The Divine Lord’s demon, in the shape of the man called Astatine, had told Father Tremo all of which had happened since their last meeting. Now they were preparing his supper. But only since they had once more cast away the encroaching rain, much to his silent gratitude paired with dismay.

“You do seem to like to cook”, he mused, while the demon cut some vegetables he had never heard of before.

“Does my ability not suite your tastes?”, they asked with a smirk.

“N-no!”, he hastily replied. “Your cooking certainly seems worth of a king! It’s just…”

“Oh, do go on, little brother.”

“You don’t need to eat, do you?”

“It’s not a necessity in any regard”, they answered after a few moments, during which they had tasted the broth they had set upon the fire about an hour ago. “But I do enjoy a good meal like any human you could find. Besides, eating good is a luxury I like to share with those I find to my liking.”

Astatine, or whatever their real name or shape was, wasn’t like the monster Tremo had thought about. They almost seemed human.

“Do you share your cooking with your master?”, he asked, although he couldn’t imagine it.

“He never asked me to cook for him, thus far”, they replied, relaxed. “I don’t think he would eat a meal prepared by me.”

“One never knows”, he remarked thoughtfully. “Perhaps your master still holds some kindness within his heart and would appreciate you cooking for him. Per chance, he would even cook for you?”

“Oh, he definitely does have some kindness, or rather sentimentality within him”, they answered in good spirits. “I accuse him constantly of it. I can imagine he does hear my voice chiding him whenever he does something kind without me present. But I don’t think it’ll be enough for him to even consider touching what I cook or wasting resources on me.”

“You sound so amused, but doesn’t this minimise your influence on his soul if he still holds kindness in his heart?”, he asked reluctant.

“His soul is his very own, although I implied the opposite. But what’s a little lie among fiends? Besides, certain conventions and expectations need to be upheld. I, for my part, am just interested which direction he ultimately chooses and that he supplies me with enough life-force to witness his choice. To be honest, he had grown quite predictable and boring over the last few years, but for about a week he’s grown once more entertaining.”

“So you don’t need souls?”

“Do I look like I have any use for those?”

Tremo made himself smaller underneath Astatine’s burning gaze. It didn’t help that the shadows on their face in the growing darkness made them look much fiercer than they already looked. It also didn’t help that their glowing eyes shone like illuminated rubies, casting more of the face into darkness by comparison.

“Ah, my poor, poor little brother. You needn’t be afraid. I won’t harm you. And what should I do with souls? I hold no governance over anyone's soul in this world. I’m just here for my own entertainment.”

“Then your sense of entertainment is cruel”, he replied, and immediately regretted it.

“Cruel?”, the demon remarked, but they sounded taken aback by it. “I guess that’s true…”

Time seemed to slow down. Tremo studied Astatine’s face with apprehension as they watched the boiling stew on the fire. Again, something seemed off about the demon, as if they weren’t as truly evil as they wanted to appear. But this didn’t make sense. They had tempted the man who had then become the Divine Lord and allowed great evil to befall the whole land. Without them, there wouldn’t be so many dead. Without them, everything would be the same. Without them…

Father Tremo flinched. The idea had come sudden, but it was persistent. If he were to kill the demon… If he managed to do it…

“That’s insane!”, he said, shocked about his own mind coming up with something so heinous.

“You could call it that”, Astatine remarked, absentminded. “But… I haven’t been really sane for… how long? But why worry about that? The things are as they are, so it’s wisest to remain focused on the present. I also wanted to tell you about the boy, my master took in, didn’t I?”

“The boy called Offilo?”, he asked, a bit too relieved for his own taste.

“Yes. The poor, oblivious scion of the late king”, said Astatine back in their happy-go-lucky voice. “The poor lad doesn’t even know about his bloodline. He thinks himself as a mere peasant!”

“The Divine Lord has the heir to the throne!?”

“No need to shout, little brother. Besides, bloodline doesn’t make a ruler, no matter if just or cruel. The boy lacks the proper training to be a good king. The only things he knows are mediocre swordplay and some lore about the Order of the Crimson Hand.”

“So the Order is still around?”

“The Order itself is gone, the headquarters destroyed but there are still a few members left, I presume”, Astatine remarked. “But they’re spread out too thin and left without resources and leaders. My master destroyed the Order and exterminated the majority of their members. He had done so first before riding out in the open.”

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“I presume to quell every opposition powerful enough to stop him.”

“Yes and no. Securing his position and making sure he was without powerful enemies were at the forefront of his mind, yes, but he also had personal reasons to destroy the Order. Anyway, back to Offilo.”

This was going too fast for Tremo’s taste. The fact that the Order of the Crimson Hand had been destroyed so easily was shock enough, but the fact that the Divine Lord had managed to do it so incredibly fast, was even more shocking. How on earth was anyone going to stop him? If he was powerful enough to destroy a whole order dedicated to fighting and eradicating monsters and all kinds of fiends, who could actually hope to change anything?

Yet, among those thoughts, there was also a glimmer of hope. The heir to the throne was in the hands of the Divine Lord, true, but he was alive and the Divine Lord seemed to be against killing him. If to use the boy as leverage or not didn’t matter for now. Yet, the demon was also right in saying that blood alone made no good king.

“He was taken in by the remains of the Order after his mother had been killed”, Astatine continued, without seemingly noticing anything of what was going on within the Friar. “I even visited the village before I visited you, little brother, and asked around for a bit. As it turns out, Haims has been rebuilt quite nicely, considering the remains of the Order were behind the attack.”

“You’re lying”, remarked Father Tremo as he couldn’t believe the demon’s words. “The Order would never—”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, they cleared up. “They were and still ruthless men, which is why they managed to survive. Through cowardice and trickery, they fled instead of fighting and called those together who had been on missions during the cleansing.”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you”, he apologised hasty. “But didn’t you said they were spread out to thin to do anything of note?”

“They are for now once more as I killed their temporary leader but a new one will rise up soon enough and maybe even unite them. Besides, if you have questions or comments on what I am telling you, you can interrupt me anytime”, said Astatine with a smirk. “Anyway, back to Offilo… He was taken in by some remaining members of the Order and begrudgingly trained in their ways. But they kept secrets from the boy. After all, they just wanted to own him as a puppet. As a mere figurehead to be used however they pleased.”

“B-but didn’t they used the boy as bait? You told me as much when you recounted what happened at the headquarters of your master’s former order.”

“The remains of the Order aren’t the good men people talk about in such cases. Even within the Order there were just a handful of truly good people. For the most part…”

Tremo tensed up. As Astatine trailed off, they turned their head slowly towards the path to the chapel. He followed the demon’s gaze but saw nothing. Suddenly, they stood right between him and the opening in the shrubbery. In their hand was a quivering arrow. A heartbeat later, Astatine was gone, followed by a blood-curdling scream.

“Oh Lord, bandits?”, Father Tremo breathed and backed away.

Suddenly, he walked against a solid mass. Before he knew what was going on, a rough hand was pressed against his mouth and nose. The smell of weeks of sweat, dirt and old blood invaded his nostrils.

“Where do ya have yer valuables?”, asked the man holding him, with a deep, rumbling voice. “Gold… gems… whatever yer got. And dontcha dare scream or call fer yer buddy. Bastard’s most likely dead already anyway.”

Paralysed with fear, Father Tremo couldn’t move or speak even as the bandit was removing his hand. All he managed was a squashed whimper.

“Com’on now, I know yer clergy-folk have a lotta valuable junk, so hand it over, or I’ll kill ya.”

“Please, I’ve nothing of value to offer you”, he finally managed to force out.

“Close your eyes.”

Tremo tensed up. This had been clearly a woman’s voice. But those words hadn’t been spoken. Just like veils of fog roll ever so gently over a lake, those words had brushed his mind. A whisper not in his ear but his innermost being. Frightened of what was to come, he obeyed.

Not a second later, he felt the presence of the man behind him vanish. The only sound was a soft brush of clothes and a subdued shuddering breath. Then silence. Thick, choking silence. Only the crackling fire with his supper like a distant, uncaring melody.

Slow, Father Tremo opened his eyes and looked around. Everything looked like before the attack. There was no blood. No disturbance in the loose earth around the fireplace. Still, Tremo could feel the emptiness left by the bandits. It was almost like its own being. As if their absence was slowly but steadily becoming solid, perceptible. As if it turned into a monster, ready to take Tremo as well.

Suddenly, the demon stood before him in their monstrous shape. Blood dripping from the talons of their hands. A splotch of deep crimson accentuating their porcelain faces.

Father Tremo recoiled on instinct. He felt like a lost sheep who had walked upon a wolf feasting on one of its brethren. A comparison not too far off in his mind.

“I guess the fire drew them in like moths”, the demon mused unbothered, as if they hadn’t just killed someone. “Anyway… How well versed are you in funeral rites? I guess, as a good Christian man, you can’t leave them to rot without the proper send off, can you?”

“R-rot?”, he mumbled.

“Yes, little brother. Rot. I don’t wish to leave them out in the open, though. Far worse than brigands will be drawn to your humble abode. Wolves… Bears… Demons…”

“Demons?”

“Oh my, you seem thoroughly shocked. Well, little brother, gather your wits and be ready. I’ll prepare their graves.”

Without waiting for a reply, the demon left him by the fire and vanished back into the shrubbery. Tremo remained where he was, unable to even contemplate what had happened.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when the demon returned to the fire.

“I took care of cleaning everything up, little brother”, they said as they approached him. “All you need to do is say a few nice words.”

“You… you did burry them?”, he asked, and suddenly felt like he could move once more.

“I’ve bedded their mortal shells in the bosom of the earth, little brother. They rest now in eternal sleep. All you need to do is to guide their souls to a lesser hell.”

Tremo nodded and took a deep breath.

“I’ve buried them with some distance from the old graves”, the demon clarified.

“Aren’t you coming along?”, Tremo asked, confused.

For a moment, the Divine Lord’s demon seemed to think about his question. Then suddenly they flinched as if something cut them unexpectedly.

“D-did something happen?”, he asked reluctant.

“My master calls me urgently and I made a pledge to immediately appear before him”, they answered with a slightly confused expression. “It felt… weird. I’ve leaving. Sorry.”

A heartbeat later, they were gone in a cloud of smoke and feathers. Although relieved, Tremo didn’t felt happy now being on his own. There was still the chance those bandits weren’t all members of this peculiar group. Panicked, Tremo kicked the fire out and went back into the church. While it didn’t sit well with him to leave the buried bandits without the proper rites for now, he would rather not end up like them. Still, he decided to pray for their souls nonetheless.