The Demon of The North-Chapter 144 - 143. Rothschild’s Authority

Valdemar’s grin stretched too wide as he hurried down the steps, quickly opening the door and meeting with his sister right in front of the mansion’s door. "Liselotte," he called, spreading his arms as though welcoming a favored guest. "You came just in time. I told them—I told everyone—I’ve got it under control."

The words rang hollow the moment they left his mouth. "I know you’re well." His smile widened, as if nothing had changed.

Once, that face had meant something to her. It had carried a semblance of brotherly affection, a sense of safety Liselotte had trusted without question. Valdemar had been the brother who shielded her, indulged her whims, and stood at her side when she was younger. Back then, she had believed his kindness was real.

That illusion shattered the moment she became the empress consort of the Erengard Empire. Only then did Valdemar’s intentions reveal themselves fully. His affection came with requests. His concern came with demands.

One favor turned into another, and another after that, until she realized he saw her position not as something to protect, but something to exploit. Through her name and influence, he fed his gambling addiction, racking up debts he never intended to repay himself.

He had never truly cared about her well-being. Never cared about her as his sister. To him, she was just another omega, valuable, tradable, something to be leveraged or sold to the highest bidder if it suited him.

When she needed him most, when she was trapped and desperate, he hadn’t even tried to help. He hadn’t asked questions. He hadn’t searched. He hadn’t cared.

If Vivianne hadn’t stepped in, Liselotte knew exactly how that story would have ended. She would have been another omega dead by Dietrich’s hands. The sister she despised turned out to be the one who saved her.

Now, staring at Valdemar’s smiling face, disgust churned in her stomach. Every memory rearranged itself into something ugly, something false. In that moment, she finally understood Vivianne’s bitterness, her anger, and her refusal to forgive. And with that understanding came guilt, for all the years Liselotte spent her time hating her.

Liselotte stopped at the foot of the steps, not returning his smile, not even inclining her head. Her gaze moved past him instead, seeing everyone running down to see her standing in the mansion’s door, finally back. Behind her, Leonhart walks closer to support her, his presence alone enough to make several vassals stiffen.

Mara, standing right next to Leonhart, says nothing and waits. The omega in front of her might not be the one she served, but she is still the previous empress consort and the current empress’s sister. And Vivianne already told her to just listen to what Liselotte wants; she was sure that Liselotte will not be stupid this time.

And Mara listened to the empress’s wish. As she stood in silence, the elite Borgia and the beastmen warriors followed suit, their sheer size and predatory stillness draining what little color remained from the onlookers’ faces. Borgia knights took their positions without a word, a living wall of steel and intent.

"You left," Liselotte said at last, her voice calm, too calm. "You left the port to burn. You left your people."

Valdemar laughed weakly. "That’s an exaggeration. I withdrew to assess the situation. A tactical decision. Someone had to think clearly."

"Clearly?" Genevieve’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

She had stepped closer to the doorway, her presence instantly freezing the air. "You ran. You hid. And you invited this disaster into our lands without consent. I was a fool to ever agree with your decision."

"We didn’t know anything about them!" Valdemar shouted back, panic bleeding through his anger. "And you agreed with me!"

"You violated the Emperor’s decree," Liselotte snapped, her voice cracking like a whip as she stepped forward. "And you—" her gaze turned to Genevieve, burning with accusation, "—as his mother, you should have known better!"

"He said—" Genevieve started, her voice faltering for the first time.

Valdemar spun toward her, his face flushing red, desperation twisting his features. "You would have done the same if you understood trade, if you understood opportunity—"

"Opportunity?" Genevieve cut him off, her laughter cold and bitter. "You mistook arrogance for foresight and greed for wisdom. You sent an invitation into the dark without knowing what would answer."

"Enough." Liselotte raised a hand, and the room fell silent as if the air itself had been seized. She looked at her brother then, really looked at him, and whatever she saw there seemed to settle something in her chest. "You ignored the emperor’s decree. You summoned unknown horrors into imperial territory. You gambled with lives that were never yours to wager."

Valdemar opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Outside, a distant scream echoed up from the port, followed by the dull crash of something heavy being torn apart. Every noble present flinched. Leonhart’s hand tightened on the hilt of his weapon, though he did not move.

"This," Liselotte continued softly, "is no longer a family matter. You didn’t just shame House Rothschild. You endangered the empire."

Her gaze shifted briefly to Genevieve, then returned to Valdemar, steady and unyielding. "Give me full authority over House Rothschild," Liselotte said. "Grant me the power to govern it."

Valdemar scoffed immediately. "You’re an omega. You can’t."

The words came too quickly and too reflexively, and in that instant it became painfully clear what truly mattered to him. Not her safety. Not the time she had been gone. Not sure whether she had survived at all. Status mattered more. Control mattered more.

"I can," Liselotte replied calmly.

"You’re an unmated, unmarked omega!" Valdemar shot back, his voice sharp with desperation. "You cannot."

She met his gaze without flinching, something cold and resolute settling into her expression. "Oh, but I am," Liselotte said. "Mated. Marked."

The room fell into stunned silence. Valdemar froze, the color draining from his face as the weight of her words sank in. His mouth opened, then closed, disbelief flickering across his features. Around them, the vassals exchanged uneasy glances, and even the elders stiffened, suddenly attentive.

The room fell into a stunned, suffocating silence. "Who? Who marked you?" Genevieve froze mid-step, her hands still half-raised as if she could somehow pull Liselotte back by force alone.

Her breath caught when the scent hit her, no longer neutral, no longer untouched. The unmistakable resonance of a completed bond pressed against her senses, deep and irrevocable. Her eyes widened, fury cracking through disbelief.

Before she could speak again, a shadow fell across Liselotte. Heavy footsteps sounded against the marble floor; the presence that entered the room was overwhelming, filling the space without a single word needing to be spoken.

A beastman stepped forward, his white fur gleaming like moonlight against snow, his leonine features calm yet terrifyingly composed. Scars traced his body like old battle hymns, and his golden eyes burned with a quiet dominance that made even the elders draw a sharp breath.

He wrapped an arm around Liselotte with practiced ease, pulling her against his chest, not possessive but absolute, as though the world itself had already acknowledged the truth. "She’s my mate," Leonhart said.

The words struck hard; Valdemar staggered back a step, his face draining of color. "A beastman?" he spat, panic bleeding through his outrage. "You—you bonded yourself to a beastman?!"

Leonhart’s gaze shifted to him then, slow and lethal. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Watch your tone," he said calmly. "You are addressing the mate of an alpha of the Beastfolk, the grand duke of Fenclade, and envoy of the Borgia Empire."

Valdemar swallowed. Genevieve’s lips trembled, rage and calculation warring behind her eyes. "Liselotte... You don’t understand what this means," she said sharply. "Your status, your future—"

"I understand perfectly," Liselotte replied, lifting her chin. Her voice didn’t waver. "For the first time in my life, I chose for myself. Not for House Rothschild. Not for political gain. Not to be sold."

Her gaze hardened as it settled on Valdemar. "And unlike you, Leonhart didn’t hide when blood was spilled. He didn’t gamble lives for coin. He came when the empire called."

Leonhart tightened his hold just slightly, a silent affirmation.

"I am mated," Liselotte continued. "Marked. Protected. And recognized by the emperor herself. So yes—" she turned back to Valdemar, eyes cold and resolute, "—I can take control of Rothschild. Now give me the authority."