*~This is BL eventually, be warned children~*
In a room in a castle far far away, many harried workers stood in a small circle, their pens were not frantically making calculations about grain yield or tax levies, there was no sound of hurried footsteps or mumbled curses. Inside the stuffy work place was an awkward silence pressing down on all of them, a heavy pressure that was hard to break.
<……>
After a long wait a young woman with fin-like ears poking through her bright red hair spoke up first. “C-can you repeat it, what the Demon Lord said?”
A young almost childish looking man stared at the oldest man in the group, “Grandpa, do you know why the Demon Lord is suddenly behaving like this?”
The old man gulped, “I truly do not know what to make of it… “
“But out of all of us advisors you have been with the Demon Lord the longest!” The young boy admonished. “Ah ha, yes, but that is only by the grace that I haven’t died yet…” The old man averted his eyes, avoiding the question.
Another woman, beautiful and buxomly, crossed her arms, emphasizing her bust, frowning. “I don’t like this.. he has never done something like this before.”
“M-maybe he is going to just eat…” The red headed woman stammered, too frightened to finish her thought.
“Maybe this is a sign that he wants to acquire more, and we should start preparing for a war?” The young childish man threw in.
Everyone grew quiet, imagining another war after the difficultly acquired peace they had now secured. While the advisors would follow the Demon Lord no matter what his decision or decree, they still had opinions of their own, and bodies of their own, that were much less powerful than the almighty Demon Lord, that were sorely fatigued from years of warring against neighboring countries. It was in this last war between their two neighbors, sandwiched in-between opposition, that the Demon Lord stood up and made a name for himself. It is said that the reddish earth that is found all along their demon country is the result of the Demon Lord himself constantly spilling enemy blood, soaking the earth in it’s hue. The large and impressive man, with long silky black hair that flew behind him like a mantle, his curved black horns poking out of his head like a natural crown, proclaiming him a king among demons, his sharp fangs that peeked out between his lips when he gave a grim, satisfied smile on the battlefield, all of it left an indelible impression on all persons present.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The impression was this man would eat your soul for an afternoon treat, he would kill an entire army just to make a point of his strength. This man was dangerous.
This man was not to be messed with.
And this man, who strikes fear in hundreds of thousands with his name alone, had brought his trusted aides and advisors to a point of near-insanity trying to understand and interpret his latest remarks, and figure out what exactly this paragon among demons wanted to do. This man had nonchalantly inquired to the old man during the morning visit the most improbable thing…
“I picked up a cat recently, but what do I feed it?”