The Lord of Demons

‘I was going to say that there is no need for revenge, but I’m guessing me saying that will do little to get that idea out of your head. So I’ll be waiting nervously to see what you come up with,’ he replied, grinning slightly - as slightly as ever the Demon Lord was able. He nodded when Marius called the collection of suits for what it was: impressive. Seven-hundred years, he imagined Semiel joking that this was his legacy. Too many suits to count.

“Points for creativity, then – you got them,” he laughed, pleasantly surprised by the turn the conversation had taken. “As I said, lord, there’s no need to fear! It’ll be some real amazing piece of revenge-focused, uh, revenge, I’m sure. It’ll be something real creative as well, rest assured.” With that, he turned his attention to the suit once more.

‘Thank you for those points,’ he mentioned. ‘Can I exchange them for something?’ he asked. He watched silently as Marius undressed further to fit the rest of the suit. He looked a bit uncomfortable, but the way the pants were almost a perfect fit. They didn’t seem too big or too small, maybe just a little bit too small. Which showed off his impressive sea legs. 

‘Very true, but when I see what Torque is able to do, and remember the stories from the Magicians of old, I can’t help but think of all the things they were able to do back then. Curiosity probably, or jealousy,’ he admitted. He felt the dialogue was getting tiresome, so he was happy when Marius said nothing more on the subject, and he too let is slide. He didn’t want to be locked in an argument with the Captain, that seemed like the sort of thing for war counsel, not… personal visits.

With a surprised laugh at the Demonlord’s tone, Marius teased, “In that case, rest assured that my revenge shall also be well-meant, lord.” Nevertheless he happily followed along behind Varamadras, until soon enough they came to a halt in front of what turned out to be an astoundingly large closet. For a bit there Marius simply stood there, boggling both at the size of the thing in general but also at the variety of suits found in it. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly he’d expected, but it sure as all shores wasn’t such an extensive collection. “Impressive,” he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath at the sight. 

‘I was going to say that there is no need for revenge, but I’m guessing me saying that will do little to get that idea out of your head. So I’ll be waiting nervously to see what you come up with,’ he replied, grinning slightly - as slightly as ever the Demon Lord was able. He nodded when Marius called the collection of suits for what it was: impressive. Seven-hundred years, he imagined Semiel joking that this was his legacy. Too many suits to count.

She was right, of course, he knew that. He shouldn’t try to change the past, it was no use. Even if her being her was a glimpse at it: his troubling past. She was all of that, maybe just a piece, but right now, her being her meant his past was looking at him. It felt very unreal, no matter how real the embrace was. 

Briefly Lass considered untangling herself from Dras’ arms, but it was simply too nice a feeling, to stand here with the one she had loved–still loved, as even the gods could not take that from her. At his skeptical tone she began chuckling, and once she started it was suddenly very difficult to stop smiling – it felt nice, too. Like she was properly alive again. “It really doesn’t, does it? And it only gets worse when you realize that the gods must have done it on purpose. I do wonder if the other Shini are facing the same problem, though.” But although it would make a lot of sense to go speak to Michael about it, Lass felt no compulsion or motivation whatsoever to actually go to him. Another trick of the gods? She thought so but again, didn’t found herself caring as much as she knew she should.

Her laughing as she stood so close to him sounded wonderful. It felt as if whatever thing was dividing them, stood a little less firm. He breathed in her scent, and a familiar smile crept on his face. ‘They probably are. And the Gods probably did. I’m pretty sure they enjoy watching us scramble and be in pain because of their actions. We’re a good drama show to them.’ 

Varamadras grinned a bit when Marius reacted defensively. ‘I’ve never known the Magicians of old, to be honest,’ he said. ‘But I know much of what we knew about the limits or our Magic, and how we are limited we are now.’ He looked at his tea for a moment. ‘I didn’t call you second-rate though, that would include calling myself second-rate as well.’ He smiled softly. ‘And I guess we’re doing better, considering the circumstance. Certainly better than the Knights.’ 

“With all due respect, lord, knowledge alone is a poor point of comparison – anyone can say that in the old days the limits of magic were greater than they were now. There’s no one around to disprove it, after all!” Almost reflexively he picked up his cup and drank another sip of tea, frowning, more to shut himself up and stop arguing than anything else. “As long as we’re still doing better than the Knights I suppose it’s all good, either way.”

‘Very true, but when I see what Torque is able to do, and remember the stories from the Magicians of old, I can’t help but think of all the things they were able to do back then. Curiosity probably, or jealousy,’ he admitted. He felt the dialogue was getting tiresome, so he was happy when Marius said nothing more on the subject, and he too let is slide. He didn’t want to be locked in an argument with the Captain, that seemed like the sort of thing for war counsel, not... personal visits.

Varamadras had been very certain from the moment word of the Shini reached his desk, that this had been set up by the Gods. Which Gods he was uncertain about, and whether it was to spite him or to - as was the job of the Shini - to deliver an important message. Whichever it was, their being here could not mean anything good. As fools who lived as long as he himself had knew: the Gods were supposed to be neutral. During the Angelic Wars they had been, and since then in any other war only few Gods had taken sides. His immortal enemies had been three of them: Groun, Fira, and Smara. But there was no way in Out of Time that they had anything to do with it: they were dead as far as Gods could be. 

His first reaction to Varamadras’ small excourse was a scowl, and he subsequently quickly bit down the remark that immediately came to mind – Marius was not of a mind to pick a fight right now. Instead, he inclined his head and gave a dismissive shrug, deliberately careless. “Bit harsh to call all of us second-rate, lord, don’t you think? The magicians of old might’ve been stronger, but the way I see it, we’re doing better than them – sure, yes, our magic ain’t as flashy, but we’re also not taking nearly as many casualties, are we?” 

Varamadras grinned a bit when Marius reacted defensively. ‘I’ve never known the Magicians of old, to be honest,’ he said. ‘But I know much of what we knew about the limits or our Magic, and how we are limited we are now.’ He looked at his tea for a moment. ‘I didn’t call you second-rate though, that would include calling myself second-rate as well.’ He smiled softly. ‘And I guess we’re doing better, considering the circumstance. Certainly better than the Knights.’ 

‘I could’ve stopped you from going,’ he said simply, though he knew she was right. Even if he had asked her to stay behind, she would’ve probably gone anyway. There was no running away from their responsibilities. 

“You couldn’t have, and most of all you didn’t, so there’s no use arguing about it.” She hoped Dras wouldn’t press the point, because that was then and long done with and as Lass had already said, there wasn’t much about it she regretted. 

She was right, of course, he knew that. He shouldn’t try to change the past, it was no use. Even if her being her was a glimpse at it: his troubling past. She was all of that, maybe just a piece, but right now, her being her meant his past was looking at him. It felt very unreal, no matter how real the embrace was. 

“How far do you think I could get west before anyone notices I’m missing? I think I could at least reach the mountains.”

Depends on what routes you take and how many people you tell about this plan of yours, don’t you think?

Varamadras was for a moment calculating in his own head whether Marius had known Lass, if she had been alive at her time, her age of the Black Dragon Magicians. He guessed he had been. To him, all the years, all the faces, all the deaths and all the friends blended together. He only knew a clear distinction between before this new war and during the last. 

For a moment there, Marius had been sure – feared, more like – that Varamadras was genuinely worried about Jewantes. His lord had so many other things to worry about, primarily Orractous and the deaths of the recent battle, and to have another worry heaped on top of that? That, plus the real awful timing in general of the Shini appearing right on the heels of a devastating battle – Marius wasn’t prone to ascribing any sort of deliberate involvement in happenings to the gods unless it meant he could curse them for it, but this whole affair reeked of the sort of calculated, aloof meddling he figured the gods were all too fond of.

Varamadras had been very certain from the moment word of the Shini reached his desk, that this had been set up by the Gods. Which Gods he was uncertain about, and whether it was to spite him or to - as was the job of the Shini - to deliver an important message. Whichever it was, their being here could not mean anything good. As fools who lived as long as he himself had knew: the Gods were supposed to be neutral. During the Angelic Wars they had been, and since then in any other war only few Gods had taken sides. His immortal enemies had been three of them: Groun, Fira, and Smara. But there was no way in Out of Time that they had anything to do with it: they were dead as far as Gods could be. 

Varamadras shook his head. ‘Not even a bit,’ he said back, trying to throw some joke back, but it sounded weak. He was pretty sure he didn’t feel like joking. 

It really did feel as if it had already been half an age since Michael had died, and Marius imagine it must feel even worse with Lass, who really had been dead for quite a while. And Jewantes–well, yeah, Jewantes. A lot of old resentment lingering there, but he’d given the matter some thought when he’d first heard just who the other Shini were, and here at least Marius was certain that he could reassure Varamadras.

Varamadras was for a moment calculating in his own head whether Marius had known Lass, if she had been alive at her time, her age of the Black Dragon Magicians. He guessed he had been. To him, all the years, all the faces, all the deaths and all the friends blended together. He only knew a clear distinction between before this new war and during the last. 

He had no idea what Ream would try, but he couldn’t think about the possibility that she had an idea that they never tried. He had to know if it could work or not. ‘I have no idea, but who knows,’ he stated. He ignored her what if maybe because he didn’t want to think about it himself. 

Ream knew she was useful and she did a lot for her people, after all she didn’t become part of the Elite for nothing. But sometimes she wished she could do more, like those who had an active kind of magic. So she needed this, she needed to be able to help Varamadras and Orractous.

The atmosphere around the two of them changed right away, the room itself was a stunning image, there wasn’t a sense of death, but of life flying by without any spark. Orractous’ life was being wasted as he laid there, unable to move, to speak, maybe even to think. His life stood still, but he would age nonetheless. His health would slowly decrease. Varamadras had seen it before, coma’s that lasted for years, leaving nothing behind. 

Varamadras could heart he faint whisper, and he nodded in response. He could sense the feelings she had regarding that fact, and he felt similar. ‘It’s what Lukas thinks,’ he concluded. Whether it was true or not was something only Orractous knew. ‘It’s worth a try,’ he repeated, and it was. Whether it would give them anything or not, at least this little flare of hope would be something he could remember. And he hoped it work, he so desperately hoped it worked. 

The possibility of Orractous doing this to himself made it a bit more difficult. What if she actually managed to get into his head somehow, but he didn’t want her there? What if she did manage to cause any harm? What if Orractous defended himself and manged to hurt her in some way? Although getting hurt herself was the least of her worries. Her priority was Orractous’ safety and Varamadras’ comfort. 

He had no idea what Ream would try, but he couldn’t think about the possibility that she had an idea that they never tried. He had to know if it could work or not. ‘I have no idea, but who knows,’ he stated. He ignored her what if maybe because he didn’t want to think about it himself. 

Tea it was. Varamadras walked over to the kitchen, and examined whether the hot water he had created earlier was still considered drinkable. He passed it as a yes, poured two mugs, and carefully placed some mint leafs in the warm water. Then he walked back into the room. He placed the mugs on the table and gestured for Marius to sit down. The man looked rather down, but he guessed they had nothing to look up about. As well as the fact that he seemed not to looked rather comfortable around the room. He wished he could make Marius feel more at home, but he didn’t know why. Except for the tea. 

The tea was good, and hot, and Marius settled back on the couch with his fingers wrapped tight around the mug. “No time for the not-so-dead, eh?” Maruis asked, but without much bite to it.

Varamadras shook his head. ‘Not even a bit,’ he said back, trying to throw some joke back, but it sounded weak. He was pretty sure he didn’t feel like joking. 

He wanted to go over to her and embrace her, wash away all those years that had passed, try to forget… to forget everything. But whenever he found himself locked in stare with the paintings of dead Generals, he found the memory of them so vivid he had to look away. But he couldn’t look away from Lass, he was so stunned to see her. To see how she had not changed even a bit. 

“Sorry for what, Dras? That I died? There was nothing you could have done,” she told him, nodding sadly at him as he moved closer. “I didn’t–I didn’t want to go, of course, but in hindsight I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

‘I could’ve stopped you from going,’ he said simply, though he knew she was right. Even if he had asked her to stay behind, she would’ve probably gone anyway. There was no running away from their responsibilities. 

Varamadras awaited the explanation, pretty surprised to know there might be something he could do, they could do. He found himself giddy, or maybe not giddy, but at least hopefully. ‘It sounds… I had a conversation with Lukas about it, and he thought it might have been a self-induced coma, something that drove Orractous to go into a coma. I know a lot about his Magic, but I’ve never heard of something like this… I think it’s worth a try.’

The girl chewed nervously on her lip. It was her idea, but that didn’t make it better. Her decision or not, there was pressure on her, the kind she didn’t had to deal with ever before. “He did this to himself?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. The thought scared her. What could have been so bad, that the boy did this to himself? “Even if we don’t find out anything… at least we can say we tried. And my magic… even if we fail, I can’t do any damage.” That was something she wasn’t so sure about, but admitting that know wouldn’t have been the best decision.

Varamadras could heart he faint whisper, and he nodded in response. He could sense the feelings she had regarding that fact, and he felt similar. ‘It’s what Lukas thinks,’ he concluded. Whether it was true or not was something only Orractous knew. ‘It’s worth a try,’ he repeated, and it was. Whether it would give them anything or not, at least this little flare of hope would be something he could remember. And he hoped it work, he so desperately hoped it worked.