MONSTER EIGHT - MALICIEUX

Lord Malicieux gestured to his manservant to twist the mirror a little, then he stretched his neck back and adjusted his doublet. It was a fine thing, made in Caselfella by a true artisan, and covered in fine brocade work.

Nothing too flowery, nor anything too loud in its brilliance. He was an older gentleman, not a young peacock. He had no need for bright colours, and in a place such as this, they might well be to his detriment.

It was a garment he had carefully chosen in his Nafpraki estates and that he had brought all the way here.

It felt... wrong, to wear something so refined in a place such as this.

“You look well, sir,” his manservant said. The man tried to hide his nervousness, and did a poor job of it.

“It will have to do,” he said. “Do you have the letter?”

The manservant nodded, then patted a satchel upon the bench next to him. “I do. It will be given to your ladyship should the... unfortunate happen. I swear it.”

Malicieux nodded. “Do so,” he said before opening the coach's door.

He had seen the Land of Monsters from within the carriage. Now he was seeing it unfiltered by glass.

A blackened land--fitting, he supposed--with leagues of grassless fields and torn, rocky surfaces. Crevices hinted at great destructive magics being unleashed decades ago. Now they were the homes of soul pools, where monsters were even now crawling out into the light of day.

He felt as though it should have been thundering, perhaps with a cold wind and blistering rain. Instead, the sky was clear, the sun was bright, and the weather fair.

It had taken him three weeks of travel to arrive here. First a coach from his estates to Vizeda, then two days of waiting and travelling to Blajón by ship. The rest of the time was spent on the cobbled roads of the Kingdom of Héroe until he reached Santafaria.

He expected that it would be difficult to hire a coach from there, one to bring him to the Land of Monsters. He was prepared to stoop so low as to steal one from some merchant to make the trip, but it seemed as though trips to the Dark Goddess’ abode were... perhaps not common, but not entirely alien.

A carriage with her symbol upon it, the Dark Dragon, would pass unmolested to and from Santafaria.

An interesting detail, one that seemed to irk the priests of Héroe and Acacia, but the people of the city didn’t seem to care. It was a sign, to Lord Malicieux, that the Dark Goddess’ reach went farther than the clergy said.

He took a deep breath, and settled his nerves. He was a practitioner of Spark magic, once a devout servant of the God of Surprises. Now... he chose not to dwell on that. If he was lucky, perhaps there wouldn’t be any surprises to come in the next few hours.

The Dark God’s castle was unlike any godly abode he had seen, though his experience with those was limited. The God of Surprises had none, of course, but a few minor gods had estates and humble homes across the world, and he had once allowed his curiosity to bring him near them.

Humble would not describe the dark towers and jagged stone battlements of the Castillo De’la Sombra. It was a place of legend, the site where many battles had ended, and where great heroes had fallen trying to breach the gates.

Those gates were open now, welcoming him in.

By their side, still as statues, were two monsters. Banes, both of them. Strong enough to give cities reason to worry. Perhaps it was not surprising that there were two guarding the front doors.

A smaller monster, mouse-like and nearly timid, stepped up to him and bowed, then gestured back into the castle.

“Lead me,” he said, his voice even and calm. He funnelled Surprise through his core; wasteful, but it would prevent him from being taken entirely off guard. He wished he could use Loathing as well, but he dared not risk it here, not in her domain.

The castle’s interior was bare and utilitarian. There were few statues, and few decorations, and all of those present seemed to be there to hide creatures in the darkness they cast.

The place would be a nightmare to fight in, he realized as he noticed small passages leading off to the sides, some with doors difficult to distinguish from the walls.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The mouse-like monster walked at an even, unhurried pace, and soon they were climbing a wide staircase up one floor. His attention was wavering, focusing on what he would say, and how he would say it.

He did not fool himself into thinking that this would be a meeting between equals. He had certain things he wanted, and in exchange, he would give more than their worth to the Dark Goddess.

He was so focused that he initially missed the sounds of fighting, it wasn’t until he heard a heavy grunt that he started to pay more attention.

The mouse monster was still walking at the same pace, which wouldn’t give him a lot of time to see anything, even if it was a relaxed walk. Still, they crossed a pair of large doors, both opening into a nearly empty room.

Within, a monster with long arms and a distinct lack of natural weapons was sparring with... a girl? A child wearing long robes and a hood upon her head.

He wondered what a child was doing here. A girl, no less. An urchin, perhaps? Maybe the Dark Goddess had servants within her castle, though why she would need men as well as her monsters, he did not know.

He inspected her.

[Valeria – Touched by the Dark One]

Touched by the Dark One

A shiver crawled down Lord Malicieux’s spine. For someone to earn that title... no, perhaps he was thinking too far. Some titles were very literal. Perhaps the Dark Goddess had literally poked the child. No family name, so not a noble, though she was well dressed. No classes, despite seeming to be in her younger teens, perhaps as old as thirteen. Strange. Most would have a class by then. Those training for battle, or of noble birth, might well have two.

He watched the child fling magic ahead of her only for the monster to weave out of its way and hit her in the chest. She stumbled back, aura sparking to deflect the blow. And in doing so, her hood fell back.

A gasp may have escaped him, had he not spent his Surprise already.

Pale skin, lined with blue veins, eyes that were entirely dark.

He walked fast to keep up with the monster. He was not here to question what he saw.

His prayers had been answered, and now he was here.

Lord Malicieux followed the little monster before him into what was very obviously a throne room. Grand windows of stained glass cast purple and deep blue light across the hall, enough light to see everything, but not so much that the throne at the end of the room was properly illuminated.

Walking down the middle, he idly noted that the mouse-monster split away and scurried off to the shadows, leaving him alone. It wasn’t an issue, this was the moment he had prepared for.

He reached the middle of the room, then dropped to one knee, head bowed and one arm tucked into the small of his back. He wished that he had dared to enter armed. A hand on a pommel always felt more natural.

“Rise.”

He stood. Could he read into that? Being asked to rise so soon? Perhaps, perhaps not. This place was far from the courts; different rules applied.

For the first time, he laid eyes upon the Goddess of Darkness.

In all the paintings she was a malevolent thing. Vaguely feminine, in the way a truly old crone was feminine. Always horrific and monster-like.

Above him, reclining on a seat of cold stone, was a regal woman, with high cheeks and a delicate nose, purple lips and veins that thrummed with magic. Purple, the royal colour; the colour of the deepest magics.

He cursed himself for his stupidity.

He had just reminded himself that this wasn’t the royal court. There was no question about power in the hands of a woman here. The shape the creature before him took was meaningless. A monster or a beauty, it did not matter. She was a god first.

“My goddess--”

“No,” she said, the word sharp and fast. “I am not. Not yet. But perhaps I can make some use of you, and likewise, you may find some good in serving me.”

He swallowed, but negotiating was something he was familiar with. And so, in their own way, they began to dance.

***