Chapter 40: The Next Generation of War

Seraphine stood at the edge of the testing grounds, observing one of her trusted soldiers.

The woman held a steel sphere in her grasp, a short fuse protruding from its top. In her other hand smoldered a slow-burning match cord. Applying the ember to the fuse, the militiaman wound up with all her might, hurled the iron sphere toward the makeshift targets, and instantly ducked behind a thick earthen rampart.

A few seconds later, a deafening roar tore through the air. The shockwave threw a cloud of smoke into the sky, and a hail of sharp steel shrapnel shredded the row of straw dummies, tearing them to ribbons.

Steady applause sounded from behind. Seraphine smiled in satisfaction - the test of the prototype hand grenade had been an absolute success. She intended to soon form elite grenadier squads that would blow any compact feudal formation away at close quarters.

That, however, was not the end of today's trials. Standing beside her, Major Katarina Falk watched the field artillery battery's position with bated breath. The gunners were just ramming an unusual projectile down the bore of a steel twelve-pounder.

The seasoned veteran silently prayed to Christa the Savior that this demonic novelty would not tear the cannon to pieces.

The touchhole was primed with powder, and the gunner applied the linstock. The familiar roar of cannon fire shook the valley. Yet instead of a solid ball that usually ploughed through dirt, the shell exploded a split second upon impacting the target.

Hundreds of glowing-hot steel fragments shrieked through the air, reducing the surrounding wooden targets to fine splinters. The blast radius was incomparably greater than that of the hand grenade.

Rousing cheers erupted from the assembled officers. A predatory, triumphant smirk settled upon Seraphine's lips.

She had finally achieved it - she had engineered the very first modern artillery shell with an impact fuze in this world, modeled after ordnance from her former life.

Against infantry, there was nothing more devastating.

Katarina strode up to her mistress, saluting respectfully:

"My lady, I must congratulate you. With shells such as these, our batteries will pound any army in the empire to dust!"

Seraphine returned the salute with a proud gleam in her sapphire eyes. To achieve a completely balanced force, she lacked only modern cavalry, yet raising mounted formations would have to wait until she officially took the reins of power from Adelgarde.

Even so, wielding canister and explosive fragmentation shells, she could effortlessly crush armies outnumbering her battalion several times over. Within her mind, the grand blueprint of unifying these realms beneath her own crown was taking ever clearer shape.

She issued orders to Sabine Keller to immediately commence covert, serial production of the new casings and grenades, before setting off on the return trek to the stronghold.

Upon reaching the castle, she came across little Rosalie and her younger sister, Marielle, in one of the stone corridors.

Both girls were of similar age and were playing merrily together. Marielle's relationship with Vivienne was an entirely different story - the little girl possessed uncanny intuition and had long sensed that Lady von Drachenberg was up to something with her elder sister behind everyone's backs, scampering away whenever the noblewoman attempted to play nice.

Seraphine's mother, Isolde, regarded Vivienne with an even frostier eye. She was a proud, sharp-witted woman who had suspected since the very first night that something illicit was simmering between her elder daughter and Cordelia's betrothed.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

She turned a blind eye to it, viewing the affair as an ideal opportunity to torpedo the younger daughter's engagement to the house of Arnsbruck. Had she discovered, however, that Vivienne carried Seraphine's bastard beneath her heart, she would have unleashed living hell.

When Rosalie spotted Seraphine, she immediately dashed forward with a radiant face and threw herself into her arms. The heir gently stroked the girl's fair hair. She relished her betrothed's affection, even as she remained acutely aware of just how entangled her life had become.

"Are you finished with your duties for today?" Rosalie asked sweetly.

Seraphine nodded, just as little Marielle tugged at the sleeve of her tunic:

"Sister, will you play with us? Please!"

Seraphine chuckled softly and yielded to their entreaties.

The girls immediately swept her into their make-believe game: Rosalie played the abducted princess, Marielle posed as an evil witch, and Seraphine was cast in the role of the valiant knight.

Though a grown woman felt somewhat foolish chasing about the corridors, the charm of the game won her over. After "slaying" the witch, she scooped a giggling Rosalie into her arms, carrying her like a true lady.

It was then that the young betrothed rested her little hands upon Seraphine's shoulders, rose slightly, and pressed a soft, timid kiss to Seraphine's lips. An instant later she flushed scarlet, burying her face into her neck:

"My savior..."

Seraphine was struck speechless for a heartbeat, completely caught off guard by the gesture. To brush off her embarrassment, she offered with a smile:

"I shall always protect you, my little princess!"

In that very fraction of a second, Vivienne rounded the corner of the corridor. Lady von Drachenberg froze at the scene, pure, unadulterated fury blazing in her stunning blue eyes.

Rosalie, still cradled in the heir's embrace, cast her rival a brazen, triumphant look - she had known full well that Vivienne was standing in the shadows, and had done it deliberately to stake her claim.

Seraphine felt a bead of cold sweat trace down her spine. She had been caught red-handed by her own possessive lover. Attempting to defuse the thickening tension, she asked:

"Will you join us, Vivienne?"

The noblewoman pinned little Rosalie with a frosty glare, before curling her lips into a venomous sneer:

"Thank you, Seraphine, but I outgrew childish games long ago. I advise you to take care - if the adults see you carrying on like this with such young girls, they might begin to think you harbor rather improper inclinations."

With her nose haughtily in the air, she spun on her heel and strutted away with a rustle of skirts, swaying her hips. Rosalie and Seraphine exchanged glances in awkward silence.

Marielle, still sprawled on the flagstones as the "vanquished witch," merely clenched her little fists tighter - her dislike for Lady von Drachenberg hardening even further.

The play came to an abrupt end, and come evening the family gathered around the table for supper. Cordelia was behaving suspiciously quiet.

Seraphine knew full well that her sister was preparing another strike, scheming to leverage her influence with Adelgarde’s Marshal of the Host to dismantle the new militia.

The heir had no intention of waiting on the enemy's move. After nightfall, she slipped away to her secret chemical laboratory.

Today she had completed the purification process for white arsenic - an odorless, lethal powdered poison undetectable to contemporary physicians.

Her espionage network had received explicit instructions: spike the old marshal's wine with minute doses over the coming days. The woman would succumb to a severe gastric ailment, and once weakened, a subsequent dose would quietly dispatch her into the next world.

Cordelia would be stripped of her primary ally within the castle garrison, and once Seraphine formally assumed the regency, she could easily finish tidying house.

Late into the night, having verified that the poison had reached the hands of trusted agents, Seraphine returned to her bedchamber.

Inside, Vivienne was already waiting for her. The noblewoman wore only a scant, unbuttoned nightgown that shamelessly revealed her full, perky breasts with engorged nipples.

At the sight of her entering mistress, she hurled herself at her with wild fervor, locking her mouth in a ravenous, searing kiss, as if determined to erase any lingering trace of little Rosalie from her lips.

Seraphine kicked the door shut behind her, feeling the smooth, supple skin of her favorite beneath her fingertips.

Her cock hardened with formidable power in an instant, straining against her trousers. Seizing the girl by the waist, she tossed her onto the bed and took her without mercy for the rest of the night, extinguishing her jealousy beneath rolling waves of pure, shameless ecstasy.