Nocturia Preatór eyed the three Demon Kings with distrust as she entered the great hall. To see them sit at the same table as the other races was an affront to everything she bled for. But the person most deserving of her ire was her father and protector of the Iron Kingdom’s capital, Lord Somnitos Preatór: him and Prince Edmund Timur. No, not a prince; he was King Timur now, and Nocturia had to start thinking of him as such whether she liked it or not. Still, she inadvertently smiled. Who would’ve thought that the lazy, spoiled Edmund would be the one to bring the War to an end? No one. Least of all her, but she had been there when the prince killed the Demon King of Hate.
“Lady Nocturia Somnitos-Itriana Preatór, Guardian of the Gate, Holder of the Frost Arcana, Holder of the Shattered Mirror, First Mage of the Noctis Schola Magica, Protector of the Noctis Domain, Hare apparent of the House of Preatór, Advisor and Confidant to King Edmund Timur. Minister of Magic of the Iron Kingdom.”
The steward announced in the human tongue while she took the seat next to Edmund. There were a few new titles in there that she wasn’t aware of. She glared at her father briefly, restraining the urge to encase him in a block of Primal Frost. Her sister was the one to inherit their family’s Noctis holdings, not hers. And since when was she a bloody Minister of Magic? Humans couldn’t use magic, so they didn’t need such a position. She watched Somnitos closely, examining his body language closely while the other representatives filtered into the hall. Primarily those of the races who had taken a lesser part in the war, the occasional distinguished soldier or general and the like. They were of little interest to Nocturia since they would take a spot on the benches on either side of the table, their participation in the truce negotiations limited to a silent audience.
“Care to explain, father?” She asked in her native tongue to avoid unwanted ears. Few knew the language of the dark elves’ lower cast, and no outsider could understand the way the higher cast spoke. “I was under the impression that I was exiled for joining with the humans.”
“Not only you,” his voice carried less disappointment than usual. “You nearly cost our House everything, Nocturia. But your little rebellion has allowed our dear King the opportunity to stand with the victors.”
“Of course,” she chuckled mockingly. “Though, I do find it hard to see him from here.”
Somnitos let out a sigh, refusing to take the bait she had so generously dangled in front of him as if anyone could miss the towering form of a demi-god such as King Nox. To make her point, she only needed to look at the three-meter-tall King Lux, clad in armour made of bright light. Although, Nocturia had to admit that it was surprising that the master of the light elves had left the Golden City. Then again, all the representatives at the table were quite impressive, to begin with. She was surrounded by the likes of the Avatar of the Orc God of War, the lycanthrope High-Priest Iron-tooth, and, of course, the three bloody Demon Kings of Destruction, Fear and Hunger—all legendary figures and mythical beasts and utter cowards who preferred to hide while their people bled. The only reason Nocturia had a seat on the table was because she was the only survivor of the final battle with the Demon King of Hate. Well, technically, so was Edmund, but he was the chosen representative of the humans, so he didn’t count. And they called her kind, craven, backstabbing opportunists. The hypocrisy was strong with this lot.
“I’m to be King Nox’s proxy during the truce negotiations,” her father sounded a little too proud of himself.
“Ah.” Nocturia nodded before her eyes went wide. “Wait! What?”
“A Royal Decree.” Somnitos passed her the rolled-up scroll he had been absentmindedly fondling until now. "We’re now the House Vorso, except for you. You, my dear daughter, are now the head of House Preatór and all of its holdings of Noctis, which consist of your possessions, a small donation of tomes and a house I bought in your name here in the capital of the Iron Kingdom. It’s all in there.”
She snatched the item and began to read in haste, her jaw dropping further down after each line of the intricate script. This was insane. It was unfair. After everything she had done, they were punishing her. If it wasn’t for Nocturia’s so-called rebellion, the dark elves would be sitting beside the Demon Kings since most of the noble Houses thought they’d be the ones to win the war. Her eyes stopped on the last line, reading it over and over again to be sure she wasn’t hallucinating.
“I’m barred from returning to the Nightlands until I teach the humans magic!”
“No need to cause a scene, Lady Preatór,” her father kept a steady face while speaking with a mixture of smugness and vitriol. “Think of this as a reward for your childish tantrum. You got lucky, Nocturia. You have no idea how much was at stake, and you nearly ruined it all. Not just our family. Our entire kind was put at risk because of your actions.”
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“But this… This is too harsh. You might as well just kill me.” She hissed back at him.
“It was discussed.” Somnitos shrugged, making it clear that he was losing interest in the conversation. “But since we did manage to salvage something from this mess, King Nox chose to be lenient. And since you’re so eager to challenge his rule, all those who followed you and their families are now your problem.”
The sudden movement from the three Demon Kings prevented Nocturia’s protest. As one, all three mighty demons stood from their seats and dropped to their knees, horned heads lowered. But it wasn’t just them who acted strange; almost everyone at the table seemed agitated and unnerved. Even the bright armour of King Lux darkened to a dull glow. Immediately, the dark elf mage turned her head to the single empty seat as she sensed unnatural power gather there. A seemingly young man, or was it a woman, Nocturia couldn’t be sure, was sitting there. An elegant black and purple dress covered his body, exposing only his face. And what a face it was! Beautiful, maddeningly cruel, with a skin made of wax and molten honey. The scent of brimstone and lavender carried over to her as he exhaled slowly.
“Your Excellency! We were not informed of your coming….” The Demon Lord of Fear shook as he spoke before being silenced with a single gesture.
“Let’s get this over with. The Master would like a word with you three down in Hell.” The stranger’s voice was sweet and alluring, promising the pleasures of sins yet to be committed.
“His exalted Excellency, the Devil Oliver. Judge of Hell, here to represent the interest of the Infernal Pit.” The Demon King of Destruction rumbled like a volcano, introducing the stranger.
“That’s enough, Raktarion. No need to bore everyone.” The waxy skin on Oliver’s face cracked as he smiled. “Now, if you mortal things could be so kind as to tell me what to signs, or what oath to make, or ritual you have up here, that would be lovely.”
“It is not as simple as that, Lord… Lady… Devil Oliver.” Edmund answered, visibly shaking, and Nocturia had to admire his courage when all the other legendary figures were too busy admiring their hands or paws.
“But it is that simple! My dear,” a thick decrepit tome appeared in the Devil’s hand, and he quickly flipped through the pages before continuing, “human, yes. The demons lost. You won. They surrender unconditionally, and they’ll be punished accordingly. I sign in blood that Hell agrees, and we’re done.”
Oliver leaned back in the chair, gloved fingers drumming on the table. “You can deal with the details later. Simple. Right?”
“I…” Nocturia started, seeing that no one else was willing to speak. However, she was quickly silenced by a moan from the Judge of Hell.
“Fine. I’ll send a demon or something for that part; if it will make you mortal things, stop complaining. My allowed time here is rather limited, and honestly, I don’t care what happens to demons or their lands up here. Now, be a dear and tell me. Where. Do. I. Sign?”
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