Mordred

Rem’s temper is foul and his ambition boundless.

To seize resources and expand territory, he must have offended plenty of Demon Lords.

Why not reach out to those he’s crossed?

We might gain more allies—or at the very least, convince some to stay neutral.

Vivian’s eyes lit up.

She slapped her own forehead.

“Damn, that’s brilliant! How did I not think of that?!”

“Come here, you deserve a kiss!”

“Hey—!”

In her excitement, Vivian spun around, grabbed Lucia’s hand, and before the other woman could react, planted a loud, smacking “mwah!” on her cool, fair cheek.

Lucia let out a startled yelp.

“When did our Hero of Light pick up political scheming?”

“Have I corrupted you? What a sin—turning an upright hero into a schemer!”

She could tell Vivian was teasing.

Lucia’s cheeks flushed crimson.

She turned away, embarrassed.

“I was just tossing out an idea… And don’t do that out of nowhere!”

“Alright, alright, my bad. I shouldn’t have ambushed you.”

Seeing the once-steady hero reduced to a shy, flustered mess, Vivian burst into laughter.

All the gloom of the past days melted away.

She scooted closer again.

“But seriously—thank you.”

“I was so focused on the embargo and internal cleanup that I completely overlooked pulling in other lords.”

“This changes everything. It could be a game-changer.”

Lucia’s lips curved upward, though she tried to sound stern.

“Good. Now stop bothering me and go do your job.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian gave a playful salute and moved to the desk.

She began sifting through potential allies.

Rem had made many enemies, but the one closest and most capable of immediate pressure was Lord Mordred of Ash Barrier.

Mordred and Rem’s feud went back decades.

They had warred over a rich vein.

Rem tricked Mordred, seized most of his territory, and reduced a fellow Demon Lord to a mere lord holding only the Ash Barrier.

That humiliation was carved into Mordred’s bones.

For years the two had refused even to speak.

If Vivian ever shook hands with Rem, Mordred would still never forgive him.

Ash Barrier sat east of both Evernight and Molten Heart—an ideal frontline position.

If Mordred stayed neutral, shared even scraps of human coalition intelligence, or simply maintained a strong border presence, Rem would be forced to keep troops back.

He could never commit his full strength against Evernight.

Vivian picked up her pen and began writing a secret letter.

“Esteemed Lord Mordred,”

“I am Vivian, Demon Lord of Evernight—a name you may not yet know, but one who strives to ensure her people never go hungry or cold.”

She cut straight to the point.

“With your wisdom, you have surely seen through the recent actions of the tyrant of Molten Heart.”

“Rem wields his temporary military superiority to impose trade blockades, attempting to strangle Evernight’s lifeblood.”

“His wolfish ambition is plain for all to see.”

“He has always been arrogant and faithless.”

“Today it is Evernight.”

“Tomorrow—who can guarantee his greedy gaze will not fall upon another neighbor?”

“Upon, say, the strategically vital Ash Barrier?”

Then she extended the olive branch—tangible benefits.

“Thus, on behalf of Evernight, I propose cooperation rooted in shared interest and shared threat.”

“We offer high-quality Evernight crystals and processed goods at thirty percent below market price, long-term.”

“Plus the latest standard magitech armor and weapons from our workshops.”

“Should war erupt, so long as you remain neutral, we will provide defensive magitech schematics and emergency supplies as needed.”

“In return, we ask only that you refrain from aiding Rem in any conflict with Evernight.”

“Any intelligence—no matter how small—regarding human coalition movements would be deeply appreciated.”

“And of course, a modest military presence on your border naturally deters Molten Heart.”

“Who knows what secret deals Rem might have with human kingdoms?”

“Caution never hurts.”

At the end, she let her tone lighten—friendly, almost conspiratorial.

“Rem is stubborn, makes enemies wherever he goes, and thinks himself untouchable.”

“Instead of watching our backs forever, why not—you and I—give the arrogant lava lord a little trouble together?”

“Let him taste sleepless nights for once.”

“This world no longer bends to his whims alone.”

She reviewed the letter, rewrote it in special magical ink visible only under a specific reagent, then sealed it.

No interception would reveal its contents.

She wrote similar letters—tailored differently—to two or three other lords who bore Rem ill will.

Some offered trade, others sought neutrality at minimum.

By the time she finished, pale dawn light crept through the window.

Vivian set down the pen, stretched, and felt the satisfying weight of a clear strategy.

She glanced at the bed.

Lucia was asleep, breathing soft and even, moonlight softening her features.

Beside her, little Luna sprawled starfished, limbs everywhere, drool glistening at the corner of her mouth—a perfect contrast to Lucia’s elegance.

Vivian smiled fondly and tiptoed over to tuck the child in properly.

The very next morning, she summoned the Gilded Chamber’s contact.

“Deliver these secret letters through Lady Anguist’s safest channels.”

“Personally into the hands of Lord Mordred of Ash Barrier and the others.”

“This concerns Evernight’s future and our breakthrough strategy.”

“The Chamber’s assistance will never be forgotten.”

“Once successful, Evernight offers generous reward—trade priority, deeper cooperation, all negotiable.”

The contact knew of the good relationship between Lady Anguist and Demon Lord Vivian.

He accepted without hesitation.

“Rest assured, Lord Demon Lord. The Gilded Chamber’s secret routes are ironclad.”

“We will deliver them swiftly.”

In just a few short days, Vivian’s letter reached Mordred in Ash Barrier.

The fortress loomed grim and oppressive atop the perpetually ash-shrouded Black Stone Mountains—a monument to its lord’s resentment.

Mordred sat upon a throne of black iron.

A trusted retainer knelt, presenting a letter delivered through special channels, bearing the hidden seal of the Gilded Chamber.

The lord was massive, skin dark gray, two thick crimson horns curving from his forehead—marks of ancient, unyielding demon blood.

“Vivian?”

He snorted, voice gravel and disdain.

“That little girl who got captured by humans, escaped, and started playing house in Evernight?”

“What could she possibly want? Begging for trade or protection?”

He took the letter anyway.

The faint mana seal and Chamber mark piqued his curiosity.

He forced a thread of pure ash mana from his fingertip, broke the seal, and unfolded the page.

When he saw the reagent-only ink, surprise flickered in his eyes.

He retrieved a vial of universal decryptor from a hidden compartment and dripped it on.

Words emerged.

At first his expression remained the usual arrogant impatience.

But as he read—Vivian openly naming Rem’s threat, hinting at future designs on Ash Barrier—his nostrils flared with a heavy, icy huff.

When he reached the offer of discounted crystals, cutting-edge magitech gear, and wartime technical aid, his thick fingers unconsciously tapped the armrest once.

And when he came to the playful yet pointed suggestion of giving Rem trouble together…

“Pfft—”

Mordred actually laughed out loud.

The sound echoed through the bleak throne hall, startling even himself—then grew into genuine, rumbling laughter laced with long-buried satisfaction.

“Heh… hahaha!”

He shook his head, grinning.

“Vivian, you little brat!”

“Got some guts—and a sharp tongue!”

“Daring to tease me? Interesting!”

He lowered the letter, leaning forward.

In the crimson furnace of his eyes burned memory of old humiliation, bone-deep hatred for Rem, careful weighing of the offer—and a newly kindled spark.

The spark of “maybe… just maybe… revenge is possible.”

“But…”

His grin widened, all teeth and ash.

“That idiot Rem really does need someone to teach him a lesson.”