“Stop it,” Yuna snapped. “We will just leave in peace, Sire.”
“I see. In that case, I shall rescind the laws that make your classes capital offenses within the Empire,” Maximus smiled. “As I have seen firsthand, members of your classes are not inherently evil, as my forebears thought.” After a brief pause, he continued, “I will go one step further: I will grant to you each a boon, or to your children if you never claim it.”
“Thank you, but we will not be coming for the boons,” Yuna said as she summoned her steed. “Though we might come to Stormguard in the next few days, to see our old home.”
Bowing his head to them, Maximus smiled. “Give me until tomorrow to strike the laws, then you shall be free to visit as often as you like.” Turning on his heel as Steinberg also summoned a mount, the Emperor went back to his men.
As they rode away from the dead, Steinberg let out a deep breath. “Sorry, Yuna. I just look at him and all I can see is the revulsion of the Empire, and all the death that has come from it.”
“I understand,” Yuna said. “Come now, let’s make it to town for the night.”
~*~*~
Weeks later, Yuna and Steinberg visited the Dark Lord in pursuit of the quest Yuna’s armor granted her. Eyes wide as they entered the throne room, Yuna looked toward the throne, which was shrouded in shadows. Following their guide to the stairs, she took a knee before the throne, followed by Steinberg. “Dark Lord, I have come, as the quest granted by my armor directed…”
“I have been waiting,” the Dark Lord chuckled. “You did the right thing with Emperor Maximus Lightbringer,” he added. “I hoped for years that something would happen to remove the blade from my followers’ throats. I must give you both a reward worthy of what you have done for me.”
“Dark Lord,” Steinberg said suddenly, “why have you not intervened all these years?”
The shadows surrounding the throne darkened. “I have been restrained from acting, Steinberg Franklinson. I have languished as the years passed. Today, though, I get to thank you both for helping to ease the way for Summoners and Necromancers to return to the Empire.”
“Dark Lord,” Yuna said softly. “We do not seek any reward—”
“I know, Yuna Demonchild,” he cut her off. “My reward is a series of quests to lead you toward a more fitting reward.”
“Ah, so not a gift on a platter,” Yuna nodded. “I prefer that.”
“I am aware,” the Dark Lord chuckled. “Let us focus on the here and now. You shall be the first to receive this gift from the armor.”
Mother stepped forward from the shadows beside the throne. Yuna and Steinberg stared as she swayed toward them down the stairs. “Inside this vial is the blood of the Dark Lord,” she said. “It will change you into a Half-Infernal. The change is painful and unpleasant, but the gifts that come with it are worth the momentary discomfort.”
Yuna accepted the vial with wide eyes. “I shall be changed with the blood of the Dark Lord?”
“Yes. No other has received this gift—all other Half-Infernals changed in this room came about from the blood of lesser Infernals.” Mother knelt next to Yuna. “Drink, and I will be here to keep you safe.”
Steinberg felt calm as he watched the woman he loved down the vial of blood. When Yuna went rigid, he caught her and cradled her head in his lap as she went through minor spasms as the change began. Her skin took on a red tint, while her body became slightly taller and more densely muscled.
Mother helped tone down the pain that filled Yuna’s body, while also keeping Steinberg calm. The Dark Lord leaned forward as he watched the first transformation with his blood. When Yuna finally seemed stable, he sat back with a sense of accomplishment.
Eyes opening, Yuna found Steinberg above her. “That was painful, but I can feel the new power in me.”
“We have prepared a room for the night,” Mother said as she helped Yuna to her feet. “Come, let me show you the way.”
~*~*~
Sitting on his throne, the Dark Lord smiled as Yuna and Steinberg went back to the rest of the world and the quests he had given them. Mother took a seat on his lap. “You seem quite happy today.”
“She will be the first,” he said with a smile. “I can’t wait to see the tantrum from Justice when she gets the full set.”
“You’ve grown more bitter toward him, since Stein,” Mother said as she stroked his hair.
“He condemned all of mine to death on discovery,” he growled. “Why would I not harbor resentment for that?”
“What should he have done then, dear? The majority of those that followed Stein were Necromancers and Summoners, and everyone forgets that other classes followed him as well. They only recall hordes of undead and Infernals, even if those Infernals were at the lowest reputation possible with their Summoners.”
Sighing and pulling her tighter to him, the Dark Lord held her. “Things will get better. I need to hold to the belief that this is just the first step.”
“You’ve said that ever since your armor was accepted by the Overlord,” Mother said as she nuzzled his neck. “Did she say something?”
“Only that all the pain and hardship will be repaid,” he said, feeling her influence calming him. “You wish to distract me, hmm?”
“Well, we’ve had guests for the last few days, and very little time for us,” she breathed, placing a soft kiss on his neck. “Maybe we can finally have our time, please?”
Standing up with her in his arms, he laughed, “No wonder my Summoners always fall for their Succubi.”
“I can’t help that they take after me,” Mother giggled as she continued to kiss his neck and chest.
~*~*~
Sitting on his throne, the Dark Lord smirked as Justice paced back and forth before the stairs, his tirade slowly winding down. “You just wait, brother, she won’t let this stand. I’ll have the match for your Demon Lord soon.”
“As I’ve been saying,” the Dark Lord chuckled, “the Overlord has already told me that you won’t be getting a match to the Demon Lord.
“Preposterous! We are to be equal in all things!” Justice yelled.
“Then when will your followers be hunted down and slaughtered by their fellows?” the Dark Lord roared as he got to his feet. “It wasn’t bad enough that my followers were condemned and ridiculed, following Stein’s unwarranted attempt to overthrow the empire. No! You had your followers hunt mine down, to be put to the sword even if they weren’t a Summoner or Necromancer!”
The air crackled between the two, streaks of light and darkness flaring into being between them. “Stein was one of yours, brother,” the last word was spat with venom. “Don’t keep trying to deny it. I will petition her to appear later, so she can rectify your gross misstep.”
A bright flash directly between them made both of the gods recoil. “Children, stop it this instant,” Victoria chided both of them. “Justice, your brother was telling the truth; you will not be given a being to equal the Demon Lord. They can only be created by the Demon Lord’s armor; no birthing will result in a new one.” Turning her gaze to the Dark Lord, her lips thinned. “Stop fighting with him. You know he will always respond with aggression.”
“But he started it…” the Dark Lord began before he trailed off.
“Really? You want to be that much of a child?” Victoria sighed. “I’m almost regretting my plans. If you two don’t learn to be civil to each other, I will take steps. Do you understand me?” The question carried the weight of doom, and both of them quickly agreed. “Good.” Turning back to Justice, Victoria continued, “The children of Yuna and Franklinson will be coming to your ruler soon. He is to grant their wishes without qualm or complaint, so make sure it happens. Two-souled will start appearing in the world in time, and they will change things. The world will become chaotic and fast moving when they finally appear. They will come in two waves. The first will be lost in all ways and will need help. The second wave will be more permanent, and they will be your gr
eatest allies... or possibly your worst foe. Nurture them, so they don’t turn against you. Make sure your followers know this. Understood?”
“Yes,” both of them replied with bowed heads.
With another flash, Victoria was gone and the two stood there like awkward teens. “I still don’t agree with her, but it looks like you are right, for once,” Justice sniped. “I’ll oppose your Summoners from gaining that armor again. I can’t destroy them, nor will she let me lock them up, but I will do all I can to keep another Summoner from ever bringing that armor set together again.”
“I will help them find the armor. Never so much as to make her mad, but I will have dozens, if not hundreds, of Demon Lords,” the Dark Lord said imperiously. “Now leave my halls.”
“It’s not like I would ever want to stay in this perverted place,” with a flash of gold light, Justice was gone.
“Both of you almost brought down the wrath of the Overlord,” Mother said as she stepped out from behind the throne.
“No, she was merely irked,” he replied. “I fear what would happen if she ever truly became upset.”
“Do you really think you’ll have hundreds of Demon Lords?” Mother asked.
“No, but I might have a few dozen in time,” the Dark Lord sighed. “We must do our best to help others find the armor pieces. The Overlord gathers them after each ascension, and places them back in the world. She will let me assign a single quest at a time, unlike when I gave Yuna three quests all at once. Even then, I’m sure that my chosen will be able to gather them.”
“I hope so, dear heart,” Mother said softly.
~*~*~
The Dark Lord sighed as he finished walking down memory lane. “Alburet might be the first in an age, and the Overlord said he would be the last to ever touch the armor, as all of the other sets are being removed from the world, with lesser armors taking their places.”
“He only lacks one piece,” Eve reminded him. “He is on his way to find it now. I’m surprised she didn’t balk when we gave him a piece.”
“So am I,” the Dark Lord murmured. “There is something about him, though, that seems to resonate with me. He seems to be unusually favored by the Overlord. You said that she appeared when you went to help him with his mind. I can never recall her stepping in to help a mortal before, much less a Two-souled.”
“Never has one of our daughter’s children become a full Succubus before, either,” Eve said softly. “Alburet moves in circles above what one of his kind should, I think. He has gathered around him a family worthy of even you.”
“Yes, and does that not strike you as unusual?” the Dark Lord said. “Three talented, beautiful, and fiercely loyal women have all bound themselves to him. His Imp and Destroyer are both borderline reverent in their awe of him. I wonder what she has planned for him? It will be something groundbreaking, and I wonder if we will survive.”
Shivering in fear, Eve clung to him. “You scare me, dear.”
“I am scared as well,” he whispered as they held each other in the throne room.
Skippy’s Tale
Watching his brother leave the estate, Skippy felt the same old hatred well up within him. “How many times, Wilbur? How many times do we need to tell you that you are harming the House?” The words were said to an empty room, as disagreements in front of the staff were not supposed to happen.
Leaving the library, Skippy walked down the halls and headed for his room. Bad enough you idolize that dead fool, Lord Theron, he thought. Why would you do that, when you know it was Father that helped disgrace the idiot’s House? Shaking his head, Skippy pushed the thought from his mind. He was sure that he was slowly wearing down his brother’s stubborn refusal to give up his position in the guard.
Hours later, Skippy was interrupted by a knock at his door. “Sir, you might want to know that your brother has just been brought home by a fellow guard, and seems the worse for wear,” the butler, Jackson, informed Skippy.
Frown forming, Skippy got to his feet and followed the butler to the first sitting room, where Wilbur was laid out on the sofa. Another guard was squatting next to him. “Wilbur, did you hear me?”
“What happened to my brother?” Skippy demanded of the guard.
Getting to his feet, the guard turned to Skippy and bowed his head. “Sir, Guard Gilden has been given the day off by Captain Roberto. He is not to return to work, and is to think about why it is not his place to make decisions for his superiors.”
Skippy’s nostrils flared. “Did you just say that a Captain of the Guard outranks a noble?”
“No, sir,” Steven said, looking directly past Skippy into the distance. “I said that a lower ranked Guard doesn’t outrank a higher ranked Guard, sir.”
“Trash,” Skippy sneered. “We shall take care of him. You may leave.” When Steven tried to go past Skippy, the noble held out a hand to stop him. “A moment, I wish you to take a message to the Captain.”
“Always glad to help, sir,” Steven said evenly.
“I trust you can remember a few sentences, so I don’t have to write it down?” Skippy asked disdainfully.
“Yes, sir,” Steven said through gritted teeth, now finally understanding why Wilbur had reacted badly to being called by his twin’s name.
“Good. Relay the following message to the Captain for me: ‘Captain, my brother is not your underling, nor do you have the authority to order a Noble as you wish. As Wilbur Gilden is likely to turn in his notice tomorrow, you shall not have to trouble yourself much longer.’ Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Steven managed with difficulty.
“You are dismissed. Go find some riffraff to help,” Skippy said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Turning his attention to Jackson, Skippy sighed, “Take him to his room, and make sure he understands what transpired.”
“As you wish, sir,” Jackson replied. “Shall I escort our guest out first?”
“Yes, yes,” Skippy sighed and stormed out of the room.
All of you Guards need to be reminded of who holds power in the city, Skippy thought, storming off toward his father’s room. It’s time father finally takes a stand and demands that Wilbur set aside his idiocy.
Pausing next to Hecule, outside his father’s room, Skippy composed himself. “How is he faring today?”
“Lord Gilden is doing poorly today,” Hecule replied.
Skippy’s eyes twitched at Hecule’s familiarity, but even Skippy knew better than to call out the old Guard on his demeanor. “Is he well enough to receive me today? I have House business to discuss with him.”
Hecule considered the request, then knocked once on the door and opened it a crack. “Lord Gilden, your eldest is here on House business.”
A tired, broken voice called back softly, “Let him in. He can have five minutes of my time.”
“You heard the Lord,” Hecule said, pushing the door open further.
Skippy’s frozen smile didn’t twitch as he went past his father’s oldest servant. The dim room smelled of death and cinnamon, the incense used to mask the scent of Lord Gilden’s poor health. The door closed with a soft snick behind him as Skippy went to his father’s bedside and sat in the chair there.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you, father—” Skippy started.
A gaunt hand rose an inch off the bed and waved off the pleasantries. “Tell me what brings you, I don’t have the energy to deal with anything else.”
“Of course, father,” Skippy said. “Wilbur has been disgraced by Captain Roberto. Just a few minutes ago, Wilbur was brought into the home by another guard in a state of near senselessness. The guard relayed a message from the Captain that made it clear that Wilbur was to take the day off, and not to attempt to make decisions that the Captain should be making.”
“He has not yet given up on his dream?” Lord Gilden asked.
“No, father, he has not, even after I have tried to dissuade him repeatedly over the last year. More to the point, he is dragging the House name into the
mud by letting himself be disgraced in this way.”
“Does he still idolize Lord Theron?” Lord Gilden’s frail voice carried a hint of anger when he asked the question.
“We argued on that very point just this morning, father,” Skippy said.
“Even more stubborn than you…” the words were a bare whisper, but Skippy stiffened at them. “He will come around in time. Have you done as I have requested and begun looking for wives for both of you?”
“You mentioned that two years ago, father,” Skippy said after a pause. “I wedded a cousin of House Carradine just two months ago. None of the noble ladies want anything to do with Wilbur, because of his insistence on dressing up and acting like a guard.”
Tales from the Dead Man Inn Page 23
