Topher felt, inexplicably and very unreasonably, disappointed.

Traveling through a skeleton portal into a black tunnel of infinite undeath which, in turn, emerged into the realm of the demons should have been dramatic and harrowing, but had mostly been pleasant and efficient. The land of the demons, which he had expected to be a nightmarish horror place of dark clouds and twisted bones and riven flesh, was currently experiencing a warm and sunny afternoon, with little puff-like clouds scooting adorably across the cerulean sky. Though the actual castle itself -- hundreds of feet of blackened and twisted metal walls and protrusions like claws and fangs -- was at least suitably gothic and terrifying, the rest of the demon lands were almost objectionably idyllic, with flat utilitarian buildings in every direction and a preponderance of very normal-looking humans (or at least humanoids, if they were the unmasked demons he guessed them to be) striding purposefully about at various errands. There was even a young man rather expertly kicking a ball against the wall of a nearby building, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

A short distance ahead of him, a small table had been set up -- Suzume and Zashe were deep in discussion, while a prim-looking young lady with spectacles and a pencil skirt took dictation and made innumerable notes which would, Topher imagined, eventually coalesce into some sort of peace treaty or surrender document or something. He had tried to be engaged in the process at first, but his mind was elsewhere (mostly worrying about Zanasha and, to a lesser extent, Hana and the others) and this stuff was fantastically boring in any case, so he had eventually shifted his efforts watching for threats to the king. Then, after about two minutes of that, he realized that he had no ability to really protect the other man in any case if anyone wanted him dead, so instead he just gave up and watched the clouds go by.

As he focused on a particularly plump nimbus and tried to decide whether it looked more like a worm or an elephant, something hurtling towards him caught his peripheral attention; flinching, he brought his hand up and reflexively halted its motion with a recursive swirl of reversed inertia via his Attract Object Skill. The ball spun furiously, skating along a spatial manifold, about a foot from his face before dropping out of the air and bouncing away; annoyed, he looked up to see the young man who'd been kicking it before slouching up to him with an apologetic expression.

"Sorry," the kid mumbled, looking up at Topher sourly; he guessed the young man was about seventeen, with long and curly whitish-blonde hair that was currently pulled back into a sort of bun-slash-ponytail. "Got away from me. You human?"

Topher blinked, then nodded with a snort. I guess the youth are a plague in any race. "Guess you don't see a lot of us around here?" The kid -- young man, I guess -- was a little shorter than Topher, with clear ice-blue eyes and the sharp-edged features common to most of the demons' humanoid forms; he chewed on a retort, swallowed it, and flicked his eyes away in search of his lost spheroid.

With a flex of his will, Topher pulled the ball into his palm, then offered it to the teen; the kid grimaced and accepted it, then began bouncing it from one knee to the other as he peered over at Topher curiously. "What's it like in human lands? Do humans really tell stories about killing all the demons?"

Topher chuckled. "Sure. You guys tell stories about killing all the humans?"

"Sometimes," the youth admitted. He kicked the ball up high, then deftly caught it on the top of his head and balanced it there unsteadily for a few moments; eventually, it rolled off, and he caught it under one arm with a negligent twist of his elbow. "I'm Ko. What's your name?"

"Christopher Bailey. But my friends call me 'Topher'." Topher shifted back a little bit, enjoying the warm sun on his exposed bald head and face; he started to worry about sunburn, remembered that his Wyrd probably made him immune to that, then relaxed a little more. "As for what it's like in human lands -- basically the same as here, I guess. People working jobs, trying to keep themselves and the people they care about healthy and happy."

The young man nodded, then looked over at the table where Suzume and Zashe were sitting. "Do you think there will really be a peace? I mean, you guys killed a lot of our families and stuff." He paused, cocking his head in thought, then looked back at Topher. "And I guess we killed a bunch of yours too, right? How do we get past that?"

Topher shrugged. "I dunno. One hard conversation at a time, I guess." He followed Ko's gaze to the others, nodding. "They seem to have a good start on it. I'm a lot more worried about what happens afterwards." They stood in silence for a few minutes.

"You know," said the teen, slowly and with careful thought, "I used to always think grown-ups had everything figured out. Trusted that the people who were responsible for things would take care of them and that everything would work out." He stared hard into the distance, no longer seeing the peace convocation in front of him but gazing at some unknowable thing only he could behold. "I don't think that kind of thing anymore."

Topher pondered this. "Kid, when you were little, did you think people your age had it all figured out?"

The youth hung his head and shuffled his feet, sighing. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Adults are just kids with more experience, right?" He closed his eyes. "But it's one thing to know it and another to have to really deal with it."

Topher nodded. "It really is. And I imagine being the Demon King doesn't make it any easier."

The teenager whirled, looking at Topher with shock, but he just stared back, smiling. After a moment, the young man rolled his eyes and let out a breath of frustrated dejection; then, as Topher watched, his bearing straightened -- his face firmed up as the slackened jaw acquired steel, and the hands which had been lazily shoved into his pockets rose elegantly into a much more poised and practiced pose. "Well, damnation. What gave me away?"

"Your Status," Topher admitted. Over time, he'd been discovering by degrees that he didn't have to actually visually inspect the Status of things; by this point it was almost an unconscious awareness. "I couldn't sense Suzume's either, but I can tell the young lady helping them with the document is some kind of high-Level administrator Class. So the options were either that this random delinquent talking to me had the special ability to hide his Status, or that you were somebody in disguise -- and real teenagers either hang out with their friends or want to be left alone." He chuckled, remembering as much of his own adolescence as he could without venom; it was slowly getting easier.

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Ko -- Kholoth, actually, I guess -- nodded and looked vexed. "Your Disrupt Illusion Skill made it particularly challenging in any case -- I do have the ability to alter how my Status appears to others, but I couldn't risk that it would be compromised. You have no idea how challenging it was to procure these garments."

Topher had to laugh. "Not your typical look, huh? Well, you pull it off okay."

Unexpectedly, the monarch beamed -- a pure, uncomplicated look of gratitude that struck Topher obliquely. It took him a moment to figure out; but when he did, his jaw dropped open in shock. "Jesus Christ. You really are a kid, aren't you? Like, close to Suzume's age? How the fuck is that possible?"

"I am seventeen winters," the Demon King agreed, turning back to look at the proceedings once more. "My father -- Jorakh Rael Keshnagon -- was Monarch of Fire before me, and my grand-sire Venax Rael Kheshnagon before him at the time of the Sealing. He slumbers still, though the chirurgeons have little hope of reviving him now. Sustained hypoxia."

Topher blinked. "What, you mean, he's in a coma or something? How would he still be alive after that long?"

"My people grow more powerful with age, not more frail as yours do," Kholoth answered, turning back to Topher with an apologetic expression. "Nevertheless, we have our own idiosyncracies; our children are fewer, our births more perilous, and our bloodlines complex to manage effectively." He shrugged. "Still, in many ways, we are more alike than different now; though I am told it was not always the case, I am young and have never known the world of my forebears. My mother and father perished in rebellion against the True Demon Lord when I was very small; it seemed foolish to oppose him after that, so I simply did not do so."

Topher winced in sympathy. "Explains why you let your advisors run the show, then. Can't fault you, kid; but I think you're pretty brave to be making a stand now."

Kholoth shrugged again. "You have given my betrothed reason to believe that it is possible, and so I will cast my lot -- and my people's -- in support of her. Time will tell if it is wisdom or folly; nevertheless, my options were few, and I judge this to be the best of them." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then his gaze refocused once more. "Peace, if it comes, will surely be preferable to war for at least a little while; whether or not it can last is not my decision alone. But whatever comes, your efforts have at least made the attempt possible. I am grateful." He raised his hand, taking a half-step forward as he presented it for Topher to shake.

Topher, following the innate social programming of the American male, stepped forward and clasped the offered hand firmly; but instantly, a powerful shock surged through him, tearing through his palm and into his whole body with with titanic, irresistable force. It seemed strong enough to scatter his bones to ash with the merest sliver of its might, but he withstood it effortlessly despite the horrific agony; his Wyrd preserved him even as he glimpsed, with his peripheral nervous system rather than his eyes, the mountainous and galactic power which coiled restrained within the slender young man in front of him.

There was a moment of tension; then, the force eased, dwindling and withdrawing as Kholoth looked up into Topher's eyes with reluctant resolution. "I am sorry. I had to be sure."

Topher dropped the young man's hand, shaking his stinging hand and wincing. "No harm done. I probably woulda done the same in your case." He paused, letting out a breath. Ouch, though. "Trust, but verify, huh?"

Chastened, Kholoth nodded. "Indeed. It is one thing to join my strength to my bride's in support of a goal which may preserve my people; but it would be folly to do so without supporting evidence." He turned away, gazing off into the distance towards the north. "Still, you may require more than fortitude; I am Level 9999, but it is likely that the True Demon Lord is much more powerful still -- and worse yet, his intellect far surpasses both my own and that of my queen. I admit that I cannot conceive of a way in which we may yet defeat him; but if one impossibility has become possible, it is not too much to assume that another may also."

Topher sputtered. "You're Level what, now? How the hell is that possible at your age?"

"Bloodlines," the monarch responded imperturbably. "Demons pass a fraction of their Levels on to their children; additionally, the Demon King Class grants me the Levels of all my subjects as well, though at diminishing returns." He winked. "Otherwise, the transition of power between heirs might be somewhat perilous, yes?"

"Uh, yeah, a little bit." Topher decided not to bring up the entirety of human history as a supporting point, and moved on; he marveled at the implications of this information. "I guess that would explain why humans seem really weak to you. Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't wipe us all out a long time ago if you have that much of an advantage."

"We had our reasons, not least of which that we were not the uncaring and ravenous beasts your folklore purports." Kholoth shifted, looking slightly fatigued. "But there are others. As I said, our numbers are fewer and replenish much more slowly; and, with the devastating losses of the recent battle, our population may face significant logistical challenges for quite some time. If we survive this war, we will be in for quite a struggle simply to avoid becoming an endangered species."

"Hey." Cautiously, Topher placed a hand on the young man's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner; Kholoth twitched, but did not attack or otherwise protest. "We'll help. If there's gonna be a real peace, it can't just be us asking, right? You trust us a little, and maybe it'll help us trust you."

Kholoth nodded; behind the clear blue eyes, Topher could see a vast and deep intellect working, but he said nothing. Topher let go of the young man's shoulder, and the two of them stood without speaking for a little while longer; then Topher looked over and noticed that Kholoth was gone.

He stood alone for a little while longer, trying to digest everything he had heard while his body hummed and buzzed with the aftereffects of Kholoth's massive discharge of destructive power; nervous, he kept checking and re-checking his Wyrd for damage, but it was so fractally complex and so interwoven with his own being and perceptions that it was like trying to analyze the blood vessels on the backs of his own eyeballs, and after a while he gave up.

Eventually, sunset approached; he was almost shocked when Zashe stood (a little unsteadily) and shook Suzume's hand warmly before Topher could stop him. Topher winced, but no correspondingly vicious annihilation occurred; Suzume simply returned the handshake and smiled prettily in a way that both boiled and froze Topher's blood, but the king seemed to take no notice. As Topher ran belatedly up to assist, he turned and leveled a weary but satisfied smile in Topher's direction. "Master Bailey. It seems our business has concluded; the young lady says that she will return us to Strathmore, if you are ready."

Topher blinked. "Strathmore? What about the others back in the Sanctum?"

"Them? Quint rescued everybody, like, hours ago. They're all back there too." Suzume was abruptly standing near Topher's right elbow, leaning with exaggerated sloth upon her large skeletal staff; he flinched, recovered, then sighed as she looked at him quizzically. "Are you okay? I could have gotten you a chair or something if you needed it."

Topher rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, kid. But the king is probably pretty bushed."

"I am fatigued, yes; I do not have enchantments to preserve my stamina as you both appear to." Zashe grinned manfully, but the bags under his eyes were almost worryingly deep in the light of the setting sun. "Although in the young lady's case, perhaps it is just the flower of youth."

Topher snorted. "You know, one time, I met this guy who was worried he wasn't up to doing this really, really important job, because his Class didn't let him shoot fireballs or look into crystal balls." Swiftly, he muttered the runes for Remove Fatigue and touched Zashe's forearm; the king gasped, then straightened visibly as Topher winked at him. "Turns out he was a pretty strong-willed and brave dude who didn't need cool powers or fancy tricks to make the world a better place. Who knew?"

"Who indeed," Zashe muttered as Suzume opened the portal before them.