The Baron’s mansion was spacious enough to accommodate close to the entire gathering of curious individuals with only the lowliest of serfs having to wait outside the doors or guard the entrances. Mammon strolled through the wide hallways and extravagant lounges into the heart of the building, going at an ease that made the people around him almost forget that it was the first time that the man had stepped foot through its doors. Mammon didn’t need directions to know where to go, he could smell the familiar scent of decay and death even from outside the mansion walls.
It took the others significantly longer to notice the rot, for the servants had done an admirable job hiding the worst of the smell with scented oils and expensive perfumes. However, as the guests neared the bed chambers, nothing could hide the putrid stench from notice. The various highborn guests all gestured to their respective guards to be on high alert, and the men and women responsible for detaining the senators and corrupt officials redoubled their vigilance.
Mammon was but steps away from the opulent double doors that led into the sanctum of the home when the first guilty individual decided that it was best to make a break for it. A pudgy council member had managed to conceal a small dagger and made a naive attempt to lunge at his captors. His intentions were so obvious, and his movement so slow and clumsy, that Mammon needn't have worried about the guard’s safety, but he acted anyway. The demon grabbed the fat man’s hands and broke his wrist in a smooth motion. Sizzling flesh and the smell of roasted meat filled the air a second later, followed by the howls of the victim.
“Break his legs,” Mammon commanded casually as he wiped away the charred remains of meat from his hands.
The guards hesitated for a moment, but the scowl that the demon sent their way quickly overrode whatever morals they might have had. It only took another fierce look of disapproval from the demon that a courageous individual did as he was told using the blunt of his blade.
“And someone shut him up,” Mammon added in disdain.
“Y-yes sir!”
A dirty rag was placed in the pleading man’s mouth, which did little to muffle his hoarse screams, but it was better than nothing.
Mammon stopped and turned to address the other captives. “Think twice before you try something similar to your friend. The next person who does something will have their legs burned off, not merely broken.”
No one was stupid enough to refute those words.
“Good,” the demon continued, “Although I think the guilt is clear from the current evidence, it is still prudent of us to make sure that that is the case.” He gestured to one of the bodyguards. “Open the door.”
The woman gave Mammon a nervous nod and did as she was told, although, from her face, it was clear that she wanted to do nothing of the sort. She wrenched open the doors and almost puked when the wave of musty air assaulted her nose. She quickly stuffed a handkerchief to her face, and Mammon saw that everyone else did the same. He was the only one to remain unfazed. The olfactory barrage was something that had to be experienced to understand, and even Mammon was impressed by how putrid it was, and he had spent the better half of eternity in Hell.
A few mages quickly came over and circulated the air, their hands glowing in arcane power, and before long, the horrible stench was more or less dealt with. Mammon gave them a nod, once again amazed by just how useful it was to be able to manipulate the elements like that, even if it was for a rudimentary reason.
Mammon walked through the threshold, the others following a moment after, but they soon stopped what they were doing when they saw the state that the baron and his son were in. Now being the CEO of Hell, which meant being one of the six strongest demons around, meant that Mammon had seen the human body in practically every state of being imaginable. He had honestly thought he’d seen it all in terms of suffering, but this? Well, this was wholely unique, something only possible with this world’s magic.
A man quickly exited the room and threw up. The nobles with weaker constitutions collapsed into the arms of their private bodyguards, but even those battle-hardened veterans couldn’t help gagging at the scene.
The Baron, or at least what was left of him, was left to decay in his bed. His body had been bloated to an impossible degree, the skin around his stomach and thighs ripping with internal swelling, and the flesh in his back had sunken into the grimy covers and fused with the fabric. All signs point to severe neglect and the advanced stages of decay, and the demon had to swat some of the buzzing insects away from him as he went closer to inspect the bodies. Mammon noted that the boy was in a similar state as his poor father.
If that was all, then it wouldn’t have been all too bad for the demon, but it was the intricate scrawls of runic inscriptions that interlaced the dying - yes, he was not yet deceased if the shallow breathing was any indication - man’s yellowed skin. No, it wasn’t a tattoo or scars that made up the writing, it was as if someone had gone and surgically altered each and every blood vessel to form that flowing text. It pulsated with each breath the man took, sending waves of physical agony with each movement of his body.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Yes, curiously, Mammon could feel the faint echos of pain as he neared the baron. He could taste the anguish that the two had undergone, and stranger yet, he could feel the strange text bulge and extend from its host as if it wanted to infect the demon’s own flesh. Mammon brought a hand close to the baron’s arms and saw the scripture react to his presence. It was actively seeking to make contact with him. What a strange form of magic.
“Lord Amon, sir,” someone said between gasps, “Please, stay away from that!”
Mammon did as instructed, his curiosity having been satiated for now. He turned to face a scholarly gentleman, one Viscount Daren if he recalled correctly. “Do you know what this is?”
“That is…” he began, “That’s the work of the Anathema. That foul blend of Shadow and Soul magic can be the work of no other. It is an affront to everything that is holy!”
“Explain,” Mammon said, his brows furrowing. “What is this Anathema, and what is it doing in this Barony?”
Someone else, a blonde woman dressed in well-fitting leathers, came over to address the two. She was taller than Mammon by almost a head, and a strange aura of calm seemed to envelop her as she made her way closer. She was unarmed, as far as the demon could tell, but his instincts told him that she was extremely dangerous even without a weapon. In fact, Mammon was almost sure that she’d floor him in a fight, and quite easily at that. Curious where such a formidable individual came from.
“I can answer that for you.” She said, before turning to address Daren. “It is best if you get some air, my Lord, being so close to the body is not healthy for one of your age and standing.”
The Viscount nodded quickly. “Yes, that is a good idea. I apologize, Lord Amon, but I must see myself out.”
He didn’t wait for a reply before making his way out of the room as quickly as his aged legs would allow.
“I am Diana,” the woman continued, offering a hand to shake. Mammon took it. “A simple mercenary hired by the Viscount for this occasion, although I must admit that I have failed in this particular duty.”
Mammon had to suppress a frown when he regarded the woman anew. Gone was the strange sensation that he felt when he first saw her, and instead, he now found her rather unremarkable aside from her abnormal height. That incongruence put the demon on alert; he knew his own senses to know that his first impressions of her weren’t wrong, so why had things changed now? More mysteries and questions, once again affirming the need to know more about this strange new world.
“A pleasure to meet you, although I wish the circumstances were better,” Mammon replied, “But I thought that the Viscount had no family of that age in attendance?”
She shook her head. “No, he did not, but I should have noticed that someone had infiltrated the event regardless.”
“You were not the only one,” Mammon admitted, “The interloper got the better of us all.”
The woman frowned, lost in her own mind for a moment. “They did… that is rare.”
Hm, from the way she said that, Mammon was sure that there was a deeper meaning there, but without any additional information, it would be impossible for him to know what that was.
Mammon raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
Her eyes went wide for a split moment before she quickly replied. “Ah, sorry, it is just that I am not used to being taken so off guard like this, although I suppose that it is true that finding spies and kidnappers is not my specialty. Merc work is mainly just protecting from visible threats.”
Mammon didn’t need to be a denizen of Hell to know that she wasn’t being completely honest here, and he couldn’t help but think that this quiet little northern town held more secrets than he had bargained for. Plus, it was as if something was attracting all of these mysterious, strangely capable people here. Then again, Mammon supposed that he counted among those strangely capable people. There must be a reason why he was here in the first place, it wasn’t as if summoning one of the rulers of Hell across dimensions was an everyday occurrence, but just what was so special about this little frozen settlement?
“Anyway,” the woman continued, “I suppose you would rather hear about the Baron’s condition than my life story.”
Mammon chuckled. He was almost sure that hearing her life story would be a lot more interesting than finding out about this curse, but he didn’t say that part out loud.
“Yes, that is true.” He replied instead. “What is this Anathema that Viscount Daren spoke of?”
“I have only encountered it once before in my travels,” she said - a lie, Mammon tasted, and the questions just kept piling up, “But that one time was enough for me to thoroughly study its nature.” She shuddered. “It’s not a sight you could forget.”
“That is impressive dedication, Lady Diana.”
“Just Diana, my Lord” she laughed, “I’m no highborn noble.”
No lies there.
“Ah, my mistake,” Mammon replied, “I had thought otherwise. You are a very eloquent speaker given your profession, and you conduct yourself well.”
A slight fluster, but otherwise nothing to indicate that she was off-put by the question. It was hard to tease information out of this woman.
“Most of my clientele of late are of significant social standing, and that has required me to learn a lot of etiquette,” she answered, “And I thank you for indirectly complimenting my studies, Lord Amon.”
Mammon nodded. “You are welcome in that case, Diana, but please, continue.”
Mammon turned his attention back to the woman, trying to unearth any new clues about why he thought her so strange, and that was when he realized what it was. Aside from the dichotomy of his first impressions and the mundane appearance now, Mammon had only now realized that she was the only other person in the room who wasn’t reacting to the morbid scene before them. Sure, he supposed that having witnessed something similar in the past might have enured her to the worst of it, but even Mammon, a literal Archdemon from the pits of Human suffering, found the baron’s body disconcerting.
“By your will,” she said with a polite smile. It was such a contrast to the bedroom that they inhabited. “To put it simply, the Anathema, or more precisely the group of beings known collectively as the Anathema, are the largest threat to the stability of the world.” She smiled at Mammon. “But I am sure that you would know of this, for even children would have heard tales of their existence. You would have to be from very far away to be completely clueless about this, Lord Amon, and you seem a very learned individual.”
Mammon paused, staring directly into the blue eyes of this strange woman, and for the first time since his departure from Hell, he had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t the only one scrutinizing the true nature of another individual.