I’d gotten to wear the fancy golden chain on my horns again. According to Mona, it was a standard part of my formal outfit, and particularly vital considering I would be entertaining foreign visitors.
The rest of our clothing was simple enough—robes for Mona and a similar uniform as yesterday for myself. Everything was mostly black, of course, and I admit I had started to tire of the demons’ monotone style. Of course, this was the least of my problems, but it helped keep my mind off the more serious ones.
Mona and I entered the elevator alongside Ilmatar. He had to duck to fit his overly long horns through the doorway, and I must admit, his presence had put a damper on my mood. Though I didn’t feel any suspicion from him, I still needed to be careful.
Through the elevator’s window, I looked down at the gardens where we’d held the feast. Dappled by morning light from a sun that had risen barely high enough to shine within the temple walls, the trees and mushrooms looked beautiful.
Only now did I realize the garden had several levels off to the side, where stairs led down to deeper and darker areas. I imagined exploring the paths with Mona, of talking with her by spore-light. I pulled my eyes away, trying to put a pin in the fantasy. Going for a nice, leisurely walk would not be on Greg-Theryx’s agenda.
I watched the demons down below, their forms moving through the gardens, the temple gates, and along the bridge that led out to the city beyond. From here, they looked like tiny moving colors, and the city itself was like a model, built from clay. Had I enjoyed that in my past life? Building models? I felt I had. I wondered if my personality had persisted into my reincarnation, if, in thousands of small ways, I was still, essentially, myself.
But the elevator hadn’t moved, and I turned away from the window to see Mona and Ilmatar looking at me expectantly, Mona right next to me and Ilmatar standing respectfully on the other side of the car.
My eyes looked over the elevator buttons, panicking for a moment as I realized I wasn’t sure if we should be going to the “Temple Library”, or to the “Archives,” or even what the difference actually was between those two things.
As if she sensed my hesitation, Mona leaned past me and punched the button labeled “Archives,” turning as she did so so that her ass was even more prominently displayed in my direction. Ilmatar, very pointedly, cast his eyes to the ceiling during her whole maneuver, but I couldn’t help but watch her, especially now that I knew she did, in fact, desire my attention. Well, you certainly have it.
I realized that last night I had only seen her in the half-light, and this morning I mainly had seen her up close, so I hadn’t had a chance to just stare at her, to admire her from all angles. I wondered how she’d take it if I asked her to pose for me tonight.
After a brief lurch which made me imagine the elevator dropping thirteen floors to the ground, killing us all, the elevator began to descend safely and smoothly. It was time to start thinking with my head. It would be a shame if my ever-present horniness ended up getting us killed.
“Ilmatar,” I asked. “Our prisoner—any updates?”
“Darkstar has been standing guard personally,” he said. “She hasn’t spoken a word, so I’ve heard. In truth, my Lord, I’m not sure how much useful information we’ll be able to get out of her. Paladins are notoriously difficult to break. We might have to drop her in the chute and call it a day.”
The chute? Like, garbage chute? No matter how much I learned, there was always more. “I’ll be the judge of that,” I said. “She must know something. I wonder what her purpose was?”
“I’d assumed it was to kill you, Master,” Ilmatar said.
“No,” I said, thinking over the sequence of events from the previous night. I realized I should have told Mona about this, too, but had been, ahem, distracted. “She only attacked me after I realized something was wrong with her. I could see she was not like the other priestesses. But if I had let her pass, perhaps she would have tried to stay undercover.”
“In that case, it is fortunate you rooted out the spy in our midst, Dark Lord,” Mona said. She turned to me, looking up at me with a smirk. “You have a keen eye.”
“And you a keen tongue,” I said, before hastily adding, “to cast a spell of flame binding so quickly.”
Once the elevator reached its destination and the doors clattered open, Ilmatar exited quickly, as if allergic to whatever was going on between me and the High Priestess.
I gestured towards the door and followed Mona out into the archives. The air was musty in this chamber, which lacked any windows or obvious ventilation. This place must have covered the same height as two regular floors. The outside of the circular room contained shelves from floor to ceiling, and a smaller pillar of shelving sat in the middle of the room, books and scrolls towering above us on all sides.
There were no ladders, however, so for a moment, I wondered how one would access the volumes up and out of reach.
Near the central pillar, a blue-skinned blob of flesh floated above a chair with its back turned, apparently reading the book that was open on the desk in front of him. I remembered him from the feast, as well as the intense look he had given me. Now, at last, we were to be properly acquainted.
At the sound of our approaching footsteps, the book flipped close as if by its own accord and began to float towards a shelf halfway up the central column, where it gently slid into an open gap.
Telekinesis? I wondered. How do I learn that?
Suddenly, the reason for the lack of ladders became clear.
The blob then turned towards us, revealing a massive eye bigger than my head. The eye blinked slowly, and I saw a trail of orange-yellow mucus hanging from one corner of it. Part of me wanted to offer Asmodeus a handkerchief, but I hadn’t seen any and had no idea if that was an item that demons even used. The eye passed over our group, finally settling on me, blinking slowly.
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“Archivist Kuthoryx,” Ilmatar said. “May I present our newly returned Lord and Master, Greg-Theryx.”
Asmodeus bowed—by which I mean his entire body bobbed down, as if performing a legless curtsy, before returning to its usual height. “It is a pleasure, Master,” he said—I had no idea where his voice was coming from, exactly, since he did not appear to have a mouth anywhere I could see, but his words seemed to project from his general area mysteriously.
Now that we were closer, I saw he was wearing a blue and black piece of fabric, sashed around the bottom part of his body, which hung below him like a kilt.
“Greetings again, Archivist,” I said. “It has been quite some time.” My eyes wandered up to the central shelf. “Reading something good?”
“Ah, Dark Lord,” Asmodeus said, and I thought I detected a hint of anxiety in his voice, “I was researching the various Orders of Paladins among the beastfolk. I must say, it is rare for our brethren to use divine magic.”
In the Book of Grievances, it wasn’t something I had seen mentioned at all, the idea that a member of one of the Void-touched, a fellow monster, would pledge themselves so directly to Sun-Domia’s service. Perhaps it was yet another unfortunate detail that previous High Priestesses had omitted.
“Yes, it seems that Lycanta has grown unruly…” My voice trailed off for a moment. “Their devotion has waned.” I tried to sound mildly chagrined by it, more annoyed than insulted.
“Indeed,” Asmodeus said. “Over the time of your Lordship’s absence, Dreadthorn’s sphere of influence over our neighbors, I regret to say, has shrunk considerably.”
“That’s not—” Ilmatar began, an edge of hostility in his voice, but I shook my head at him, and he grew quiet.
“Based on what I’ve seen, I agree with Asmodeus’s assessment, Majordomo. It’s not your fault, so don’t take it personally.”
“I— Yes, Dark Lord.” He bowed and stepped back, out of my reach, as if worried I would only now decide, randomly, to strike him. I sighed.
I’d arrived at a question I wasn’t ready to ask yet—whose fault was it, then? I should have asked Shatterbone about that, probably, but he scared the shit out of me.
“We should focus on our path forward rather than the past,” Mona said, filling the silence. “What information do we need to extract from our prisoner? What concessions can we obtain from Ophidium and Arachnia?”
“Both excellent questions, High Priestess,” Asmodeus said, gladly moving to a less contentious subject. He floated over to a shelf on the outer wall. As he did so, a book slid off the shelf and flew into Mona’s hands. It settled there, and I raised an eyebrow at its title: “Nine Methods of Water Torture,” apparently written by some demon named Grolf Kneebiter.
“Very effective,” Asmodeus said, “and even better because it poses little risk of death to the subject.”
Wait, had I been here less than two days, and I was already getting ready to water-board a prisoner?
“There are better ways,” I said, taking the book and handing it back to Asmodeus before I remembered he had no arms. Nevertheless, the book floated out of my hands and returned to the shelf.
“Oh,” Asmodeus said, sounding almost offended at my rejection of his book. “I suppose the Dark Lord would know best. I was only attempting to assist with Lady Desdemona’s query, but if that knowledge is unwanted…”
Asmodeus seemed refreshing in that, unlike most demons, he appeared to have no great interest in fawning over me. Instead, he seemed to prize only the knowledge that was in his possession. The darker, the better, perhaps.
“I should ask a more specific question. What is the current political situation in Lycanta? Why has the city tipped towards Sun-Domia, and who in Lycanta would wish to send someone to spy on us?”
“Well, Master, that’s rather complicated to explain,” Asmodeus said, listing to one side for a moment as if tilting his head. “Lycanta was relatively politically stable for most of the time you’ve been away. However, forty-seven years ago, after an economic crisis caused by gross bureaucratic mismanagement, the King and all known members of the former ruling dynasty were beheaded. A governing council now rules the city state of Lycanta, made up of representatives from various prominent merchant families.”
So they had themselves a little revolution, did they? “So in that case,” I said, “any of the ruling families would have reasons to spy on us.”
Asmodeus tilted forward in a nod. “Just so, my Lord.”
“We certainly can ask her who sent her, but a paladin will never betray a trust,” Mona said.
“Not yet, at least,” I said.
“Ah, these ‘better ways’ you mentioned.” Mona looked at me dubiously.
“Just so.” I looked over at Ilmatar. “Do you know if our prisoner has been fed?”
“The prisoners are generously provided a bowl of moss soup once per day, but I heard she would not eat it, Master.” Ilmatar was still standing just out of my reach, perhaps dreading the fact he seemed fated to give me lots of bad news.
“Ah. That’s perfect, actually,” I said and smiled at Asmodeus. “Do you have any cookbooks from Lycanta?”
“Uh… Yes, Master, we probably have one or two…” He furrowed his brow, or at least, the skin above his eye, then floated up into the dark, searching.
“While you’re up there, I’d be interested in reading the book you had when we entered,” I said. “The one about Orders of Paladins in Lycanta.”
“Ah, Master, I assume you already know all about them… After all, you did eradicate them all personally.”
I felt Mona tense next to me, and her lips part slightly as if prepared to cast a spell. But even if she lit him on fire, what would we do about Ilmatar? “I merely wish to read a chronicle of my victories, Archivist. By refreshing my memory, it will help me decide on an appropriate punishment for this newest nuisance.”
“Ah… Yes, yes, of course, Master…”
In short order, three books floated down, two into Ilmatar’s hands and one into mine. Sure enough, mine was entitled “A Chronicle of The Heretic Orders of Lycanta and their Purification” and was a tome as wide as my hand.
But, strangely, it did not look familiar. “Asmodeus, this isn’t the same book you were reading earlier. You returned that book to the central pillar, and I can still see exactly where it rests. The covers are different, as well.”
“Oh? I, uh…”
“What were you reading?”
The book I had fixed my eyes on slid off the shelf and floated down towards me. I passed the book I had in my hands to Mona, then examined the cover of the new arrival. “The Horny Demoness and the Vigorous Fox-kin,” the title read. I flipped open the book, only to be greeted by a lurid illustration depicting a sexual act that honestly looked far too complex to pull off—a Kama Sutra-esque pretzel—and not remotely comfortable. But I could only assume this, having never attempted such a thing myself. The several pages that followed described a liaison between the characters, which my eyes scanned for longer than was strictly necessary.
“Is this what I think it is?”
“Yes, Dark Lord. I, uh, well, I hope you’ll…”
Mona, who had begun to read over my shoulder, began to laugh. “Why am I not surprised,” she said.
I closed the book and held it out. “Well, I guess that’s enough research for today,” I said dryly.
Ilmatar, still fumbling with the cookbooks, sighed from behind me. “I didn’t get to see it…” he said as the book floated back to its place on the shelves.
“Ilmatar, I’m afraid you’ll have to return on your own time.” I looked at the cookbooks in his hands. “First, I have a task for you.”
In response, Ilmatar looked down at the books dubiously.
Asmodeus floated back down from the darkness until he was slightly below my eye level rather than equal to it. Was this his way of humbling himself before me? “I’m afraid that, uh, I did not expect you to arrive quite so early,” Asmodeus said with a nervous chuckle.
I waved my hand dismissively. “We’re all demons here. So don’t worry about it. We have far more important concerns to attend to.”
Are all demons horny perverts? I wondered, before realizing it was a stupid question because the answer was obviously yes. But I guessed I was a bit of one myself, so I could hardly fault them for it. If anything, it just meant I fit in.