an urgent courier from Blackstone Outpost with critical military intelligence.”
Normally Bask’s letters arrived at dawn. For one to come so late, and marked urgent, it must concern the lesser demons.
Still, “urgent” meant overtime.
“Take him to the study to wait.” Her voice remained steady; she didn’t think much of it. Border reports came often enough, usually nothing too troublesome.
She had grown used to them.
Rising, she told Lina and Ailinuo, “Carry on,” then followed the maid to the study.
Inside stood a dust-covered courier still in full armor. The moment he saw Seraphina he dropped to one knee and held up a scroll sealed with beeswax with both hands.
His breathing was clearly exhausted, having ridden straight to the castle without rest.
“Your Highness, Lord Bask ordered me to deliver this with all haste!”
The scene made Seraphina’s brows knit. She didn’t return to her desk; she took the scroll right there at the door.
Breaking the wax, she read, and her heart eased slightly.
The report stated that a Giantwing Demon merchant caravan carrying seeds and farming materials to Blackstone Outpost had been ambushed. Goods plundered, five escort soldiers wounded.
“Lesser demons again? Or just blind bandits?” Seraphina’s voice carried faint irritation. “Bask should be able to handle this himself. Why does he send everything to me?”
“You may go rest. The reply will be carried by a knight.”
She returned to the desk, picked up a quill, preparing to dispatch a small unit of demon knights to clear the trade route’s lookout points.
And to give Bask a scolding while she was at it.
But as she lifted the quill, she happened to glance at the soldier still kneeling there.
“Why haven’t you gone to rest?”
He raised his head. His face was not merely pale from exhaustion; it was ashen with suppressed rage.
“Your Highness… the attackers were neither lesser demons nor random bandits. They were highly organized, skilled, and utterly ruthless! And they left a mark at the scene!”
“A mark?!” Seraphina flipped the scroll over and over, there was nothing on it.
“For secrecy, Lord Bask ordered me to draw it for you personally.”
“Very well.” She instructed the waiting maid, “Give him paper and pen.”
Soon, on the sheet appeared a star forcibly torn asunder, with three claw slashes beneath it.
This… it looked so familiar!
Wasn’t this the very emblem she had just explained to Ailinuo…?!
Coincidence…?!
The quill in Seraphina’s hand froze mid-air. A drop of ink fell onto the paper before her, spreading rapidly like spilled blood.
The air in the study turned ice-cold, as though it might freeze solid.
Fangs of Terror…?!