Mornings at Argentos Castle were usually filled with the rhythmic clashing of steel from the training grounds, but today, the atmosphere felt more ominous. Duke Frederick von Argentos had returned early from his border inspection. His presence always brought a heavy aura of authority, as if the very ice mountains of the North had stepped into the halls of the castle.
Sera stood on the second-floor balcony, watching her father dismount from his massive black stallion. Frederick was a man of gargantuan build, with a prominent scar running across his left cheek, yet his eyes—eyes as blue as Seraphina's—always softened whenever he looked upon this home. To the people of Aethelgard, he was an unshakable wall of defense. To the current Sera, inhabited by the soul of Rei, this man was a key piece on the board and a complicated emotional burden.
"He is too honest," Sera murmured softly. "In this world, the overly honest are always the first to be stabbed in the back."
Sera quickly adjusted her nightgown and donned a long silk robe to conceal the dagger she always kept strapped to her left thigh. She had to play the role of the fragile Seraphina perfectly today. She descended the grand staircase with steps she intentionally made unsteady, as if she were still in the throes of recovery.
In the main hall, Frederick was removing his leather gloves when he saw his youngest daughter descending. The General's stoic face instantly melted.
"Sera," Frederick's voice was deep and gravelly, yet filled with affection. He strode forward and caught Sera's shoulders carefully, as if afraid she would shatter if he held her too firmly. "Why are you out of your room? Rose mentioned you could walk, but the Northern air is unkind today."
"Father, I am much better," Sera offered a thin smile—one she had practiced in the mirror to show traces of trauma while attempting to appear brave. "I only wanted to welcome you home. I heard there were troubles at the border?"
Frederick went silent for a moment. He stroked his daughter's silver hair, but Sera could see the darkness in his eyes. "Merely routine matters, child. Do not fret over things meant for men in armor. Your only task is to be healthy and happy."
An impossible task, Sera thought. She knew her father was lying. Frederick sought to protect Seraphina from the rot of imperial politics, but Rei knew that ignorance was the fastest ticket to a grave.
In the afternoon, Frederick invited Sera for tea in his study. This was a rare occasion. Typically, Frederick spent his time with his two sons, Cassian and Julian, discussing military strategy. Inviting Seraphina to his study meant something was weighing heavily on his heart.
The room was filled with tactical maps and the scent of cedar wood. Frederick sat behind his heavy, massive desk, while Sera sat in the velvet chair across from him.
"Sera," Frederick began after a sip of his bitter tea. "You are fifteen now. The incident at the lake... it made me realize I cannot keep you in a cage forever."
Sera set her teacup down soundlessly. "What is it you wish to say, Father?"
"Emperor Valdemar has sent an official invitation," Frederick sighed, his fingers tapping the desk in a restless rhythm. "The Spring Banquet at the Capital. He has specifically requested your presence. He says Crown Prince Bastian wishes to greet the daughter of the empire's hero."
Sera felt a cold stir in her stomach. Not out of fear, but because she knew exactly what this invitation meant. Crown Prince Bastian was a vain man hungry for power. Inviting her wasn't an act of hospitality; it was the first step toward turning Argentos into a political hostage through the bonds of marriage or concubinage.
"Do you object to my going, Father?" Sera asked, probing for his reaction.
"I loathe the idea," Frederick answered honestly, his eyes flashing with anger. "The capital is a viper's nest. But to refuse a direct order from the Emperor while border tensions are high... it could be seen as an act of treason. The Argentos have many enemies at court just waiting for us to make one small mistake."
Sera observed her father's expression. Frederick was a Great General, but he was a poor diplomat. He thought with honor, while his enemies thought with poison and betrayal.
"If Father is worried, let me handle them," Sera said calmly. "I am no longer afraid."
Frederick stared at his daughter in wonder. "You have seemed... different since waking from the coma, Sera. Calmer. Bolder."
"Death provides a new perspective, Father," Sera replied curtly.
That night, following the meeting with her father, Sera could not sleep. She decided to train in the secret basement she had discovered with Sir Kael. She needed to ensure this body could follow Rei's instincts completely before she set foot in the Capital.
Under the dim torchlight, Sera moved with shocking speed. She did not use a greatsword like her father, but rather the two short daggers she had taken from her mother's chest. She danced between stone pillars, slicing the air with the precision of an executioner.
One, two, thrust.
Pivot, parry, slash.
Every movement made her muscles scream in protest, yet she did not stop. Suddenly, she sensed a presence in the darkness. Without hesitation, Sera hurled one of her daggers toward the shadow in the corner of the room.
Clang!
The dagger was easily deflected by a short sword. Alaric von Xerxes stepped out from the shadows, casually twirling Sera's dagger in his fingers.
"Good reflexes, but you're using your left shoulder too much," Alaric commented. He tossed the dagger back to Sera, who caught it deftly.
"You have a bad habit of sneaking into other people's secret places, Grand Duke," Sera hissed. "Does House Xerxes have no work other than stalking me?"
Alaric let out a low, gravelly chuckle. "I just finished discussing Northern troop logistics with your father. He seemed very distressed. And seeing you here, practicing how to kill in the middle of the night... I'm starting to think you're the only person in this castle with a realistic plan."
Alaric approached Sera, his crimson eyes—the epithet 'The Crimson' was not for nothing—staring intensely at Sera's hand, which was trembling slightly from exhaustion.
"You intend to go to the Capital?" Alaric asked.
"I must. Avoiding it will only hasten the fall of Argentos."
"Good," Alaric sheathed his sword. "Because I have been summoned there as well. The Emperor wants me to report on 'suspicious activity' at the Northern border. He wants me to be the witness that brings your father down."
Sera narrowed her eyes. "And what will you do?"
"That depends," Alaric shrugged. "If you agree to our contract terms, I can be a very 'forgetful' witness before the Emperor. But the Capital is the territory of General Mordred and the Iron Guard. If you make a mistake there, I cannot guarantee your head stays on your shoulders."
Sera stepped closer until the tip of her dagger touched the breastplate of Alaric's armor. "I don't need your guarantees, Alaric. I only need you to do your part as the executioner. Let me handle the politics."
Alaric leaned down, his face inches from hers. "You're very confident for a girl who hasn't even learned to control her ghost aura without coughing up blood."
Sera smiled coldly. "Pain is a reminder that I am still alive. And as long as I live, not a single member of my family will die at the hands of Valdemar."
The next day, preparations for the journey to the Capital began. Madam Rose was busy preparing the finest gowns, while Sir Kael secretly organized a small escort unit comprised of the most loyal war veterans.
Sera summoned Elara to her room. The maid looked nervous, but her eyes shone with resolve.
"What of the information, Elara?"
"Old Man Gus gave me this, My Lady," Elara handed over a crumpled piece of paper. "He said Marquis Fenris's logistics wagons aren't just carrying grain. There are heavy crates marked with the Holy Church's seal being sent toward the Southern border—the opposite direction of our mana mines."
Sera read the message and immediately burned it in a candle flame. "The Church and Fenris are moving resources. They are preparing something in the South while everyone's attention is fixed on the North. How clever."
Sera realized she was facing a vast labyrinth of conspiracy. On one side was a power-hungry Emperor, on the other a corrupt Church with a mystical agenda, and petty nobles scrambling for scraps of power.
She turned toward the window, looking out at the vast ice mountains. She thought of her father, Frederick, who was currently reviewing his troops with pride, unaware that the people he called 'colleagues' were preparing a noose for him.
"Father," Sera whispered softly. "You taught me about honor in this life, but in your current world, honor is poison. Let me be the one to drink that poison for you."
Before her departure, Frederick gave Sera a gift: a necklace with a large sapphire pendant surrounded by silver carvings in the shape of a wolf.
"This belonged to your mother," Frederick said as he fastened the necklace around Sera's neck. "She always said that this sapphire would shine brightest when the darkness was deepest. I want you to wear it in the Capital. Let everyone know you are the daughter of an Argentos."
Sera touched the cold sapphire. She felt a faint magical vibration within it. This wasn't mere jewelry; it was a protective artifact, perhaps a way for her late mother to protect her even from the afterlife.
"Thank you, Father. I will cherish it."
Frederick hugged Sera one last time before she boarded the carriage that would take her to the Aethelgard Capital. Cassian and Julian could not join as they had to guard the border, leaving Sera alone in the palace's den of wolves—at least, that was what everyone thought.
However, inside the luxurious carriage, Sera wasn't reading poetry. She was studying a map of the Capital's sewers obtained from Old Man Gus. And in the shadows behind the carriage, she knew Alaric von Xerxes was following with his own shadow army.
The journey to the Capital would take five days. Five days that Sera used to map out every possible conflict. She knew that upon arrival, she would no longer be the sickly Seraphina. She was The Ghost, creeping into the heart of the enemy.
"Welcome to the new chapter, Valdemar," Sera muttered as her carriage passed through the massive, grand Gothic-Victorian gates of the Capital. "I hope you've prepared your own coffin."
At the palace gates, Crown Prince Bastian was already waiting with a nauseating smile of triumph, surrounded by the Iron Guard. Sera took a deep breath, suppressed her ghost aura as deep as possible, and donned the mask of a traumatized, fragile noble girl.
The real game of chess had begun. And on this board, Sera had no intention of being a pawn. She was the player who would kick the table over if necessary.