“We call it ‘The Stage’,” began Reed after they had affected introductions and emptied the chairs. The previous occupants lay on the floor, still in a seated position.

“Why do they not leave ghosts like we do?”

“Because they aren’t important.”

“This one handles accounting for one of my monumental erections,” Urathenemon said, fist clenched in fury, “without their careful attention, half my fiefdom would remain untended. They are not unimportant.” they said.

Reed smiled, sadly, as he looked at the clenched fist of the great fiend.

“Forgive my careless choice of words,” Reed said, “I have a child in my care who is treated by The Stage in a similar manner and I understand that what the stage values and what is valuable are not always the same.”

“This,” Urath gestured about, “is the work of this ‘Stage’, then?” Urath asked.

Reed nodded. “As best as we can tell.”

“You aren’t certain.”

“We have seen many things, phenomena that strain and burst the models into which our finite minds try and stuff the worlds we fall through,” Reed took a deep breath, “but ‘The Stage’, as we call it, is something we do not understand.”

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“But you know what to expect?”

“Somewhat.”

“So, what do you expect from this?” Urath asked, waving their clawed hand around at the space filled with frozen fiends and ghostly, flickering, apparitions. Szarra, the snake woman, had pulled out a book. The tentacled one was completing a very ornate set of whiskers. “Are we damned to linger ever in this frozen world? With nothing but the mustaches we paint on the frozen forms of those who serve me to occupy our time?”

“Sometimes I practice card tricks.” The sweet baby calico goat said in a deep and brassy voice.

“Your voice, it sounds familiar.”

“This is my familiar, Baphomet.”

“This is my senior thesis project, Dipshit Greenbottle.”

“Baphomet,” mused Urathenomon, “you helped Agmeroth achieve their title, if I am not mistaken.”

“You are not mistaken, your honor, I was interning at the time and lured some young lovers into lurid acts.”

“A dance, wasn’t it?”

“A forbidden one, yes.”

“Well done, and now you’re working as a familiar?”

“Only as a thesis project. I aim to prove that suffering in service doesn’t need to be top down.”

“Interesting, you aim to explore the inversion of suffering power dynamics?”

“I call it the ‘Pissing Upward’ theory of agony economics.”

“I look forward to reading it when you’re done.” Urath said, and then paused before looking at Reed, “Assuming it can ever be completed.”

Reed shrugged, “It probably can.”

“Tell me more about ‘probably’.”