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A Familiar Cat
Chapter 38: A Devil's Dilemma

Chapter 38: A Devil's Dilemma

The mail was mostly junk and such coming through the mail slot, nothing really worth checking over or discussing, so he threw it all to the bin and made a few notes of places to visit later, either that day or tomorrow. He was in no genuine rush, but he didn't want to leave anything waiting around where trouble could find it in the open.

"And here we go, a bit of steak for us both." Miss Pauline cheerfully called as she placed the pan on the table, and they carved up the thing between each other.

He tried not to flinch when she prayed over the meal, but it wasn't anything targeted, though it would give him indigestion later. He was still a demon in a borrowed body, after all. Just glad it wasn't a priest leading a full congregation in synchronized prayer. That would be like a human walking into an open flame. This was closer to eating something he shouldn't have, like a mild allergy.

He finished quickly and then stood to excuse himself. Fully intending to walk off, the blessed steak churning inside his stomach, but he didn't hire Miss Pauline for her cooking.

He left her to continue her work of cleaning the house while he attended to some business in the trade square. The shares he'd bought did promise him a share of profits, but more was always better.

The walk wasn't long, but it was growing late. He checked his pocket watch and grumbled a little. 3:42, not a great time to start. He wouldn't have much time to catch up, but still had time to make a quick handful of coins, or set up his next run.

But being a demon, it only seemed right to capitalize on the short-term gains. So he'd try to make a quick bit of money before the gathered traders dispersed.

He was passing a dim alleyway on his way to the trading square, like a bit of the dark nights that refused to leave when sunlight made its self known. A channel of black, like a crack between moments peering into nothingness, and like a hand from that great beyond, something emerged from that pitchblende darkness to lay a swift and heavy hand on the Demon as he walked by.

"Darwin Von Helmut." A stern voice called. He turned to find an official tan uniform wrapped around a rather stern looking man.

"Yes Officer? Can I help you?" He fired back, smooth as can be. But he was already gritting his teeth. The uniformed man balked a second.

"Its Watchman, sir. I need you to come with me. I have a notice for your detainment."

The demon sighed aloud and groaned internally, likely someone else his gracious host had pissed off in some manner. If this kept up, he would soon become an intimate scholar of the legal system. A waste of time in certain accounts.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Fine, I'm sure this will be quick, I still have plans for today." the Demon replied, better to face the trouble now rather than letting it sneak up on him and bite him in the ass. A bit late for that notion, though.

Dealing with the Law has alwalys been needlessly complicated, but not painful. So long as he didn't physically resist. But that doesn't mean folding over.

"Is they anything I should know before we leave for the station Watchman?"

The man stuttered in his step for a second before resuming, "Uh, no sir. We just have a few um, complaints to settle with if you don't mind."

The Devil's interests were peaked. "Any specifics? I'd be surprised if the neighbors are upset with the noise I make." The guard turned stiffly, almost like an extended flinch.

"No, just a few outstanding debts and-"

"From where? To whom do I owe money?!" the Devil was more than annoyed now. This was a serious matter. Nulla Fides, after all, is the Second motto of Hell.

"I believe it stems from, uh, a few restaurant debts and-" The watchman started, but the Devil outpaced him, now burning with an indignant will. Far beyond annoyance, he was liable to combust in the streets.

"Watchman, show me too them. I want to be rid of these debtors by the end of Day!" He shouted, dashing off towards the main Guardhouse for the Watch.

The greatest sin one can make in life, according to a demon, Is to break a contract or a promise. In Hell, the greatest Sin you can perform, and one that will get you instantly demoted to hanging as a set of curtain shades, is refusing to pay the tab.

A cultural taboo that arose, mostly out of the fact Demons, in this case, consume souls. Not Human souls, those are too useful, but sometimes it can't be helped. Souls are used as construction material in building new Demonic entities, others for their intellect or cunning. But Demons still must eat something to stay alive and to grow stronger, though, maybe not in the traditional sense of consumption.

It's more or less a merging of spiritual masses, the dominate mass overrides the essence of the lesser and then join together as new mass. Containing the experiences of both, but with the ideology and thinking of the dominate form. Like making a copy of a piece of fine art, the materials aren't the same, but the scene they portray is.

So when a Demon offers another Demon a "meal" often it's a prelude to sealing a contract between the two, or perhaps if the occasion calls for it, a Demon will give up a portion of themselves to serve as a meal, a sign of submission to a superior and a request to join them. To leave without paying is to cast away not only excellent resources, but liable to break all pretenses of trust between the parties involved.

It's not just the Chef you angered. It's Nulla Fide, No Credit.

If you were going to take the time to entreat yourself or another to a meal in Hell, you payed the damn bill. Otherwise, You place yourself in the awkward position of being unfit for service, Merely Asking for the Chef to take your order is a humbling affair, Stiffing the Bill afterwards. Is liable to piss off some of the Greater Demons of Hell. The kind that can afford to open restaurants in Hell.

The Really scary ones.

That was the first thing that flew through his mind, along with a ragged line of curses upon Darwin for committing such a vile offense in his inhuman eyes. Making oaths on what he would do after Darwin finally died and passed into his domain of power.

Most of them involved feeding him raw molten silver in some degree. Much like Moses feeding gold to the traitors of Isreal. The Classics never go out of style.

But first he'd have to deal with this lunacy.