Correspondence

Though he had to admit Vivian’s letter made some sense, the arrogance carved into Mordred’s bones would never let him bow so easily.

He snorted coldly.

He ordered paper and ink brought at once.

Dipping the pen in thick, almost vicious strokes, he wrote a reply dripping with contempt and extortion.

“Little girl Vivian,”

The opening alone reeked of a lecturing elder.

“You want Ash Barrier to stay neutral while you squabble with Rem? Fine—but the terms will be mine.”

“First: every new technology from Evernight—magitech armor, substitute alloys, everything—shared unconditionally and free of charge.”

“Second: if war breaks out, you, Demon Lord Vivian, will personally lead elite forces to reinforce Ash Barrier with true Demon-Lord-level might.”

“Third: Evernight crystal prices drop another twenty percent and my orders take absolute priority.”

“Fail to meet these, and we have nothing to discuss.”

The letter was short, brutal, and utterly certain she had no choice but to accept.

When the reply reached Evernight City, Vivian was buried in ore samples and charts with Elder Green, optimizing mana activation rates.

She casually broke the seal, skimmed the few merciless lines, blinked—then burst out laughing and shaking her head.

“This Mordred… arrogant in the cutest way.”

“Tech sharing? Demon-Lord-level aid? Why doesn’t he just ask me to gift him Evernight City while he’s at it?”

Lucia leaned over, read it, and frowned.

“Outrageous! This is outright robbery! Tech sharing is our lifeline—we can never agree!”

“What about the other lords?”

“No rush.”

Vivian’s eyes sparkled with mischief instead of anger.

She spread fresh parchment and picked up her favorite pen.

“He wants to play proud? I’ll play along.”

“It’s been a while since I had this much fun negotiating.”

She wrote a reply so infuriatingly cheeky it practically begged to be burned.

“Most esteemed Lord Mordred,”

The honorific dripped with sarcasm.

“Your conditions lack even a shred of sincerity, don’t they?”

“, I’m perfectly open to sharing technology—but on equal terms.”

“Shouldn’t you first offer Ash Barrier’s closely guarded deep-vein surveying techniques?”

“Demon-Lord-level support? Not a problem at all!”

“As long as you pin down Rem’s main force and whatever human legions show up, I’ll gladly lead Evernight’s finest straight into the fire for you!”

“Why stop at crystals? Why not make them free and throw in shipping costs while we’re at it?”

She paused the pen, then deliberately twisted the knife.

“By the way, I heard that back in your younger days, you suffered a rather… unfortunate loss to Rem over a certain vein?”

“Not only was the vein taken, your territory nearly changed hands entirely?”

“Just curious—was that story true or mere rumor?”

At the end she doodled a cheeky little tongue-sticking-out face and locked it in place with a faint trace of mana.

Satisfied, she handed it to the waiting Gilded Chamber courier.

Lucia watched the whole thing, jaw dropped.

“Lord Demon Lord… you’re trying to enrage him!”

“What if he really refuses?”

“Don’t worry.”

Vivian grinned confidently.

“He hates Rem far too much to let a chance to screw him over slip away.”

“The prouder he is, the more he falls for provocation.”

“The more we act like we don’t care and hit back harder, the more he’ll dig in his heels to prove he’s above us.”

Sure enough.

When Mordred received the taunting masterpiece, veins bulged at his temples.

He nearly crumpled the letter and tossed it into the fireplace.

But when his eyes snagged again on the words “lost to Rem,” the rage turned into something darker—humiliation and obsession intertwined.

He slammed the table and scribbled back.

“Insolent brat! That year was nothing but a momentary lapse that let a filthy sneak like Rem get lucky!”

“Deep-vein surveying tech… can be discussed!”

“But you must first deliver the core schematics of your magitech armor as proof of good faith!”

“Pin down both Rem and the humans? Impossible!”

“I’ll take one front at most!”

“Crystals drop another ten percent—that’s my final line!”

And so, unnoticed by the rest of demonkind, the two began a full-blown letter war.

What started as barbed negotiation slowly spiraled into debates over demon history, comparisons of mineral deposits, and finally devolved into whose demonic beast tasted better grilled.

Vivian:

“Lord Mordred, you actually like lava boar?”

“That stuff’s tough and gamey!”

“Our shadow venison sprinkled with mana-crystal dust is so tender even my kid drools!”

Mordred shot back:

“Ignorant whelp! Lava boar is firm—the more you chew, the richer the magma-sweetness!”

“Shadow venison is mush with no bite!”

“Next shipment I’ll send two prime dressed boars—prepare to have your mind changed!”

Vivian instantly replied:

“Deal! I’ll have the kitchen prepare our secret-recipe shadow jerky.”

“One bite and you’ll never look at tough boar the same way!”

“By the way—how’s the quality of your fire crystals? We need some for research. Good ones can be traded for jerky!”

The letters grew longer and longer, veering wildly off-topic into pure domestic nonsense.

The Gilded Chamber couriers were utterly baffled.

Half a month later, Anguist stared at a crate overflowing with letters, her usually impeccable face dark as storm clouds.

The steward reported miserably:

“Manager, Lady Vivian and Lord Mordred’s correspondence has filled an entire chest—full of utter nonsense!”

“Our riders are practically their personal mailmen now!”

Anguist rubbed her throbbing temples.

“These two Demon Lords…”

“One busy farming and reforming, the other brooding in his broken fortress with nothing better to do…”

“How do they find the time to relieve boredom by writing novels to each other?”

“Can’t they just use the maginet like normal people?!”

She grumbled, but knowing two Demon Lords were involved, she personally set off for Evernight City.

If this continued, her best couriers would collapse on the road—and the constant traffic raised interception risks.

Three days later, Anguist stormed into Evernight’s council hall.

Vivian greeted her with a bright smile.

“Lady Anguist! Did Mordred send another letter? Did he finally agree to send the lava boars?”

Anguist rolled her eyes so hard it was audible and slammed a thick stack onto the stone table.

“Lady Vivian!”

“Have you even read what you two have been writing?!”

“From cooperation terms to grilled monster meat, from vein surveys to child-rearing tips!”

“Is this diplomacy or old gossips catching up?!”

Vivian scratched her nose, embarrassed.

“Uh… we got a little carried away.”

“Mordred’s surprisingly fun to bicker with. It’s great stress relief.”

“Stress relief?!”

Anguist nearly laughed from sheer fury.

“Our riders race day and night between Evernight and Ash Barrier, braving wind, sun, and Rem’s spies—”

“—just so you two can debate whose jerky tastes better?!”

“Your negotiation efficiency is lower than children playing with blocks!”

Lucia hid a snicker behind her hand.

Vivian’s cheeks heated.

“Sorry, sorry! My fault—I lost track.”

“No more nonsense, promise. Only serious business from now on.”

“You’d better.”

Anguist lifted her chin proudly.

“We’re a trading chamber, not your personal pen-pal service.”

“Keep this up and I’ll start charging by the word!”

“No no no!”

Vivian waved frantically.

“I swear—no more chit-chat!”

Satisfied, Anguist nodded and left.

After seeing her off, Vivian looked at the pile of letters and smiled helplessly.

These weeks of mutual roasting had genuinely lightened her load and given her deep insight into Ash Barrier.

But she knew playtime was over.

The real negotiations had to resume.

For now, though—best to “cool” Mordred a little.

And give Anguist a break.

So Vivian decided not to reply.

Meanwhile, in Ash Barrier.

Three days passed without a letter.

Mordred suddenly felt oddly restless.