As the elevator began to descend, creaky as always, Ilmatar cleared his throat. There was something he hadn’t wanted to say in front of Mona. But it wasn’t a super long elevator ride, and I also had a few things on my mind.
“I think we should stop selling to Ophidium. We should stockpile the produce ourselves. What use is gold during a war? Wouldn’t we rather keep the explosives?”
Ilmatar looked at me for a moment nervously, then stepped around me abruptly and jammed his finger into the elevator button at the bottom of the panel.
The elevator suddenly stopped, and Ilmatar swayed on his feet slightly before leaning against the wall.
“Dark Lord, when you told me it wasn’t the time for unnecessary bloodletting, I had assumed you would include yourself.”
In truth, I’d forgotten that I’d ever said that. I supposed Ilmatar had been paying more attention to my words than I had. When I first woke up, everything had been a blur. I had only been trying to buy time.
“You’re right.”
Ilmatar sighed. “Forgive me for my impertinence. I’ll—Wait, I’m right?”
“Yes,” I said, looking him in the eye. “You are. I shouldn’t have done that.” I didn’t regret it, but I couldn’t say it was a wise decision. In truth, I still felt a little light-headed. And now I needed to discuss our war efforts and somehow convince Shatterbone and the others that I was in any way prepared for what was to come. “Ilmatar, you didn’t answer my question.”
“Oh, right.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. “I wouldn’t mention that today. Anything about Ophidium.” He glanced at me pointedly. “Don’t tweak their horns.” I translated it to something like, don’t ruffle their feathers.
“That bad, huh?”
He shrugged. “It was not a good look. The High Priestess wasn’t privy to the discussions, and I heard of it only through tower whispers, but Shatterbone called an emergency meeting among the military leadership. If you did not regain consciousness within an hour, Shatterbone intended to assume command.”
“I see.” I felt my hands clench into fists at my side, then tried to force them to relax.
Don’t die, Mona had mouthed to me, and I had laughed because she’d said it enough times by now that I had begun to feel safe, I had started to think that I might fool all of them for long enough.
And now I wondered if that was true. What kind of meeting had I decided to waltz into without a care in the world?
Ilmatar tapped the stop button again, and the elevator resumed its descent. “Otherwise, we’ll be late,” he explained and stared at me for a moment as if to impress upon me the seriousness of such tardiness. I had never seen this expression on Ilmatar’s face before, a weary look in his sad, crooked eyes, as if he had finally had enough of it all and grown exhausted.
The elevator arrived, the door clattering open and revealing the familiar hallway that led to the Hall of War. I emerged and looked toward the double doors, both spread wide, and through them, I could see the Generals of the Three Legions—Shatterbone, Krez, and Braz seated around the table.
Shatterbone raised a closed fist in greeting, and the other two generals delivered crisp demon salutes, which I returned.
As I entered the room, I looked towards the ends of the table, surprised to find it empty other than the three of them. Not even Lucifron had been invited.
“You can wait outside,” General Shatterbone said, talking past my shoulder to where Ilmatar stood close behind me. “This information is sensitive.”
I turned to look over my shoulder at him and nodded.
“Of course,” Ilmatar said after a brief moment of hesitation. “I’ll be outside, Master, if I can assist with anything.”
I noticed there were guards on either side of the door, even on the inside. I didn’t remember if there had been guards here the last time I came here or if this was new. But now, as I thought of the three uniformed hulks in front of me and the two spear-wielding sentries behind me, I could not help but feel surrounded.
A single seat lay unoccupied at the center of the table across from the Generals. Shatterbone gestured to it and smiled at me, his uncannily white teeth gleaming. “You honor us with your esteemed presence, Dark Lord Greg-Theryx. We have much to discuss.”
I nodded and approached, my eyes scanning the table, where I saw the armies had changed position since our last meeting. Sun-Domia’s Grand Alliance had crept closer to the rolling hills on their side of Lycanta. Our forces hadn’t moved, placed outside of Dreadthorn throughout the territory claimed by the demons. I could not help but notice that Lycanta was already as good as occupied by the Grand Alliance.
It made me think about what Rhea had said, that we’d abandoned everyone in Lycanta, even those who had stayed loyal to us. I couldn’t argue with her. The Generals must have thought it made more sense to give it up as a lost cause and focus on defending the valley instead. I felt that the city would have been much easier to protect if only the valley had been on the other side of Lycanta. But it wasn’t. Doomed by geography, the city had been razed four times, if my memory of the Book served. Assuming it hadn’t happened again in the parts of the Book I’d skipped.
“Generals,” I said, nodding at each of them in turn. “What do you have for me?”
Shatterbone smirked, an unnerving sight, and looked down at the table. “As I said, we have decided to begin our march in the third week of Kelnar, or perhaps earlier, depending on the speed of this year’s thaw.”
I nodded. “As I said, I concur.”
He smiled again. “I’m glad to hear it, Dark Lord. It is important to ensure we are all in accord.”
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I smiled back at him without opening my mouth. Something about his demeanor felt strange, different from before. “What else?” I asked impatiently. It seemed like the type of thing I was supposed to do. “You must have more on your mind than this. I hope I didn’t come here to repeat what has already been decided.”
Shatterbone raised his hands defensively, but he smiled as he did so, that stupid smug look still on his face. “Of course, Master, indeed you did not.” He turned to my left, where the blue-skinned general was seated. “Krez, please provide an update on the readiness of the Second Legion.”
Krez leaned forward in his chair and opened a folder that had been sitting on the table in front of him. After flipping through the pages, he tapped the paper in front of him with a black claw and began to read. “We have stockpiled supplies for a two-month march, though we will need to commandeer some food. The natural time for resupply is once we have left demon territory and are in the Lycantan borderlands on our side of the valley. There are unaffiliated beastfolk who do not answer to Lycanta and will not be well defended.”
We would march in early spring, presumably before any new food could be grown. They would still be living off winter rations, and then we would come and steal their food.
But there was nothing I could do to stop that, was there?
Krez continued to talk, but by this point, my mind had wandered too far, and I grew lost in the minutia of the troop numbers and readiness levels he was repeating, presumably verbatim, from a table on the page in front of him.
So far, this was surely a meeting that could have been an e-mail.
After Krez, Braz spoke on the Third Legion’s status. The Third Legion was the largest, though composed of the least seasoned troops, mostly conscripts. I recalled from our first meeting that the plan was to use them as front-line soldiers with the more experienced soldiers of the First and Second Legions behind them. The Third was cannon fodder, essentially meat to feed the grinder. They were also more likely to breathe Phaedra’s gas if the wind changed direction unexpectedly. I understood the cold logic of their plan, and it made me queasy with guilt. I recalled Ilmatar’s words, however—don’t tweak their horns—and knew there was nothing I could do for them either. If there was one aspect of Greg-Theryx’s character I had gleaned from the Book, it was this—he was ruthlessly pragmatic.
Braz cleared his throat loudly, and I wondered if he’d been able to tell that I had stopped paying attention. “I heard that you visited the Smithing Guild to check on the status of the weapons for our troops. It means more than I can truly say, Dark Lord, that you are so concerned with our armament. But I assure you the Third will do our duty, even if my men have to procure weapons from the corpses of their first kills.”
“Your dedication is noted, General,” I told the green-skinned demon. A scar ran diagonally along his face, though it had faded, only a slightly lighter pigmentation of green than his skin. “I would never question your duty, but it would still be prudent if we were to send our soldiers into battle with weapons already in hand.”
Shatterbone laughed. “Too true, Dark Lord. Those lazy smiths better come through. If they miss their targets, we might have to feed a few of them to the Void.”
“It would motivate the others,” I said, “but reduce their manpower. I made the cost of failure abundantly clear to Guildmaster Ravennest.” I placed my fist on the table and clenched it for dramatic effect, then slowly relaxed and began to tap my claws against the wood. I looked back to Braz. “Is that all?”
He nodded. “Yes, Dark Lord.”
“Good.” I looked across the table towards Shatterbone. He hadn’t spoken much, which surprised me. “And the First?”
Shatterbone’s toothy grin could not help but appear menacing as always. “We stand ready as always. Fully prepared to march, even if we were to leave tomorrow.”
I nodded. “I would expect nothing less from you, General.”
A moment of silence passed where no one spoke, and I hoped there might be nothing else to discuss.
Until I felt a familiar presence approaching via the elevator, rising from below, and my stomach twisted. Though I knew it might seem strange, I stole a glance over my shoulder and blinked my eyes to see if perhaps I was mistaken and only being paranoid.
Sadly, Phaedra’s Will was indeed rising toward us. Though she glowed less brightly than some, Phaedra’s Will had a weight to it, a solidity suggesting it could not be moved easily.
“There’s another matter,” Shatterbone said.
I looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. “Don't keep me waiting.”
Shatterbone nodded gravely. “The paladin from Lycanta. I fear that our guards have gossiped. Amongst the rank and file, foul rumors have spread.”
Ah. So there was more to this meeting after all. They’d just saved the worst for last. I felt like a fool for thinking I had easily made it out of here.
“You propose we execute her?” I asked.
I hadn’t wanted to harm her, but now I wondered if I could afford to let her live.
“I had that in mind,” Shatterbone said. “But Priestess Midnight made an alternate proposal. She is always eager for test subjects, and she has a variety of tinctures whose primary applications are in the realm of interrogation. Once we have extracted all possible value from the prisoner, she could be thrown to the Void for your sustenance.”
I nodded slowly as if thinking it over. I wasn’t sure if this was better or worse than killing her outright. Perhaps, by trying to save Rhea, I had merely doomed her to torture and poisoning, a slow death rather than a quick one.
“That’s acceptable,” I said, knowing I had just approved what would be a war crime on earth. On top of it, from the way she had acted so far, I doubted Phaedra would get anything useful from her. My throat felt dry as I spoke, the words scratchy, and I wished they had something to drink in here, even just a pitcher of water, as I felt my face grow hot from shame. “Phaedra can do what she wishes to her.”
Perhaps sensing my disquiet, Shatterbone said, “It is the right course of action, Dark Lord. Though the girl is physically appealing, a paladin is far too dangerous to use as a fuckpet. Thankfully, eliminating her will squash the rumors.”
“I hadn’t even—”
Shatterbone raised a hand. “Naturally, Dark Lord, I would never put stock in such gossip. I know your interest in the prisoner was merely for intelligence-gathering purposes.”
I heard the elevator arrive with a clang from out in the hallway. “You didn’t need to invite Phaedra to discuss this, surely,” I said, the word fuckpet echoing in my mind. These fucking demons. But I was one of them now, whether I liked it or not.
Shatterbone grinned, then shook his head. “Indeed, you are correct, Dark Lord. I’m afraid there is another matter.” He steepled his hands above the table, a strangely dignified pose, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prick up, every cell in my body telling me something was wrong.
The door opened behind me, and I felt Phaedra’s presence seep into the room like a toxic vapor.
“I called Priestess Midnight here for a most delicate matter,” Shatterbone said. “I couldn’t help but notice, in Colonel Darkstar’s report, that High Priestess Fell appears to be in good spirits.”
I don’t know what I’d expected, but this wasn’t it.
“If you’ll forgive our impertinence, Dark Lord,” Shatterbone continued, “There are many others, worthy and loyal demons, who possess strategic importance for our war effort, for whom receiving such power would be quite a boon.”
“Ah,” I said. “Such as…” My eyes scanned to where Phaedra had approached, standing near the table, her hands crossed behind her, strangely demure considering why she had been brought here. “You, Priestess Midnight.”
She stared into my eyes for a long moment with a pleased look and a subtle glow that I found unnerving, considering the circumstances.
Shatterbone took another folder from under the table and opened it before him, then slid it across to me. “I’m afraid some disturbing reports have come to light, Dark Lord, that you may wish to consider.”
“Disturbing to who?” I asked, but it all became clear as I looked at the pages. Why they had summoned Phaedra, and what they hoped to achieve.
I had been worried for myself, but that was only half the story.
Because the folder Shatterbone had given me to read wasn’t about me.
It was a file on Desdemona Fell.