“This is a policy whose merits will be felt today and whose benefits will echo for a thousand autumns. Would you truly rather watch your people tear one another apart in endless strife than attempt a path that leads the Demon Realm toward stability and prosperity?”
Seraphina’s gaze burned like torches as it fixed upon the representatives below.
For a moment, the entire hall fell deathly silent.
At that instant, Dekrian smiled faintly and stepped forward. His cue had arrived!
Moreover, the honorary lordship Seraphina offered truly did not threaten his own interests in the slightest.
Those most affected would only be the lesser nobles.
The influx of new barons—and at highest, viscounts—would merely dilute the prestige of those two ranks.
As for himself… he refused to believe anyone could farm their way to a dukedom.
(Duke, Marquis, Count, Viscount, Baron)
With impeccable grace, he took one step forward and declared in a resonant voice, “Your Highness possesses profound foresight.
This servant believes the proposal excellent. Using limited honorary titles to inspire the masses and encourage reclamation serves the Demon Realm well.
I fully support Your Highness’s resolution!”
As the highest-ranking noble in the Demon Realm, his stance carried immense weight for many clans.
Sure enough, the moment his words left his lips, mid-tier clans and the more progressive ones hastened to voice their agreement.
Among them were races inherently unsuited to warfare—the true greatest beneficiaries of this new policy.
They saw opportunity: a path to honor and potential profit that required no bloody battlefield.
Opposition still lingered, yet before Seraphina’s clearly drawn red lines—“honorary title only” and “extinguished after the second generation”—and bolstered by the support of certain factions, those objections lost much of their former righteousness.
Still, it was not quite enough.
Governance in the Demon Realm differed fundamentally from the Human Empire.
The latter resembled a spiritual monolith—unbreakable once united.
The former—the Demon Realm—was built upon contracts: pacts signed under Movira’s threat by each clan leader.
Fragile.
Opportunistic.
Always ready to be renegotiated.
That was precisely why more was needed.
Thus, Seraphina decided to administer the final stabilizing pill.
“Have all of you overlooked one point? Does this policy’s incentive merely elevate commoners into minor nobility? Could it not… also apply to you?”
Before her words fully settled, Dekrian’s brows knitted. What was the meaning of this? Killing the ox after it pulls the plow?
Your Highness, that would be rather ungracious.
If viscount and baron could not shake his position, this final addition bordered on dangerous.
In the Demon Realm, advancement in rank was almost always tied to feats of war. With no major conflicts in the past year, most marquises had no path upward.
That only increased the rarity—and thus the value—of his own ducal title. Seraphina’s statement felt like a death sentence aimed straight at him!
Despite the surge of discontent within, his face betrayed nothing.
He maintained the same smile as before.
Only his eyes grew colder.
Of course, the moment those words were spoken, the last few voices of opposition instantly vanished.
The chance to raise one’s own title…
Even the most belligerent Flame Demon representative gradually fell silent, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed his thoughts completely.
“Very well. That concludes today’s assembly. Over the next few days, return home and await further instructions. Then act according to my approved directives.”
Seraphina was perfectly aware of the little schemes swirling in Dekrian’s mind. Just as he prepared to depart, she quietly called him back.
In the side hall, though inwardly displeased, Dekrian still afforded Seraphina full courtesy on the surface.
Seraphina approached his side but did not speak immediately. Instead, she turned her gaze toward the scenery beyond the window.
A brief, oppressive silence filled the chamber—a formless pressure, and also a chance for him to gather his words.
“Duke Dekrian, do you believe my earlier words were intended to shake the very foundations of the Demon Realm?”
Seraphina finally spoke, her tone still cool, yet compared to the throne room, it carried less majesty and more pragmatism.
Dekrian turned slowly, staring in the same direction she had been looking.
His crimson eyes concealed emotion masterfully, yet a trace of distance remained impossible to hide.
“Your Highness exaggerates. The new policy you promote benefits the Demon Realm. It is only that…”
“If the ‘Merit of Tillage’ were truly allowed to influence higher ranks, I fear unrest would follow. After all, martial achievement and bloodline are the cornerstones of demon honor.”
His wording was cautious and clever—he never voiced personal grievance, instead elevating his concern to the welfare of the entire realm.
How could Seraphina miss the implication?
She inclined her head slightly, acknowledging part of what he said.
“Indeed, the cornerstone is paramount.
Yet the structure built atop it matters just as much. Should that structure totter, even the hardest foundation is useless.”
“Food is the key to keeping that structure steady.”
Then she addressed Dekrian’s deepest worry head-on.
“Furthermore, I give Your Grace my personal assurance: any elevation of rank through the ‘Merit of Tillage’ will be strictly capped at viscount and baron.”
She paused deliberately, watching his reaction.
This point had already been mentioned during the assembly, so Dekrian showed no visible change.
Seraphina continued, “Moreover, such elevation will be far from easy. It will require joint deliberation by myself and Her Majesty, as well as consultation with all of you. The standard will far exceed ordinary military merit. In other words, this is not an easy ladder of promotion—it is a special commendation reserved for the most extreme circumstances. Whether even one case appears within the next century remains uncertain.”
With masterful sleight of phrasing, she shifted the focus from “whether advancement is possible” to “advancement is extraordinarily difficult.”
She soothed Dekrian’s fears while preserving a sliver of future maneuverability for herself.
Dekrian’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.
Outwardly he remained unchanged, but inwardly he began to accept Seraphina’s judgment.
Her posture had been lowered considerably.
If he pressed further now, he would only appear petty.
“Your Highness has considered everything thoroughly. It is I who was narrow-minded.”
Dekrian bowed slightly, his tone easing in ways only the perceptive would notice.
“I merely wonder—why raise such a… possibility at all? It seemed unnecessary.”
At last Seraphina turned to face him directly.
A flicker of candid helplessness passed through her eyes.
“In the end, they must be given some hope.
Only when they can see it will they be truly motivated.
Whether they can actually reach it… is another matter entirely.”
“Her Majesty the Demon King maintains order through iron rule. Yet sometimes… a delicately crafted lie is also needed.”
These near-confessional words finally dissolved the last of Dekrian’s remaining wariness.
A purposeful lie, in his view, far surpassed empty promises.
He admired it.
He respected it deeply.