The Black House, Cabinet Meeting Room

  Another emergency meeting was being held, this time to respond to the newly announced Celeste–Elvandar alliance. The room was occupied by Monny, Stan, Mo, and—miraculously—Belphy.

  Monny stood at the head of the table, arms folded, face carved from pure accountant stone.

  “I assume you all have received the memo from my office,” Monny said flatly. “The Celeste–Elvandar alliance has officially named themselves the Radiant Concordat. Several kingdoms have already applied to join them.”

  He tapped the table once, hard.

  “We need to entice other kingdoms to be more interested in joining our alliance—The Pentagram Economic, Naval and Industrial Security—instead of theirs.”

  “Ehm.”

  Stan cut in immediately, leaning forward. “And I assume you all also received my memo. Dwargonia has requested that our alliance—The Gunroad Syndicate—conduct joint exercises with them and Ravendawn.”

  He shrugged casually.

  “A nice show of force. Good optics. Might convince undecided kingdoms.”

  The air suddenly felt colder.

  This meeting had exactly one agenda.

  And it was killing them slowly.

  The name of their new alliance.

  Stan and Monny stared at each other across the table like rival generals.

  Mo, meanwhile, looked like a man watching a soap opera that he didn’t like.

  “What a lame-ass name.”

  Belphy’s voice suddenly sliced through the tension like a knife.

  Everyone turned to him.

  “I told you guys,” Belphy continued, tapping the table with his finger, “the name should be The Ironstorm League. I even texted it. With exclamation marks.”

  Monny narrowed his eyes. “Hmph! It’s very rare for you to attend a meeting.”

  Stan added, without missing a beat, “Don’t you have a movie to make? Or a statue to sculpt? Or scheming another PR nonsense?”

  “Tch.” Belphy waved them off. “I came to save us from naming our alliance like a boring bank product.”

  “What?!” Stan snapped. “The Gunroad Syndicate is not boring! It’s terrifying!”

  “Yes,” Belphy nodded thoughtfully, “if you’re trying to start a bandit organization that robs travelers and sells their shoes.”

  “Kukuku…” Monny chuckled. “Belphy has a point. That’s why The Pentagram Economic, Naval and Industrial Security is better. It’s reassuring. Especially to investors.”

  Belphy whipped around instantly.

  “Did you even check what the acronym would be?! Go ahead if you want to repeat Mo's agency!”

  "Hey..." Mo's complained softly.

  Monny froze.

  Stan let out a short, traitorous, “Pfft.”

  Belphy slammed his hand on the table. “The Ironstorm League. That’s it. Simple. Memorable. Badass.”

  “And childish!” Stan and Monny replied in perfect unison.

  The room exploded into overlapping arguments immediately.

  Mo rubbed his face slowly with both hands.

  “What am I even doing here…” he sighed.

  Levi’s voice suddenly chimed in cheerfully through the intercom. “Hahaha! Please inform me when the name has been decided, gentlemen,”

  ---

  Bashington DC, Dwargonia Embassy

  The new Dwargonia Embassy was in a state of controlled chaos.

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  Murican moving crews and dwarf embassy staff moved in opposite directions at all times, somehow never colliding, all while carrying furniture, crates, documents, and other objects. Trucks outside kept unloading more boxes.

  This was moving day.

  “Well,” Levi said, turning off his phone and slipping it into his pocket, “I guess we still have to wait a little longer before finalizing the alliance document.”

  “I thought when Dwargonia and Ravendawn agreed to let Murica choose the name, it would make the process faster,” Vixen said.

  The former Moth Pole guard was seated comfortably on the guest room sofa, eyes glued to a Murican iPad he was still learning to trust.

  Across from him, Levi sat politely, while around them demon helpers and dwarf staff crossed the room endlessly, carrying furniture like ants.

  “Well,” Levi replied with a gentle smile, “democracy is a beautiful thing.”

  He paused.

  “It’s just never been fast.”

  “Seriously, Vixen?” Cupid’s voice snapped as she passed the guest room door, arms loaded with boxes of documents. “We’re working like slaves and you’re just sitting there lounging?”

  Behind her, Dancer and Comet followed, both equally buried under stacks of paper.

  “Because I’m the ambassador’s secretary,” Vixen replied dryly without looking up from his screen. “And you are ordinary staff. Rank and privilege.”

  “Why can’t I be the secretary?” Dancer complained.

  “Because you can’t read,” Comet replied immediately.

  The three dwarfs disappeared down the hall, still bickering loudly enough to echo.

  Levi smiled politely and waited for the noise to fade.

  “By the way,” Levi asked, “is Ambassador Cinderclaws done with his examination?”

  “Maybe,” Vixen replied casually. “He’s been trying to examine everything since we landed in Murica.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  The heavy footsteps were unmistakable.

  Cinderclaws burst into the guest room, eyes shining, tool belt jingling with screwdrivers and devices no one had approved.

  “Hohoho! Demon! You were not lying!” he shouted. “There really is no ice crystal or caged snow fairy inside that cold cupboard you call a ‘fridge’!”

  “Yes, Mr. Ambassador,” Levi said calmly. “We believe paying fairies hourly wages would be too expensive.”

  Cinderclaws nodded seriously, absorbing this economic wisdom.

  Then his eyes locked onto something else.

  A moving crew was carrying a massive flatscreen TV across the hall.

  “What was that?!” Cinderclaws pointed like a child.

  “That’s a television,” Levi explained. “A device that shows visual recordings from other places. Recorded or real time.”

  “Like a mana-comm? With a size that thin?!” Cinderclaws gasped. “Give me that! I must examine it!”

  He immediately chased after the crew, shouting apologies and instructions at the same time, and vanished down the hall.

  Levi watched him go, smiling.

  “…Should I order a new fridge and television for your embassy?” he asked with a polite smile.

  Vixen exhaled slowly. “Please do, Mr. Minister. And I’m terribly sorry for wasting your time.”

  “No problem,” Levi replied easily. “I have nothing else scheduled for the rest of the day anyway.”

  He paused, then added politely, “Besides, I should also apologize. Our Prime Minister had to suddenly cancel today’s meeting with Ambassador Cinderclaws.”

  “Oh, right,” Vixen said. “What happened? The memo only said it was a family issue.”

  “That’s correct,” Levi replied cheerfully. “Our Chief of Staff—who also happens to be the Prime Minister’s wife—just found out she’s pregnant.”

  “SHE’S WHAT?!”

  The shout came from everywhere.

  Vixen.

  Cinderclaws.

  Dancer.

  Cupid.

  Comet.

  They all leaned into the guest room at once from different doors and angles.

  Levi blinked.

  “…Hm?” he tilted his head.

  ---

  Bashington DC, CDC

  Inside Lich’s office, Solo sat across from the lich himself. Between them, Lich’s skeletal nurse was methodically handing bottles to Solo’s Secret Service, who were already struggling to hold the growing pile.

  “Vitamin D… demonic fish oil… vitamin B12… and most importantly, folic acid,” Lich muttered while scanning the prescription.

  “Yep. That’s all.”

  He folded the paper neatly.

  The nurse placed the final bottle on top of the mountain of supplements. The agents nearly lost balance but managed to steady it. Without a word, the Secret Service retreated from the room.

  “So,” Lich said, leaning back slightly, “how is Lilith?”

  “She’s… good,” Solo replied, hesitating. “Say, do you have something that could help her… emotions?”

  Lich tilted his skull. “Hm? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not that I’m complaining about her being pregnant. Not at all,” Solo said carefully. “But I thought her emotions would be… less dangerous after we knew the reason.”

  “I don’t see anything wrong with it,” Lich replied calmly. “It’s perfectly normal.”

  “I might be new to this,” Solo said, “but I don’t think it’s normal for her to be lovey-dovey one minute and trying to kill me the next.”

  Lich sighed, patient. “It’s natural, Solo. Very natural. As natural as—”

  He paused, thinking.

  “Uh… what’s the name of that female arthropod that kills the male and eats him after mating?” Lich asked casually.

  “It could be a black widow spider or a praying mantis, doctor,” the nurse answered without hesitation.

  “See?” He leaned back, satisfied.. “Completely natural. And nutritious for the fetus too.”

  Solo stared at him, dumbfounded.

  ---

  Inside Solo’s Car

  The convoy rolled away from the CDC, black vehicles slicing through the city toward the Black House.

  Inside the center limo, The Beast, Solo sat alone, staring out the tinted window.

  he thought.

  He exhaled slowly.

  Especially when I also need to think about the Celeste–Elvandar situation. How the hell can I run a government when my wife is seducing me and trying to kill me at the same time?

  Solo pinched the bridge of his nose. There were too many things happening at once, all stacked together with no mercy.

  But damn, her seducing is becoming way more dangerous now. Demon Queen form with lingerie like this morning? Sheesh, that’s something. Hmmm, can I even do her in that form? She always refused to experiment before. But since she transforms more regularly now… maybe…

  Solo sank deeper into the seat, one hand covering his mouth, fingers curled — thinking.

  Seriously thinking.

  And just like every male species, even with the world on fire and their life on the line, their priorities always found a way to crawl back to that one specific subject.

  Attention, loyal sliding doors of this story!