The Blackened Ladle throbbed in Evangeline's chubby fist as the ocean began to shake.
A terrible silence fell even the seabirds stopped mid-squawk.
Then the infant spoke.
"No."
The word hit like a battering ram made of pure will.
The castle's foundation stones groaned as every liquid in a five-mile radius soup, wine, even the Duke's nervous sweat instantly flattened into mirror-still obedience.
The Duchess dropped her fan.
"Well. That's… new."
Whiskerton's ears flattened.
"We're doomed. But in a very tidy way."
The Duke, having fainted twice and been revived with smelling salts, staggered to his feet and grabbed the nearest scribe.
"New law!" he wheezed. "Article… whatever we're on now! All seafood is subsequently banned! Especially the sentient kind!"
The scribe wrote furiously. "Does that include, uh—" He gestured helplessly at the ditch, where a giant squid was currently trying to knit itself a sweater out of kelp.
"ESPECIALLY THAT!"
The Duchess sighed and rang her bell again.
"Someone fetch Seraphina. And a larger cutlass."
Theo's spectral brigade regrouped in the courtyard, their ectoplasm still dripping from the last battle.
"Right lads," Theo said, tapping his ghostly clipboard. "New strategy: haunt the seafood back.*"
Sir Clanksalot's helmet tilted.
"But… we're already dead."
"Exactly! We'll out-spook them!"
The plan might have worked, if not for the sudden arrival of Black Broth'e secret weapon an entire battalion of ghost shrimp, translucent and wielding miniature cutlasses.
The two spectral forces clashed in midair, their weapons passing harmlessly through each other.
"This… isn't working," Theo admitted, as a shrimp phased through his breastplate to steal his pocket watch.
Cedric facepalmed. "We're losing a war to crustacean poltergeists."
The newly recognized House of Follicle had taken over the castle's smallest banquet hall.
Dante sat slumped in his chair, his hair now arranged into an elaborate headdress of braids, while Lucien read aloud from Noble Etiquette for Sentient Carbohydrates.
"As a recognized peer," Lucien intoned, "you may now levy taxes on all hair products in the kingdom."
The strands vibrated excitedly, twisting into abacus shapes to calculate potential revenue.
The Duke stormed in, wild-eyed.
"We are under siege and you're discussing conditioner tariffs?!"
Dante's hair formed a shrugging motion.
The Duchess pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I'll allow it. But only if they contribute to the war effort."
The locks immediately wove themselves into a net.
"…That's actually not terrible," the Duke admitted.
…..
"MINE!"
Evangeline's voice cracked like thunder. The Blackened Ladle twisted in her grip, and suddenly vice leader of the Black Broth… sneezed.
Then stared at his hand in horror.
"Did that baby just bless my cursed artifact?!"
Whiskerton purred.
"Oh, she didn't bless it. She claimed it."
The artifact turned a cheerful pink.
In the nursery, Evangeline happily gummed her newest toy, The Black Broth's artifact now permanently pink jewel, which had shrunk to baby-safe proportions.
The Selphina herself sat slumped in the rocking chair, looking thoroughly defeated.
"I can't believe I got beaten by a teething infant," she muttered.
Whiskerton sniffed. "You're lucky she didn't decide to eat your cutlass."
As if on cue, a loud crunch echoed from the courtyard.
The Duchess sighed.
"That'll be the west tower's gargoyle."