Demon's Throne

by K D Robertson

  “Taras, did you find them?” he asked.

  “We did, Lord Talarys. There are fifty of them in a clearing south of the road. We will need support,” Taras responded. “They are responding with force to any approach.”

  Rys checked his connection and confirmed that at least one Malakin had been banished already. No wonder Taras was so serious.

  “I’ll be there.”

  The Kinadain joined him, along with Alsia.

  The necromancers tried to flee, but the Kinadain proved why they were known for their hunting skills. Not a single one escaped.

  By the time everyone was captured and the battle finally over, the sun had set. Red rays cast a fitting color over the fortress, which had been turned into a butchery.

  Rys had defended his kingdom. In doing so, he had seen a glimpse of the power that humanity now wielded.

  It left him hungry for more. But for now, he was victorious. He had constructed his new kingdom and defended it from an invader.

  Now, he needed to mop up before the castle’s power drained away completely.

  Chapter 39

  “This is all of them?” Rys asked as he looked at the robe-wearing figures kneeling outside the fortress.

  Forty-two mages kneeled before him, bound and gagged.

  “Eight were killed during pursuit. Either in self-defense, or because of an accident,” Alsia confirmed. “Every survivor of the Malus League army is here.”

  A sobering fact. Of the 1500 soldiers who had marched on Fort Foret, only forty-two survived.

  The majority of the 1450 had been killed by the necromancers in front of Rys. The soldiers had no chance to surrender, flee, or be captured alive. Even by Rys’s standards, this was extreme.

  Philosophical discussions about whether it was ever appropriate to consider people as resources stopped well short of killing his own soldiers and turning them into undead monsters.

  Presumably, those soldiers had voluntarily fought for their country. They had been used as literal fodder instead.

  The deeply ironic part was that this made everything easier for Rys. Whatever his reputation was for being an infernal summoner, the Kinadain had seen how much worse the Malus League was.

  Now Rys only had to be better than the monsters in front of him. For now, at least.

  Fara and Jaime joined him. The anger exuding from the Kinadain elder’s face was palpable.

  “What were your losses, Alsia?” Rys asked.

  She closed her eyes. The Kinadain mourned their dead until they were buried. The warriors were taking it in turns to keep the deceased company inside the keep, until they could be taken back home in carts.

  Unfortunately, many would never make it back.

  “Thirty-one will return to the dains for proper burial,” Alsia said. “Another eighteen will be mourned here. Four more will be… brought back to Castle Aion for further consideration.”

  “This is a painful day,” Jaime ground out. “But we knew this when we came to battle the foul sorcerers from the south. Their magic taints us.”

  “And the Ashen’s magic?” Rys asked.

  Jaime looked away.

  “Those who were cremated by the Ashen during the battle will be discussed,” Alsia said, her tone heavy. “Infernal sorcery is not well regarded by the Kinadain. Normally, we would bury them where they fell, but given the circumstances, I feel that is deeply disrespectful.”

  “This is a new era,” Jaime said. “They deserve better.”

  The elder cursed in his native tongue, which Rys’s translation gift didn’t understand.

  The infernals had fared a lot better. Other than one of the Malakin, only a handful of demons had been banished. One had fallen permanently, to Rys’s surprise. A spell from an undead mage killed one of the lesser demons.

  True death was nothing new to infernals. They lived in Hell, where dying was normal.

  And, in true demon fashion, they celebrated death. Those demons closest to the dead demon slugged down as much of the strongest, harshest alcohol they got their hands on. Grigor and the noble demons joined in, and soon the demons were having what sounded like a party.

  But anyone who understood demonic heard the undercurrent of sadness to it. Demons had perfect memories. They spent most of their lives talking with each other, playing games, and passing the time.

  In this party, most of their stories were about the dead demon. They’d repeat every story a hundred times and embellish them to the point of absurdity. In death, this random demon would be better known than he ever had been in life.

  That left the fate of the necromancers.

  Rys stepped up to a mage who bore the most elaborate sigil on his robes. The others followed him.

  Alsia placed her sword under the man’s neck and tilted his face upward.

  “Speak, mage,” Rys said. “I’m assuming you can.”

  The mage licked his lips. Recognition lit up his eyes as he stared at Rys.

  Curious. He already knew what Rys looked like. Who had been talking about him?

  “I am Archmagister Tolin Forai of the Tower of Silver Bone,” the mage said defiantly. “Archwarlock Maliah of New Ahm created my tower personally, and he placed me and my disciples under his protection. Harm us and—”

  “Your archwarlock isn’t here and I am,” Rys said. He crouched down in front of Forai. “You know who I am. Don’t waste your breath invoking other authorities here.”

  Forai stared at Rys for several long seconds. “I can connect you with the archwarlock himself, King Talarys. Surely, you wish to speak with him, ruler to ruler?”

  “If I ever want to speak with another ruler, I can do so. But right now, I want to know why you attacked us,” Rys asked.

  “This land belongs to Compagnon,” Forai said, although fear sparked in his eyes as he spoke. “Until the Malus League recognizes your nation, King Talarys, I technically had the right to be here.”

  Rys almost laughed.

  “Insolent dog!” Jaime snapped. “This land has always belonged to the Kinadain and Ariadain. Those foul merchants stole it. King Talarys rules with our permission, and we do not need your approval to own this land.”

  Ignoring the idea that Rys ruled “by permission,” he stood and looked down at Forai. “Compagnon doesn’t exist anymore, Forai. I arrested their guild officers days ago. The Kingdom of Kavolara stretches from Port Mayfield to right here, and from coast to coast. We don’t need anyone’s permission to exist.”

  Forai’s eyes widened. It appeared that he was unaware that Aretiers had actually fallen. “Wait, wait, wait! We… We can come to an arrangement. I was promised a mage tower in Aretiers if I seized it for Maliah. I’m more than happy to serve you, instead, Your Majesty. My disciples are highly capable mages. I’ve been teaching them for years, and I’ve learned under Maliah himself. Surely, you recognize our immense power?”

  Rys did. As did everybody else, which was the problem. Forai attempted to claim that murdering his own army was an achievement. What a guy.

  Jaime cursed. Even Alsia scowled, and she glared daggers at Forai. Rys knew that if he wasn’t here, then Forai would be a headless corpse right now.

  “As you can see, you’re not a popular man, Forai,” Rys said.

  The mage looked around himself in terror, then back at Rys. “You use infernal sorcery, Your Majesty. You are like us! A true mage!”

  For a moment, Rys worried that Forai’s attempt to tar him with the same brush as the Malus League would hurt him. But the Kinadain’s expressions remained unchanged.

  “And… and, I can teach far greater things,” Forai continued. “I can reverse undeath. If I had won, then I would surely have restored the soldiers to life. Previous applications of my necromancy have successfully seen the subject’s undeath cured.”

  That stirred interest in the others. They looked at Rys in surprise, but appeared doubtful. Fara’s expression turned thunderous.

  “I’ve never heard of curing death itself,” F
ara said.

  “It is possible to remove undeath,” Rys said.

  “What?” Fara asked, betrayal leaking into her voice.

  “I’ve worked with powerful necromancers before. It’s not that uncommon of a skill among devils,” Rys said. “But the true devil is in the detail, pardon the pun. Necromancy can stop death, but it cannot undo death. At least, not permanently. Most cures to undeath involved cutting off the affected parts.”

  Forai’s face paled.

  Rys raised an eyebrow. Had the mage really tried to slip that past him.

  “That is how I have done it in the past,” Forai mumbled. “Cut off affected limbs and regenerate them with magic. But it does work.”

  “Your soldiers were dead, you monster!” Fara snapped. She scowled. “You slaughtered them all. There was no way for them to ever come back.”

  Forai turned to Rys, perhaps feeling that he was the best chance of survival. “You are extraordinarily knowledgeable about necromancy, Your Majesty. I sense I could learn much from you.”

  Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Rys made up his mind. This discussion had long since ceased to be useful.

  Although Rys had confirmed that the leader of the Malus League, the Archwarlock Maliah Jyarvic, had personally tried to conquer Compagnon. A predictable move, but it meant that Rys hadn’t lost his touch when it came to predicting others.

  “Fara, there are some allied mages in Anceston, correct?” Rys asked.

  “Maria has a few helping her keep the peace, but they aren’t combatants,” Fara said, unsure where he was going with this.

  “Ask them to go through Forai’s disciples to see if there are any that they might want as apprentices. Take everybody else—including Forai—to Castle Aion. Ensure that none come to any harm, for any reason. I want them safe and sound,” Rys said, tone steady and face expressionless.

  “Thank you graciously for your mercy and wisdom, Your Majesty,” Forai said, bowing his head and scraping it on the ground.

  Then Rys stepped away with the others.

  “That was a very neutral order,” Alsia said. Both she and Jaime watched Rys closely.

  “That’s because he’s a dangerous mage. He’ll be less trouble if he thinks I’m helping him,” Rys said. “I want you and Maria to publicly try and execute Forai and his disciples. I don’t care how you do it, or how you split the executions between the dains and Anceston. But they’ll be a reminder not to attack us, and a warning not to butcher innocents.”

  “The Malus League will be furious,” Fara warned.

  “And everybody else will know where we stand regarding them,” Rys replied.

  “As you will, Your Majesty,” Alsia said, excitement bleeding into her voice.

  Forai’s necromancy had rattled her. She had shown more emotion here than she had for weeks.

  With that settled, Rys left. He was pushing the limits of his ability to remain outside of the castle as it was.

  The following week flew past.

  Grigor cleared out the remaining pockets of resistance in Compagnon’s holdings. Recruitment for a proper military began, as well as guards for the kingdom. To avoid localized corruption, Maria took control of the guards and funded them herself using tax revenue. That allowed her to start rooting out the growing bandit problem.

  The demons concentrated on the borders and in Castle Aion. Most of them were happy to rest after so much excitement. Especially now that humans and demihumans were moving into the palace.

  Maria and Alsia executed Forai in Anceston after a very brief public trial. The rest of his disciples would undergo a more laborious process that would sate the Kinadain, as well as those angry at Compagnon. With the guild officers locked up in the palace dungeons, there hadn’t been any blood for those who had suffered at the hands of Compagnon.

  Forai made for a good substitute. Everybody knew about the connection between Compagnon and the League after Tarmouth intervened.

  Rys even made an appearance at the hanging, but kept to the shadows. This was an opportunity for Alsia and Maria to win over the public and strengthen their positions as duchesses.

  To him, it looked like the entire city turned out to watch Forai hang.

  While the death sated the people, it also served as a reminder to Rys not to get too comfortable. He felt uncomfortable callbacks to the fall of the Infernal Empire. How many of the wealthy had been slaughtered in the streets once the infernals vanished?

  The fury of the masses showed itself in Anceston. Rys satisfied it with Forai’s body, banishing it for the time being, but it would return.

  But, for now, Rys had achieved peace.

  Although he still had some matters to settle at home. The burial rites of the Kinadain had unearthed a troublesome matter, and Rys needed to speak to Alsia about them.

  Why did the Kinadain fear the taint of certain magic so much?

  Chapter 40

  Sitting in his office, Rys realized his current challenges were over.

  He had crushed Compagnon, gathered loyal allies, built his own kingdom, regained some of his lost power, and repelled an invasion attempt by his southern neighbor. Some of the women around him were even interested in him, and one of them relished her chances to be pressed into the carpet of his office.

  A knock sounded at his door.

  “Come in,” he called out.

  Alsia entered. While in the palace, she wore simpler clothes now. Today, those consisted of a white lacy top, her red cloak, and a black pleated skirt with pantyhose. Her shoes were simple flats. Somebody had braided her blonde hair.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, patting her braids.

  He couldn’t recall her ever asking him about her appearance before.

  “The better question is: do you?” he asked.

  Alsia stared at him, then sighed.

  He chuckled. “It looks good on you, Alsia. But you don’t need to do up your hair unless you want to.”

  She gave him a small nod, then fell quiet.

  While Maria had yet to properly move in, due to how busy she was in her duchy, Alsia lived here now.

  That came with consequences, Rys had discovered.

  For one thing, the Kinadain made the palace livelier. If he entered their wing, there’d always be something happening. They didn’t know how to be quiet. Or perhaps they didn’t care.

  The warriors also spent a lot of time practicing outside, and they slowly began to accept the demons in their sparring after the battle at Fort Foret. Every morning was filled with the clatter of weapons and the grunting of dozens of soldiers.

  But the most interesting consequence had been the steady trail of applicants to work at the palace. Vallis had privately made some enquiries for administrative staff at Tarmouth and with some of the larger merchants in the region. But the palace also needed more mundane staff.

  Cooks, primarily. The Lilim were functional cooks at best, but they only knew how to copy things they already saw. And the imps intentionally burned Vallis’s porridge once and had been banned from every kitchen in the palace.

  That incident had irrevocably altered the hierarchy of the palace in the eyes of the imps. Vallis had become bossbossboss, because she was more important than everybody other than Rys so far as they were concerned. Even Grigor was merely bossboss, after Vallis’s tantrum.

  At some point, Vallis was going to find out about the non-existent imp union and the way it influenced the imps’ behavior. Rys really wanted to be a fly on the wall when that happened.

  So, the palace needed cooks. Somehow, word had gotten out.

  And the demihumans practically lined up at the palace’s door for work. Rys had been dumbfounded when he woke up one day to find a Lilim leading a dozen demihumans in maid uniforms through the palace’s corridors.

  For one thing, why maid outfits? Who approved those? Did somebody think he had a fetish for them?

  Initially, the demihumans came because of Alsia. Although more than one snuck into Rys’s bedro
om and tried to get a promotion using their backdoor. Rys turfed her out.

  If she wanted sex, that was one thing. But he wasn’t giving her the expectation of special treatment because she spent some time polishing his cock. It would set a bad precedent.

  That, and Rys realized that he was going to be busy enough in the future. Maria didn’t take up much time now, but both Fara and Vallis had made their interest clear. He wasn’t sure if Tyrisa’s interest was genuine, given how she tended toward idol worship.

  And he planned to do something with Alsia, eventually. That was a fairly busy harem. His palace staff could remain palace staff—presumably to the relief of most of the demihumans who came to work here.

  An annoyed voice breaks intrudes into his thoughts, “I thought you weren’t thinking of marriage? When did that change?”

  Rys looked at Alsia. She was leafing through the dense stack of marriage proposals he’d shoved to one side of his desk.

  Sighing, Rys plucked the piece of paper from her hands. He batted her hands away from the pile when she tried to take another. This proposal was like all the rest.

  A young, pretty demihuman girl from the Tolaran Federation, which was the nation that controlled the central island of Dalyros. Emphasis on girl. Not a single invitation involved girls over the age of eighteen.

  “The Tolaran Federation switched targets after I told them how strict the requirements were to be considered for your hand in marriage were,” Rys said. “They’re all like this. I’m not sure if they genuinely want me to marry one of their nobles, or they’re trying to drown me in paper.”

  “She looked cute,” Alsia said.

  “I spend decades as the pet of the most beautiful woman in existence. Cute doesn’t quite cut it,” he said flatly. “They’re fishing. I wonder if I’ll get a hundred invitations from older women next week.”

  “Unlikely,” Alsia said. “The Federation marries early. It’s common to arrange marriages for political reasons. When I visited, almost everyone my age was married unless they were a Sage or in the military.”

  “Ah, that explains a lot.” Rys stroked his chin. “Can’t say they interest me. None of them are powerful mages, either. Do they marry as well?”