RE: Monarch

The abandoned house Kilvius selected for the meeting put us deeper in Topside, farther from my father’s reach. Yet the interior still felt cramped. Kilvius himself as well as a handful of others waited in the adjacent room, while me and Maya sat on one side of the table.

Some of the discomfort I was feeling was from the cramped space. Most of it was directly sourced from the being sitting across from us.

Alongside Vogrin, Ozra, the Archfiend of the Asmodials was within arm’s reach. In human form, he appeared as a grizzled middle-aged man, his muscled frame giving the impression of a well-kempt craftsman or retired soldier. His long dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, and in an odd reflection of the fateful day we struck our pact, his dark eyes were transfixed on the memory orb in his hands.

“I should be angry with you, for bothering me with this.” He said, continuing to focus on the sphere as he rotated it in his hands.

“Perhaps.” I agreed.

“Other Arch-Fiends would consider this so far below them that it would be perfectly acceptable to slaughter you on the spot for even proposing it.”

There was a reactive clink of metal as every other person in the room tensed at the explicit threat, while I forced myself to remain relax and unbothered.

“They might.”

“Typically, I would not so much as entertain the idea. I am of course a being of great import.”

“You certainly are.”

“The hells are rather dull as of late. They attack us, we win. We counterattack, they stalemate. Everyone licks their wounds and bides their time, separating to various corners while whatever boorish spawn develops to create the next generation, waiting to fight over the same territory, over and over.” Ozra rubbed his face, then looked over to Vogrin suspiciously. “Did you tell him I was bored?”

“No, your eminence.” Vogrin lied.

“The answer should be no.” Ozra frowned in consternation, as if surprised at himself. “Yet… I have not visited the human cities in over a thousand years. Triple that, by invitation. And perhaps I am in need of a change of scenery at the very least. However.” His tone dropped, and an air of danger enshrouded the room. “This role you’ve chosen for me…”

I braced myself, praying Vogrin wasn’t off the mark and I hadn’t miscalculated.

“It is delectable.” Ozra finished, as he rubbed at his shoulders and shivered in glee. “Delightful. Dare I say, even a little diabolical. Not since my youth have I had the pleasure of toying with a king. And this king?” He caressed the orb with his thumb. “Oh, what fun we’ll have.”

When it sunk in, what I was about to unleash on my father, there was a degree of guilt. But when I reminded myself what he’d done to Sera, and the sheer terror that had to be coursing through Annette at this very moment, that guilt magically went away.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Do not misunderstand. I am not some simpleton for you to manipulate.” Ozra suddenly glared at me, hands gripping the table between us, changing tact too quickly for me to keep up. “I am aware that you are only resorting to this as a method of leveraging the artifact you traded, an artifact that may I remind you, belongs to us.”

“There’s truth to that.”

Stressful as it was, facing down an arch-fiend, it helped that I’d done it before. There was a certain rhythm to negotiating with Ozra. Aggression was counter-productive. He was simply too ancient to be leveraged or bullied. What worked best was more akin to a slow seduction, letting him work out the benefits of an offer before an even bigger reveal. Not unlike the way the demons themselves operated. After all, evil attracts evil.

“The first time was free. If I asked to use the scepter again, it would cost me. That much is undeniable.” I steepled my fingers and smiled, leaning forward. “But there’s far more to it than that.”

“Oh?” Ozra matched me, leaning forward. His manner bordered on mocking but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it. He wanted to hear what I had to say.

“I could do it myself. That was always an option. I’m not a terrible actor—in fact, I think I’m rather skilled.”

“Passable.” Ozra commented. When I raised an eyebrow, he continued. “Better than average in terms of commitment, but there are several biological tells you are unlikely to overcome in a mortal lifespan.”

The perfect setup. I jumped on it without hesitation, ratcheting up a sense of manic glee I didn’t feel. “Exactly. If I did it myself, it might throw him off. Perhaps even unsettle him. But the King is a resilient man.”

“And how much sweeter would it be to shake such a man to his core.” Ozra finished.

“It only makes sense to turn to the most magnificent liar I know.”

Ozra worked his jaw and leaned backward as the chair creaked beneath him. He looked away and smiled. “Had you asked for his defeat, or some other overwhelming form of assistance, I would have denied you. But this is far more interesting.” He looked up, mentally tallying. “Instead, you have given me a chance to see a capitol city again as a guest, meddle in the affairs of kings, and inflict an unspeakable cruelty on a fascinating target. It is a precious gift, and I’m tired of pretending it’s not.” He stared me straight in the face. “I will not forget it. Now name your terms.”

There was the catch. No informed individual, be they god or man, was insane enough to strike a deal with demons in an uncontrolled environment. As a mortal, it didn’t matter how smart or methodical you were. There was always some catch, some loophole left unconsidered. And demons had been exploiting those oversights for centuries longer than any of us had been alive.

This matter seemed relatively small, especially for a being as powerful and ancient as an arch-fiend. Because of that, I wasn’t sure that Ozra would try for a deal. But Kilvius was, and had argued fiercely enough to that effect that it’d momentarily stumped me.

Until his daughter offered a solution.

I caught Maya’s eye and nodded, signaling her. There was a shuffling of parchment and she leaned forward, slamming a contract taller than a tome on the desk in front of Ozra.

Ozra pouted, turning a woeful look towards me. “Have we built no trust between us?”

“On the contrary.” I smiled a thin line. “Our previous dealings underlined the importance of upholding such traditions. And I do not have the hubris to negotiate an oral contract with a being as cunning and timeless as you.”

“Yes, yes, your flattery is noted.” Ozra rolled his eyes as he placed a pair of gilded spectacles on the bridge of his nose. Then he leafed through the first few pages of the contract, seemingly in disbelief. “Still, considering the rushed circumstances and what I observed from the orb, I’m shocked you put this together so quickly…” He trailed off, turning a few more pages. “Is this boilerplate?”

Maya leaned back, arms crossed in front of her. It wasn’t uncommon for her to grow stoic in a crisis, but something about her demeanor now was different. As if she was carved from ice. “It is a generic contract, yes. A tailored variant of a document I prepared for this exact sort of occasion.”

Ozra squinted, his page turns accelerating until they were little more than a blur. “Even for an infernal, you are very well-prepared. Not to mention annoyingly thorough. Though some of these are reaching. Come now, we haven’t attempted to stake a claim on a firstborn through summon-rights in over a thousand years.”

“Forgotten trends often return to circulation at unexpected times.” Maya shrugged.

“And this entire section on chronal magic is nothing more than a flight of fancy.” Ozra stopped mid-page turn. Slowly, he looked up at Maya, turning the full intensity of his gaze on her. “Or is it?”

Maya was too experienced to let the shock show. But I could tell Ozra had caught her flat-footed. Even by demonic standards, the way Ozra was picking through a contract for a relatively simple matter with a fine-toothed comb, seemingly in seconds, couldn’t be accounted for. There wasn’t time for me to read through Maya’s entire contract, but I could guess what happened. She’d snuck something in that protected not only the current reality, but the subsequent loops as well.

And Ozra caught it.

I spoke up, letting annoyance cut through my tone. “The greater enemy has made several comments that belie the possibility of such power. Future sight, as well as a more limited ability to jump through time. We are simply accounting for it in advance, ensuring that unexpected complications do not cause issues with the contract should they arise.”

“But you have nothing in stone?” Ozra questioned.

“Not at this time.”

“From extensive research, it is most likely a bluff.” Maya added.

Ozra moved on, seemingly content with the answer. “Well, seeing how you have an entire subsection on patechistic runes—which are even less likely to exist—I’m inclined to believe you. Still, the thoroughness and knowledge this contract implies is astounding. Do you practice Contract Law as a vocation?”

“My mother did.”

“The sharp little counsellor from the cave, of course.” Ozra realized, brushing the feather-side of the pen along his lips. “And what Legion did you say you were affiliated with, girl?”

“I didn’t.” Maya said coldly.

The arch-fiend’s nostrils flared. “Hellhound. Their stench is recognizable anywhere. Vile as they are, I can’t help but feel a degree of sympathy for them. Stupid creatures. With your intelligence, you must have negotiated them all the way back to the first circle.”

“We reached a satisfactory accord.” Maya continued to stonewall.

“Come now.” Ozra rested his chin on his palm and leered. “This contract is your soul laid bare before me. I can feel it through every brush stroke, ringing out clearly between each carefully forged line. The sheer avarice for power.”

I wanted to intercede. Maya had seen the truth of what happened in the Enclave, the callousness with which the Asmodial Legion had slaughtered her friends and family across countless loops. But if I spoke up now, it would only encourage him.

Ozra continued. “Has their upper echelon even seen fit to greet you in the flesh? Acknowledged the prize pearl nestled in his palace of mud? Does he… know?”

Maya stiffened. “It was my assumption that arch-fiends seldom have the time to toy with mortals directly.”

Instinctively, I gripped the sides of my chair. Whether it was a ploy or out of her own well-earned dislike, Maya was bordering on rebellious arrogance. It wouldn’t cost her immediately. Drawing from our previous encounter, Ozra seemed to like that sort of thing. Find it novel.

At least, until he didn’t.

For the moment, Ozra seemed unbothered. “Let’s make a wager.”

“No.”

He made a frustrated huff. “A non-binding wager with no actionable outcome.”

Maya hesitated for a second too long. “I’m… listening.”

Ozra rattled off the wager, as if he’d planned it from the start. “The hellhound arch-fiend is distastefully enamored with me. Bordering on obsessed, really.” His voice took on a mocking, bestial overtone. “‘Show me what you’ve learned over the last century, Ozra. How long before our legions clash in glorious battle, you shadow-addled coward.’” He shook his fist derisively, voice returning to normal. “And on, and on, and on. Irritating enough that I’ve acquiesced on multiple occasions, but crushing him seems to only encourage the behavior. Point being, our paths in the hells often cross. It would take little more than a few choice words to draw his attention to a clearly undervalued asset.”

“That seems… unbelievably benevolent.” Maya hedged.

“Perhaps. But assuming my evaluation is correct?” Ozra continued, low voice rumbling. “Even if Phaedron rolls over and plays dead in renegotiations, offering you every resource at the Hellhound legion’s disposal, eventually, you will find them wanting.”

“And if I do?” Maya asked, the question barely more than a whisper.

“All I ask is to be considered.” Ozra placed the pen down and steepled his fingers. “Should you wish to change your allegiance, the Asmodial Legion is prepared to buy out your contract, providing you with the same benefits the Hellhounds did and more.”

“Including a powerful generational summon?” Maya challenged.

Ozra’s eyebrow twitched, but he nodded. “Of course.”

“To be clear. All you’re asking is that I consider the Asmodial Legion as a first choice, if I’m looking to cut existing ties?”

“Simple as that.” Ozra shrugged. “We both know there is only one legion that can offer what you truly seek. What you desire most. And should you seek to attain it, you need only ask.”

“I’m not there yet.” Maya snapped.

“But one day soon, you will be.” The statement had an air of finality to it, as something unspoken passed between them.

Whatever the truth of the subtext was, the offer was a double-edged sword. A prohibitively dangerous one at that. There were a litany of infernal ballads and dramatic renditions of legends that explored in harrowing, painstaking detail, exactly how badly life went for mortals who had the misfortune of drawing the attention of an arch-fiend. The tragic heroes center stage in these tales tended to be brash and foolhardy, but even those who weren’t made some key mistake that cost their souls in the end. And if I knew that from my brief time immersed in infernal culture, Maya did too. She was just winding him up, playing along until he signed. After all, she’d seen what I traded. What saving the Enclave cost me. There was no way she was considering this seriously.

Right?

“I accept.” Maya said. She’d shifted slightly, and the fire-pit cast a shadow over her face.

Unable to hold it in any longer, I stood. “Maya—”

She held out a hand. “Later, Cairn.”

Ozra grinned devilishly, withdrew a stack of papers from beneath the table and slid them over to Maya. “Very well. I suspect you’ll be hearing from Phaedron soon, shortly after my return from this much needed vacation.”

Immediately Maya’s expression grew unreadable. “We agreed the wager was non-binding.”

“You were about to ask for the guarantee in writing, were you not?”

“…Yes.” Maya hesitated, looking it over.

Ozra leafed to the end of her contract and signed it, then stood from the table, stretching out his arms “Well, this has been fun. Really ought to do this more. My devout are more than competent, but delegating everything is so boorish.” He looked at me and grinned. “For that matter, I need to get changed. If I get too lost in the weeds and miss the main event, I’d never forgive myself.”

“The King is more clever than he appears.” I warned. “All it will take is a single misstep, and he will know the truth of it.”

“Then I will strive for the straight and narrow path.” Ozra winked. “So. Which of your companions will be joining me, for this doomed mission?”