#belar

Belar's fingers twitched on the hilt and his knife, but he did not draw it. Instead, he collected his lyre to busy his idle hands while the Urge thrummed in his ears.

"It is important that you understand," he said, plucking out an old composition, "that any esteem you believe yourself to hold in this temple is entirely out of your service to me."

"Of course, milord, I —"

"Father gave you the task of watching over me from afar as a child. To see to it that I indulged my nature and found my way to Him." Belar had no need to look at the strings as he played this song, an ode to his Father written long ago. At a measure pause, he looked down his nose at the little fiend.

"But I am no longer a child. And I have found Father." His eyes stayed on Sceleritas as he continued to play. "You have outlived your purpose. Every breath you take is by my grace. Every second of your continued existence is because of this strange, misplaced affection I hold for you. Were I in your place, I would be doing everything in my power to ensure that that affection does not wane."

With that, he looked back at the lyre, and the air was filled with only music.

And snivelling.

When Belar looked back to Sceleritas, his butler had pulled out a handkerchief to dab at his eyes. "Oh, young master is so eloquent! Not a threatening word, and yet murderous intent in every syllable!"

Glib. More glib than he would have expected of the creature, even in this instance.

"Your Father was quite unsure when you enrolled in that bardic college, you know, but I told him! 'Young Belar has such a way with words,' I said! 'He'll be a natural,' I said!"

Belar's fingers faltered once, twice. He put down his lyre. "Father... did not approve of my education?"

"I didn't say that," Sceleritas said, and, seeing the look on his master's face, hazarded a step towards him. "He merely... ehh... wondered, I should say, why young master would abandon his bow, with which he is so very talented."

"Abandon? But I —"

"— I know, milord, you never did. I doubted you would. I told your Father as much then." Sceleritas took Belar's hand firmly in both of his, looking him in the eye. "You are an excellent predator. The unseen stalker in the dark. You have killed so many from the shadows, but in truth? I was not surprised that you were not satisfied. You are the child of a god. You were made to be worshipped, young master. I think some part of you always knew that."

Gently, Sceleritas put the lyre back in Belar's hands. "Some part of you was always seeking the glory that you are due."

"... And you think Father understands?"