by Akella, G.
My reverie was broken by a demanding knock on the door. Strange—who could that be? My audience with the Overlord wasn't until tomorrow, and no inn staff had ever knocked on my door before, let alone in this manner. No, the inn's staff were clearly modeled after some five-star hotel back on Earth—quiet and unassuming, almost invisible as they went about their jobs. Which included cleaning your room, a service which I had refused since private rooms self-cleaned automatically. Workers of the world's oldest profession? They existed here, but they didn't go around knocking on doors. This wasn't Thailand, where I had gone on a business trip once. It was a beautiful country with lovely people... But the very first evening I had five different hookers knock on my hotel door. Now, I'm no Puritan, but I also wasn't your typical road warrior itching to let loose away from home—I'd already had all the women I could handle back in Moscow. So, whenever I did go anywhere on business, I mainly focused on business—that and fighting jet lag. But anyway... I got up, finished off the remains of the cognac, and made for the door. Did it really matter who it was? Even if Ahriman himself! I'd just invite him in for a drink. Boozing with the Overlord would surely be an honor.
Alas, it wasn't the ruler of Balliose and Alcmehn that stood in my doorway, but judging by the ceremonial armor worn by the grim-faced level 450 tifling, he had come directly from the big boss demon.
"Prince Urad Zakir," he nodded a greeting, sizing me down with his penetrating dark yellow eyes. "Ahriman the Overlord of Alcmehn has ordered to have you delivered to him immediately, prince."
"Why the rush now?" I grunted. "I've been waiting for an audience for twenty days."
"The paperwork only got to the secretariat an hour and a half ago," Zakir responded calmly, ignoring my sarcasm. "And less than an hour since the Overlord saw it. Now get ready, we mustn't keep him waiting."
"I've been ready," I shrugged, coming out of the room and pointing at the staircase. "Come, prince, I've gotten pretty tired of waiting myself."
Father is furious, Jaelitte said as I followed my high-profile escort down the stairs carpeted with a velvety red fabric. There's no other explanation for summoning you so quickly.
Is that your way of expressing concern for my wellbeing? I asked my spouse.
Think what you will, she replied at once. But I would strongly recommend against delaying with the story. I know how much you enjoy going off on tangents, but believe me, this is not the time for it. Countless demons have died in my father's stateroom for far less than the murder of a lord of one of Alcmehn's dominions... The demoness paused for a moment, then added indignantly. Ugh, I'm even starting to talk like you! For shame!
Just you wait—I'll teach you far more exquisite phraseology once we have some free time.
Just make sure you behave in the stateroom, she ignored my quip, as expected. You may be a right bastard, but I can't help but feel indebted to you.
That's good to hear. Now, what's the appropriate address for father-in-law in Alcmehn? Would 'dad' work?
You really are a bastard! Jaelitte sighed and was silent.
Waiting outside the inn's gates was a carriage, surrounded by twenty or so level 400 punishers on crocs, paying no mind to the pouring rain. Were they here to hunt me were I to attempt a getaway? Nah, they wouldn't be crowding the inn's entrance if that were the case—at the very least, they would be guarding all the exits. Then again, how would I know if there weren't more of them guarding said exits? At any rate, whether this was an honorary escort or an assault team, I felt flattered. How many guests of the capital merited such a grand reception? A battalion of professional killers led by a bloody raid boss!
Climbing into the cabin of the local Rolls Royce equivalent, I opened the hood of the cloak I'd prudently thrown on, and discovered two more tifling punishers apparently riding with me. Their insignias were concealed by their own cloaks, and their names and levels were hidden, giving me yet another boost of self-worth that I didn't think could possibly climb any higher.
Keeping a brisk pace, we made it to the palace of Alcmehn's ruler in about fifteen minutes, with the carriage moving along the pavement as smoothly as a sports car over an iced-over salt lake. Nobody in the carriage uttered a word throughout the entire ride. The tiflings lounged in deceivingly relaxed poses, while Prince Urad Zakir leaned back against the leather bench and closed his eyes, creating the illusion of sleep. I wasn't fooled, though—no doubt he was reporting somewhere up the chain on the status of the barbarian prince being delivered to the Overlord for dinner. As a special delicacy, most likely. The only ones clearly suffering were the punishers riding on either side of the carriage—well, them and their crocs. There always had to be a loser in life, after all. But then, I was thinking from my own vantage point—what if winter was considered the best season by the locals, and escorting a carriage in the pouring rain was the best kind of joy ride? As for the crocs, didn't they descend from frogs at some point? I couldn't be sure—biology wasn't my forte. Either way, surely they didn't mind a little water.
I couldn't get a good look at the palace park and its vicinity as the carriage breezed through it, pulling up under an awning outside of a tall double-leaf door. A service entrance? Not like I cared either way...
What I saw next was straight out of a fairy tale. The wall art alone from the entrance to the Overlord's small chamber amounted to two hundred and seven pieces! And among those were authentic, hand-painted art! This was my area of expertise, after all. Then there were the statues, decorative armor and vases... And this was from the freaking service entrance! I resolved to return here after rescuing my wife for at least a few weeks, and have her act as my guide. I doubted it would take any less time than that. Oh, what dreams are made of...
The doors to the Small Presence Chamber, which had taken us no less than fifteen minutes to reach, looked to be forged from mithril or at least its alloy. My escort pulled on one of the handles, and the door slid open effortlessly. He gave a nod, inviting me in.
"Go on in, prince," he said quietly.
I nodded in return and peered into his eyes. No surprise—he'd already pegged me as a dead man. Or was I seeing things?
"Don't worry so much, prince. I'll be all right," I sniffed and, turning the ring to hide the gemstone—I didn't feel like flashing that card just yet—walked through the open door.
Were those words of reassurance meant for him? Or for me? I wasn't sure...
"Prince of the Free Princedom of Craedia, Krian!" the voice of the demon standing at the entrance echoed throughout the hall, giving me a start. I looked over the space and whistled in spite of myself. If this was the Small Presence Chamber, its Great sibling could probably serve as training grounds for a tank battalion. The room was roughly the size of a football field, and every crack and crevice of it was flooded with light from enormous crystal chandeliers hanging from the tall ceiling. They reminded me of chandeliers from the Bolshoy Theater, except these were clearly amplified by magic. Some fifty yards ahead stood the throne—massive and dazzling to match the chamber—with a smaller throne next to it, and twelve more a bit further back. I guess when the Throne Attendants are done attending, they become Throne Sitters? I chuckled to myself
He never removed it... The sorrow in Jaelitte's voice gave me chills—I'd never have imagined that my wife was capable of such deep emotions. Leaving her without a response, I made for the throne at a casual pace.
Ahriman wasn't alone. Besides the shrieker stationed at the door, there were two other individuals in the chamber, both of whom were familiar to me. And if the six-and-a-half-foot-tall demon standing on the Overlord's right I had only seen in his combat form that was twice his current size, the chief searcher of Balliose Dominion hadn't changed a bit in the past two hundred and eighty years. Saad Khor's expression displayed total and complete boredom; the chief searcher's shone with sparks of curiosity; and Ahriman's... How was it that some creatures could look so bloody majestic? Comparing impressions made on any sentient, Ahriman would leave
any god I had met in the dust, if not all of them put together. On the other hand, gods were of a different ilk, and probably didn't give a damn about making impressions, whereas for the ruler of an enormous land who commanded dozens if not hundreds of subjects on a daily basis, it was essential. All three were unfriendly to me, and Ahriman had popped his Aura of Might to boot, the one Jaelitte had mentioned to me. Before we even got to talking, no less! If it weren't for my maxed mental resistance, I'd be either running in fear like a headless chicken or groveling at his feet. He must have been expecting it, too. Fat chance, asshole!
"Greetings, Overlord of Alcmehn!" I kept my tone purposely chipper, nodding as I came to a stop within ten yards of the throne. At once I felt a hostile magic wash over me, and fought hard to keep the rage inside me from storming out.
"Lord Yllial's Slayer," though seemingly quiet, the voice of the demon sitting up on the throne, all black with titanium accents, induced shivers. "You dared demand an audience with me? Your arguments must be sound indeed if you wish to depart from this chamber alive."
Well, I hadn't exactly expected to be welcomed with open arms and fed royal pastries. In fact, this was more or less how I had imagined the audience would start, and yet... Feeling the aural influence and hearing the threat addressed to me directly, the human inside me relented, and all my plans went straight down Hart's shitter...
"Do I hear you threatening me, Overlord?" the Black Demon inside me rapped out, having ousted the human from my consciousness. "After letting a den of snakes plot treason right under your nose? Or letting your vassal conspire with the Twice Cursed God to capture your daughter and execute your companion?! And now you're threatening me, after I've destroyed the traitorous scum and prevented the other scum—the same one who had tortured and murdered Jaelitte—from materializing in Sarykas, the capital of Rualt?"
"Allow me to kill him, Overlord," Saad Khor glanced at his superior while taking a heavy step toward me.
"You've already tried killing a human mage once, general," I laughed in the punisher's face. "There were seven of you, in fact. How about a one-on-one duel with his apprentice?"
"Enough!!!" Ahriman roared, his feigned calmness gone in the blink of an eye. "Speak!" he added, leaning forward and peering into my eyes.
Finally getting my rage under control, I continued in a calm tone:
"I am a dreamer, and I saw that battle. I know how Ruad Haas met his end..."
"Hart! I know what happened to him without you. Tell me... tell me how my daughter died."
Now, I readily admit my fondness for improvisation, but I sensed quite clearly that this wasn't the time for it—frankly, I was a bit amazed that I was still alive after that tirade...
"Your daughter isn't really dead. You and your searcher were wrong—the ring was never destroyed. As for the chalice, the mage could have simply taken it with him."
"What did you say??!!" the rage in Ahriman's voice was tinged with hope. "Do you know where it is?! Where... is... the ring???!!!" the Overlord literally roared into my face.
Man, was I glad to have my mental magic resistance! I shuddered to imagine what would happen to me now without it as Alcmehn's Overlord's emotions washed over me, settling on my shoulders as an unbearably heavy burden. Breathing became a struggle, but I dug in and found the strength to turn the ring over on my finger and stick my hand out, demonstrating it to Ahriman.
"Here it is," I said, trying to keep my voice level. "And your daughter... she is now my wife."
The Overlord's gaze almost fused with the red gemstone on my finger, as searing pain shot up my arm.
It's all right, Jaelitte reassured me at once. Hold on just a little bit longer.
I'm getting sick and tired of all this masochism bullshit! I thought, grinding my teeth through the pain, but after a few short moments it was all over. And I do mean all over: my arm was no longer being torn asunder, and I felt free, as if a lorry filled with wet sand was thrown off my shoulders. Even the pulsating aura beating at my brains was gone.
With a nod, Ahriman fell back in his throne and closed his eyes wearily. Prince Sajtore just stood there, frozen with shock.
"Jaelitte... sweet girl... she's alive?!" Saad Khor gave the ring a dubious look, then looked over at his ruler. "But—"
Your reputation has increased. Ahriman dar Rakata, Overlord of Balliose and Alcmehn, relates to you with respect.
Your reputation has increased. Residents of Balliose Dominion relate to you with reverence.
You know, I think you and father will get along just fine, I heard Jaelitte chuckle in my head.
That depends on how many more instances of "hold on just a little bit longer" are in my future—and if I survive them.
Did you think being a prince and an Elder Demon would be a cakewalk? she asked, the mockery back in her voice.
I didn't think anything! I'd sooner—
Good, then, the demoness didn't let me finish. I spoke to father, and he will help you. So you'd better rejoice and appreciate having me at your side.
You cannot imagine how joyful I am, I mimicked her tone. In fact, ever since you came into my life, it's been nothing but peaches and roses.
That's what I like to hear! Jaelitte smirked. I promise you, it'll only get better from here.
Oh, I don't doubt that for a second. But wouldn't—
Later! We'll talk more later. Talking to father has drained me of virtually all my strength, she cut me off and fell silent.
I'm fine with later, I thought with a shrug, then raised my eyes to Ahriman. The Overlord sat there motionless on his throne for a while, then raised his hands to massage his temples, drew a deep breath, and opened his eyes at last.
"Dismissed, both of you," Ahriman turned to his Throne Attendants. "And you... You will come with me," he grunted, much like your typical sentient, and started toward one of the doors.
"So Jaelitte is really alive?" Saad Khor asked loudly, giving me a suspicious look.
"Aye," said the Overlord without turning around. "And this upstart prince really did save my daughter's life. And he really is her husband..."
"Well, I'll be!" The punisher general cracked a wide smile—who could have imagined that this monstrosity was capable of smiling—and gave me a smack on the shoulder.
It was a wonder I managed to stay on my feet.
"Thank you for Jaelitte, prince!" he bellowed, his deep voice booming with joy. Then, with a wave to Sajtore, he made for the main entrance to the chamber.
Your reputation has increased. Prince Saad Khor, commander of the first punisher legion of Balliose, is friendly to you.
Your reputation has increased. Prince Sajtore, head of the searchers division, relates to you with respect.
Here it was—yet another step taken, yet another line crossed. And for the very first time, I felt like the finish line was almost within striking distance...
Epilogue
It was a small windowless room, with walls of earthy brown hues, a desk with a high and comfy armchair, illuminated by four magic lamps, which served as the reading hall in the private library of Alcmehn's Overlord. Ahriman hadn't allowed me into the actual library—apparently, a dreamer had no business being inside it. So, it's Saardak Ar-Kilat's Travel Notes that's on your reading list? No problem, you'll get it. But no, you can't go inside, sorry. He and I were set to meet again tomorrow, after I reviewed all the information I needed and settled on my next steps. There wasn't any point in talking until then—my lady's father was a practical demon who wasn't accustomed to wasting time.
After our audience in the Small Presence Chamber, he had led me here without delay, exchanging but a few words along the way. And it soon became clear that the Overlord was well informed of all my recent—and not only recent—adventures. How was it possible to learn all of that in the span of a few seconds that my arm was burning? I suspected the answer lay in the different, slower passage of time in the pocket of reality where my wife presently resided. This was, after all, a
magical world, and any phenomenon that transcended familiar laws of physics could be attributed to magical influence or, as a last resort, to divine intervention. Then again, was that really so different from the old world? I recalled a time in my past life as a manager having to review a typical contract of a metallurgical company that was among Fortune's Global 1000. And there was a Force Majeure clause in that contract that included an "act of God"... I couldn't vouch for the soundness of mind of whoever had drafted that contract, but it certainly wasn't atypical. Compare that to a world where the existence of gods was an indisputable fact, and you needn't bother with any explanations. At any rate, the more Ahriman knew about me and my business, the less time I'd need to spend explaining things to him tomorrow. I sighed, took a swig of cognac from the flask, and shot a dubious glance at the leather-bound notebook lying on the desk, brought to me by a spindly wizened tifling five minutes ago. Oh, how badly I didn't want to open this damned thing! Just as badly as I wanted the second fragment of the scroll to be somewhere nearby. I'd had enough of all this adventuring! My weariness was exacerbated by the stress over Aunt Tanya not answering her phone lately. I wasn't worried about Max—I knew him better than to doubt him or his ability—but the redheaded beast that I had the dubious pleasure of calling my sister was capable of bewitching just about anyone, let alone her boyfriend, into making all manner of irrational, downright foolish choices. And the fact that I'd asked her to stay put and wait for me... I knew my little sister better than that, and that knowledge was like a millstone around my neck, growing heavier by the day... But enough whining! I snatched the notebook off the desk and turned it to page one: "Dear friend! If you're reading these notes..."