"Enter," Kaelus rumbled, his voice vibrating deeply against Seraphina's back.
The heavy oak doors swung open.
Escorted by Sir Lucas, three high-ranking vassals of the Southern territories stepped into the room.
They were wealthy, arrogant-looking men, dripping in gold chains and expensive silks, their faces set in expressions of polite, nervous deference.
They had come to grovel, to attempt to renegotiate their trade agreements with the fearsome Northern warlord.
The vassals stopped in front of the desk, preparing to bow and offer their meticulously rehearsed, honey-tongued speeches.
They looked at the Archduke.
They saw the terrifying, glowing violet eyes.
And then, they saw the tiny, dark-haired child sitting casually in the center of the Reaper's lap, swinging her legs, currently attempting to stack three highly classified, magically sealed ledgers into a makeshift pyramid.
The vassals blinked.
