It was an unusually calm and dark night, missing the salty sea breeze that usually helped cleanse the stench of the slums. Baal took great care as he navigated the labyrinthine streets and alleyways, blending with the long shadows cast between the few and far between working streetlamps.
As the branch manager, it would not do for people to notice him personally travelling through the slums.
Nothing kills one’s reputation like a rumor, especially one that could make seemingly limitless accusations, no matter the actual truth of the matter.
Granted, if anyone knew the actual truth of most things he dealt with, he would wish they were spreading baseless or wild rumors instead. While controlling the general flow of information is not too hard, there comes a certain point where it would be impossible as well. Especially if the source is somewhere completely unexpected, which is precisely why he took extra care when travelling anywhere one wouldn’t expect an individual of repute or importance to go.
However, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. When the Lord calls for you, you come.
Baal’s shadow flitted seamlessly through the shadows and past the assorted denizens milling through the streets. It was still early enough in the night that the street walkers were just starting to come out, while many of the day laborers were hustling in to the nearest taverns or back to their shacks.
Before long, he finally reached the Skeever and the Bear, the lantern hanging off its large sign illuminated the quieter street with a brightness uncharacteristic of the rest of the slums, while beams of warm light shone out from its barred windows and a raucous laughter echoed into the street.
He hesitated by the street corner, just outside the reach of the light from the Inn and tavern, his hands trembling slightly before he clenched his fists.
This… is where he lives? But why would he want me to come to an inn full of people? Why would he live in an inn? Even the upper floor seems occupied… this place… it feels too normal?
His thoughts were quickly cut off with a loud bang, as the door to the Skeever and the Bear flung open and a large, burly, red-faced man came flying out of it and tumbled clumsily into the street!
“YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST COME TO OUR INN, RIP MY SLEEVE, AND NOT PAY ME BACK? I JUST GOT THIS DRESS TODAY! TO-DAY! I CAN’T EVEN REPLACE IT AGAIN UNTIL NEXT WEEK!”
Baal immediately recognized the little girl in her signature purple dress as she stormed out of the door with a fork in hand, almost charging towards the man. With a yelp, he staggered to his feet and attempted to dash away down the road, crashing into some crates as he put some distance between himself and Diane. She seemed content enough to stop and glare.
Once he thought he reached a safe distance, he turned around and screamed back: “Fukin’ ‘Ell, I don’t need ta waste my coin in a shit hole served by monsters pretendin’ ta be girls!”
A fresh howl of laughter burst from the inn, as a dozen faces from various races popped up in the windows. From amidst the crowd, someone loudly shouted “AHHH SHIT, HE’S DONE IT NOW!”
With a screech, Diane loosed the fork from her hand, which blew right past the drunks face before catching the hanging sign of an abandoned building and pinning it to the wall further down the street.
The drunk man blinked slowly for a minute, as his brain struggled to catch up.
“Damn bitch! Yer gonna regret that one-a dees ‘ere days!” The drunkard bellowed his slurred speech as best he could, while running off again, trying to desperately cover up his freshly moistened pants.
Diane stormed back through the door, slamming it shut behind her, as the crowd disappeared from the windows, drunk and laughing up a storm.
That is definitely her. Where she goes, the Lord is definitely not far. He has to be here… I… can’t keep him waiting. Perhaps, once I am seen here… I could just excuse it as visiting one of our promising guild members? Even one as astute as Ivar wouldn’t be able to pry too far, although he would already recognize them from the goblin subjugation mission.
Baal took a deep breath before he approached the door.
Somewhere like this… being too careful itself would itself come off as too suspicious. I may as well play along as a normal patron anyways, the risk of anyone else here recognizing me should be low enough.
One more deep breath in, one more deep breath out. Baal steeled his gaze forward, and boldly opened the door and strode in to the Skeever and the Bear, and immediately froze. His vision momentarily felt like it had split, and his brain felt a very strange sensation running along it. He could barely hear the door shut behind him, and after a quick blink, he realized the inn was silent and empty except for a single boy, quietly cleaning a large pewter mug with an incredibly unnerving grin on his face.
With the next blink, he felt an extremely disconcerting feeling, as he both saw the inn full of people, and simultaneously completely empty.
“It will be much easier for you if you either pick a side to see, or let each eye see a different side. Your mind should be able to handle that much. Regardless, I have been waiting for you, Baal. I do hope your little contract is alright?”
Thistleman’s overtly pleasant tone was utterly at odds with the sheer venom bursting from his face. Baal’s vision began to split between each of his eyes, on one hand he could see Lord Dagon laughing and passing Diane a large tray laden with food. In the other, all the lights in the inn flickered and receded behind an oppressive darkness emanating from someone who could hardly be conceived to be the same person.
Fuck today! Just… fuck! I knew Eric seemed too quiet after I got back! I should have pressed him about it, instead of rushing off after he told me Thistleman wanted to speak with me!
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Baal closed his eyes as he dropped onto one knee and deeply bowed his head. At the very least, he was fairly certain nobody would see him here. On top of whatever the Lord wanted to discuss with him, he would clearly first need to address whatever offense Eric had done…
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“My Lord…” Baal began, his head down and eyes closed as he attempted to clear his disorientation.
“Allow me to explain…”
“No need.” Baal’s head shot up the moment Dagon cut him off, as Dagon pointed at him with two fingers and beckoned with a single motion. “Come.”
Baal felt as if he was grabbed by some invisible force and ripped forward at incredible speed, his body passed harmlessly through the patrons he could see out of his left eye and not one of them reacted as if anything strange had happened at all! He came to a sudden stop, face-to-face with his master.
“Rather than waste time playing with words, I will just have you show me what I want to know.” Dagon smiled wide as elements of his human façade morphed, his teeth sharpening and his pupils narrowing into slivers before Baal’s eyes. Baal attempted to open his mouth, as wordless air gasped out and he stared into the endless depths of darkness! The wood of the inn groaned as shadow seemed to consume everything! The void crawled and consumed everything around him, and in it he felt his memories pouring out like a river of paint across a canvas. His meetings with the council, his conversations with Eric, his thoughts and fears… everything!
As quickly as it began, it ended. Baal slumped down like a bag of wet sand onto one of the bar stools, sweat dripping profusely from his body as he leaned over the counter for support, breathing heavily.
After a long moment of silence, Dagon began to move again, grabbing a large pint and filling it to the brim with frothing ale.
“Everything you are” he spoke slowly, emphasizing every point with a stop.
“Everything you were” he placed the mug in front of Baal, before lifting up his chin to look deeply into the shaken demon’s eyes.
“And everything you ever will be, comes from me. My will is all that matters, all else is a secondary concern. Do you understand?” Sendrien spoke softly, almost a whisper at this point. Baal nodded, still unable to speak.
“Good. Then on to business, ah, and please have a drink. It will help.” Dagon laughed as Baal chugged his pint.
“It appears some of my suspicions were correct. There is something wrong with this city, and it is likely the same thing that is wrong with this country as a whole. The humans here are not behaving as one would expect.”
“Yes, My Lord. They do not appear to be acting in their own best interests. However, I don’t know…”
“Yes, yes, I already know you don’t know why.” Dagon snapped, and the proud branch manager shrunk back in to his chair.
“Now then, allow me to put the pieces I see together with yours. First, we have the destruction of Kurstwood. A human border town in a precarious location, destroyed by demons. However, almost no bodies were left behind. The lack of evidence and method of destruction might lead one to assume it was raided by one of the demihuman tribes in the wilderness, if not for the fact we found a demon there ourselves.” Sendrien lifted a single finger to emphasize his initial point.
“Second, we have a magical plague showing up practically out of nowhere and rapidly spreading, yet it has managed to spread so effectively that we are only finding out about it now that it has reached such a critical tipping point? What kind of malady operates in such a targeted fashion? Even magical maladies don’t spread that way, and they ravage indiscriminately and wildly. This is far too targeted, too efficient. It even escaped your eyes.”
Baal swallowed, as Dagon continued.
“Finally, the behavior of the city and the Kingdom. The level of division across the Kingdom is almost too perfect, with a civil war enflamed at an almost engineered speed! A single small match has unleashed devastation across this country, and magically, neither side is able to ascertain any kind of advantage? Each step by one side is quickly undone and matched by the other? Just from the messenger’s reports on the war and gossip from the refugees, it is clear it will not resolve for a long time.” Dagon took Baal’s empty mug, and began to refill it as he spoke.
“Then there is Njord, which, in spite of my… rather obvious display, one which could essentially amount to a declaration, has seemingly chosen to try and bury the events in question? Some of the humans are behaving as expected, but the rot runs deep… planted, cultivated and festering. A very familiar rot, the kind leveraged by the most pathetic of my kin.” Dagon sneered in disgust, as Baal quietly contemplated, his eyes darting across the surface of the counter, etching out imagined scenarios.
“My Lord, then… this can only mean that the Daemon Kingdom to the North has fallen… but why would Carinthus move against them when they haven’t conquered the rest of Ebenheim?”
“I can think of two just from my experience alone. First, this world’s Demon Lord is aware enough to recognize that when he starts to take action, the world will likely unify to oppose him. Such is the record in history for each Demon Lord that preceded him, and such was the action of the Nations from Americia against me. Second… is that he knows he will win.”
“Even if he takes action here, The Empire will not sit quietly by while their neighbor is invaded by Demons! Nor will the city states refuse to take action! Unless… ” Baal’s eyes opened wide.
“He already has a plan in motion to constrain their actions. Carinthus’ methods are truly cowardly, however… I should applaud that child for having a modicum of cunning. It… almost reminds me… of my dear brother…” Dagon’s muscles tensed, and his smile took on a grisly hue and the entire structure groaned again under the weight of a malignant laugh, before calming down again.
“There isn’t much time until this city is annihilated, Baal. Courtesy of mistaken circumstance, they have revealed their hand early, otherwise death would have already befallen everyone else here. I have a little errand I must run back on Americia tomorrow, but I will return before nightfall. There should be enough time for that at least.”
“Understood, my Lord. What should I do about the coming invasion?”
Sendrien mulled the question for a moment, before he began to unleash an unnatural, unnerving cackle that echoed throughout the room.
“I could hardly care what happens to most of the people here, and I am not interested in going out of my way to save any of them. However… it would be most disappointing if Carinthus managed to have his way without much resistance. It would be a lot more interesting if everyone had a taste of despair, no? I would love nothing less than a good show, perhaps with someone worthy to play my role! Someone grand who is unafraid to hide behind the shadows, and who can capture the imagination!” Dagon was halfway dancing across his imagined stage, his eyes distant as he imagined the chaotic scenes of war and he reminisced on the great heroes he once faced.
“Yes, my Lord! I may already have a few ideas…” Baal grinned wildly, his eyes alight with malevolent pleasure.
With their discussion finished, Baal hurried out of the Bear and the Skeever. Dagon eyed over to the corner of the room, where a tall, black-clad man quietly smoked his cigar. The man barely registered a hint of surprise the moment Baal exited the inn, immediately controlling his expression before glancing back at the illusory Thistleman operating perfectly behind the counter.
“In the face of absolute despair, I hope you won’t disappoint me! Rise, and show me the strength of your soul and your conviction!” Thistleman continued to laugh to himself for a little while in the solitude of his parallel break in reality. Slowly, he quieted down, and watched his contract as she navigated an unruly crowd that would have driven an ordinary girl to tears.
"Soon, my little Diane, you will be faced with the impossible wall of reality. What will you do? How will you face it? I have given you the pieces... but what price are you willing to pay to make your dreams come true?"