Reign in Hell (Azecreth and rafathrasha)

[rafathrasha]

For ages, Ba’al ruled Hell unchallenged. In the metaphysical West, his banners, tattered and scorched, flew over the cacophonic battlefields of Acheron. In the East, they hung from the raised sacrifice towers built over the screaming pits of the Abyss. In the South, they presided over the grim, unfaltering silence of the Gray Wastes. In the North, upon the prison built from the hollowed-out corpse of the Titan, Carceri, the red-gold crest of the House of Ba’al stood guard.

All of that has changed.

The King is dead, and you must claim your birthright.

*** *** ***​

Unknown to Glasya, two decades ago, her father had conferred in secret with a number of important Infernal lawmakers, judges, and historians. Among them were Orixian, the Taxonomer of Madness; Liyris, the Sandstorm Bell; and Amalion, the Manse of Echoes Ascending, great powers of Hell who served as witnesses when he named his Heir, a half-brother that Glasya had not even known about.

This act of naming was fortuitous, as the Emperor was beset by assassins and struck down not long after returning to the Imperial Palace of Malsheem. The leader of these murderers, her eldest brother, Ranath, seized the documents and burned them, but in the end it mattered very little. Scribes, documentarists, and calligraphers from the Black Towers had already copied them a thousand, thousand times and swift messengers were carrying them to the farthest reaches of the Infernal Empire (and since Orixian had already secured the originals in the vaults below, there was no getting rid of them). It was not long before the truth was known, the son of Anabriel and Ba'al had been named the First Imperial Prince, and he was now the King of Hell.

The civil war had begun almost overnight.

Loyalists to the Throne fought Ranath, the leader of the Militarium Infernal, and his soldiers in the streets. The Fallen sensed blood in the water and banded together in a great host, determined to overthrow demonkind and take control of the Empire. Cities fell, the Senate was massacred, temples were sacked, libraries burned. In the chaos, Ranath approached Glasya with an offer, between his armies and her political powers as the First Imperial Princess, they could easily rule together. She had informed him she needed three days to consider his proposal and meditate on their father’s will, and on the first night, she had fled to Earth.

It was costly to come here, demons are not normally permitted to walk in the mortal realms, but Glasya would rather die than lay down with her father’s murderer. Ranath, already furious at not being named heir, is even more outraged by being spurned, and he is determined than ever to capture her and kill their wayward brother, and he has far more resources at his command.

As she approaches the place where her still-unknown brother is said to live, she can already see the signs of infernal intrusion into the human world, and she hopes she isn’t too late…

 

[Azecreth]

On Earth, a man was about to be confronted with his destiny. He had been raised his whole life with an understanding of what he was, the power he could possess. Yet it had always been seen as a reactionary force. To take the fight to Hell was unthinkable. He had simply been prepared for the threats that might come for him. Little did he know that soon he would be thrust into a struggle far greater than anyone had anticipated.

Sighing to himself, Vincent wiped the sweat on his brow with his forearm as he walked through the hot sun. He had been raised outside of suburban America, at a vineyard in the Southwest countryside. It was pleasant enough to almost be idyllic, though it was on the smaller side. That was by necessity, as their family had sought some level of isolation from the rest of the world. He had learned why from a young age as his mixed blood manifested itself. Being related to a demon was something that would have otherwise drawn a lot of attention. He knew his mother had acquired the property by making some sort of deal, he just wasn't sure what it was.

The vineyard itself provided a modest income, and the space it offered allowed for Vincent to be trained with some degree of privacy. He had learned many things out of perceived necessity. Politics and diplomacy, swordplay and marksmanship, his mother had sought to prepare him for any eventuality where his father would seek to take him back. And from what she had told him, Vincent did not desire that either.

Today seemed like any other day. The sun beat down, and Vincent was out working in the fields. The t shirt he wore clung to his skin from the heat, combined with long abused jeans, and he moved smoothly down the rows of vines as he inspected the growing fruits. Those were his main concern at the moment, for he had no idea of the adventure that was headed his way even now.

 

[rafathrasha]

Glasya stops at the top of a hill, looking down over the buildings watching the scene below her.

On Earth, Glasya hides her infernal nobility behind a cloak of illusions and glamours, appearing as a striking, exotic human woman with elaborately styled white hair. Being on the run from a murderous sibling is no excuse to slum it, however, and she wears an equally elaborate dress, somehow familiar and foreign all at once. Her eyes are a striking shade of violet, and her skin is alarmingly pale.

Though she lacks Ranath's military might, there are Legions loyal to her. She also has bodyguards, handmaidens skilled in combat, and of course, the legal protections her status as the First Imperial Princess grants her. All of those are gone now, left behind in the Empire on the chance that she might be able to find her brother.

The estate he's living in with her father's concubine, growing grapes and living off the land is... well, it's quaint, she supposes. Very provincial, especially when you compare it to the endless infernal glory of Malsheem. She's not entirely certain what she was expecting, perhaps that he had conquered Earth already and had legions of his own. Instead, well, instead, there's this.

She starts down the slope towards the man, debating what to say and wondering how much he knows already. As she takes the first step, she hears noise at the edge of a wooded glade on the grounds, and hulking red figures burst forth, five of them, plus a commander. The demons, which she knows as Erymanthoi, stand half-again as tall as a man, covered in blood red fur, combining the traits of apes and demonkind in a disquieting mix of features.

Damn it all! Ranath's favoured shock troops, here.

Though she realizes they're not here for her, and indeed, they pay her no notice, either they can't see through her spells or they're too focused on their quarry, and they bear down on the man in the vineyard, unholy shrieks filling the air.

 

[Azecreth]

Walking along, the first warning that Vincent got of what was coming was the hair raising on the back of his neck. The second was the tingling feeling in the back of his head, a sign that the wards that had been placed around the property had been triggered. They were designed to sense a demonic presence and warn the occupants, and in this they had served their function well. No doubt his mother was also receiving the same warning.

Because of this he was already moving as the shrieks of rage filled the air. Making his way to the end of the row he was in in the direction opposite the intruding demons, he moved for the nearby shed. The door swung open on well oiled hinges, but he did not reach for a gardening tool. Instead he produced more suitable weapons for this situation - a short sword and a pistol. Twirling the blade, he turned to face his oncoming foes with a grin. "Come on then, give it your best shot."

With numbers against him, he could not just sit on the defensive. He moved forward once more, hoping to use the rows of vines to cover his flanks. Dodging the first swing, his pistol fired before he followed it with a sharp swing of his blade. He could not assume that the bullets would penetrate, so for now he'd simply use it to augment his sword. If he was proven wrong so much the better.

The more time he could buy for their escape, the better.

 

[rafathrasha]

Well, Glasya thinks, observing, at least he can take care of himself.

He’s not Ranath, but perhaps this is salvageable, after all.

The Erymanthoi howl, the screech of their war-cries so loud it’s almost painful, and they themselves at the young man, the commander leading the charge, typical of this type of demon. The Blood Apes are not exactly known for their subtlety and deep tactical wisdom, and they simply crash through the vineyard, knocking over the delicate trellises.

It’s at this point Glasya realizes she should probably do something, if she wants to prove to her sibling that she can be trusted.

Alas, she’s not a warrior, but her command of magic is nothing to scoff at, and she gathers shadows around herself, transporting herself to her brother’s side. Flame lances out from her hands, cutting one of the beasts to ribbons, and her gold-enameled nails leave trails of light in the air as she weaves spells.

The fight goes on for less than a minute, and then Anabriel takes flight from the main house, her sword flashes out as she lands amidst the Erymanthoi, cutting the commander’s head from his shoulders in a blaze of light, the others falling to either Glasya’s magic or Vincent’s weapons.

Oh, and speaking of Glasya, his mother is not happy to see her.

“Glasya,” says Anabriel, stalking towards the demoness. “You are not allowed to be here. Go back to the abyss you crawled out of.”

“Ah,” says Glasya. “The Emperor’s concubine, how wonderful to see that you have accommodations befitting your… status.”

“Demons are not permitted on Earth, the treaty has stood for thousands of–”

“You should tell that to Ranath,” Glasya retorts, glancing out over the corpses of Erymanthoi, which flicker and start to rapidly burn away. She’s begrudgingly impressed with how her half-brother fights, though begrudgingly is the only kind of impressed she ever is. “This attack failed, but he’ll send another, and another after that. A full invasion of Earth, if it comes to that. Only one obstacle stands between him and the Throne of the Empire.”

Anabriel crosses her arms and frowns.

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” says Glasya, “and yet it’s the Emperor’s will, and here we are.”

 

[Azecreth]

As his blade flashed and his firearm barked, Vincent was taken aback by the sudden appearance of an unexpected ally next to him. It was not hard to guess her lineage given the magic she was employing, but given the circumstances at hand he was willing to accept her aid regardless. He continued to fight with a vengeance, though some of his more advanced tricks were kept in reserve for now. Fodder such as this did not warrant it.

Then Anabriel appeared, ending the battle with thunder and fury. He was not surprised, but it was impressive to see all the same. The way she moved as if she was dancing, with swift motion and clear purpose, it would draw anyone's gaze. He nodded to his mother, wiping off his blade and reloading his gun as the combat came to an end.

Though he had been told of his heritage, his mother had not gone into much detail with regards to his siblings. He looked her over now that they had the time to do so, taking in what details he may have missed. Her inhuman heritage was not so blatant, but the signs remained for those who knew what to look for. Aside from the use of magic, of course. He let them converse, simply assessing the situation for now.

A hand rose to run through his hair, restoring it to order after the frantic nature of combat. Then he spoke up as well. "As fun as it would be to overthrow Hell, what proof do we have that you did not set this up as a display for our benefit," he noted. Demons were cunning, and sacrificing a few pawns to sell the deception would be an easy task. They could very well be walking into a trap.

 

[rafathrasha]

"Overthrow Hell?" Glasya says, raising an eyebrow, darkly amused. "That won't be necessary, you're the First Imperial Prince, as well as our father's Heir. Of course I don't expect you to believe it, at least, not without proof. Your mother is many things, but I doubt she raised a fool."

She snaps her fingers, conjuring a black flame over them which leaves a stack of verbose documents behind when it subsides. She hands them over to Vincent, clearly expecting him to be an expert in Hell's bureaucracy already. Anabriel watches this exchange, tense.

"Not the originals, of course, but they'll do. The High Judges have already secured those, and Orixian, the Taxonomer has vouched for their authenticity. You are already the Emperor and there's very little Ranath can do about it, other than killing you and seizing control of the Empire by force."

"What," demands Anabriel, "is your father playing at?"

Glasya rolls her eyes. "If I knew, I would tell you. Perhaps his intention was to cause any would be assassins as much shame and trouble as possible, or to spite us all should he ever die. It would be very much like him."

There is no argument from Vincent's mother.

"As to taking the throne myself..." Glasya takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Would that I could, but I couldn't hold it, and I have no legal claim. Alas, I'm ranting. Ranath is desperate to kill you, only your death can void our father's will, and though I'm sure you care little for me, your mother is the Emperor's concubine and slaves are... how to put this, transferable property, should his claim to the throne be endorsed."

 

[Azecreth]

Even if Glasya suggested there was some continuity between Vincent and his father if he should take the throne, he did not see it that way. He wasn't exactly a demon after all, and his raising was much different. Were he to seriously take power, things would change.

"It always amuses me how legal Hell is," Vincent noted with a grin. Leaning forward, he skimmed the documents he had been handed while Anabriel and Glasya talked. It seemed his farther was one of mysterious motives. It wasn't quite the equivalent of Alexanders 'To the strongest', but it was a strong contender. Clearly Rathan had decided that it was a challenge to his ability and had acted accordingly.

Admittedly he wasn't all that trusting of when she claimed she had no path to the throne at the moment. If there was a will then there was a way. And his mother had told him again and again that demons were ruthless when it came to the accumulation of their own power. As they had both noted, she didn't have much besides her own word. Even the insinuation towards his mother did not sway him as much as it might have otherwise.

Glancing over to his mother, he let out a light chuckle. "I'd like to see him try and make that stick." If she was willing to flee and resist Ba'al, she'd be willing to do the same with Ranath.

Thinking on it, he conceded that sitting as they had been was not an option. He didn't feel great about sitting on the defensive and letting Ranath throw minions at them in ever increasing numbers. In that case, it was time to act a bit like the foe. "Supposing we do this, it sounds like you would be helping me defeat Rathan. What do you intend to get in return?" She was hardly doing this out of the goodness of her heart after all.

 

[rafathrasha]

"Ah," she says. "How exacting, little brother."

The demoness holds out one hand. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am your eldest sister, the First Imperial Princess, Glasya, daughter of Queen Erodara."

She inflects heavily on the word 'queen', glancing at Anabriel as she does it, though his mother doesn't rise to the bait. As if she would give the demon the satisfaction, and whether or not Vincent takes her hand and kisses it, she retracts it.

"What I want, of course, is to be the Empress-Tyrant. In a perfect world, myself and our father's loyalists see you placed on the Throne, and shortly afterwards, you abdicate in favor of me. Then you return here with your concubine and continue doing..." She glances around at the vineyard. "Whatever quaint thing it is you do here. Living in peace and hunting the occasional monster, I would imagine."

"If you intend to rule yourself, then in exchange for my advice and support, we will be married, and I will be your Queen and your first wife."

Anabriel begins to say something, but Glasya cuts her off.

"I'm sure, Seraph, that you're about to tell you son not to trust me, and you would be right to do so." Glasya smiles, her expression a mockery of grace. "However, let me tell you that you aren't going to find another Queen more trustworthy, or one with more to offer. I am not as strong as Ranath, but I do command our father's loyalists and my status as the First Imperial Princess gives me impressive political powers."

"I suppose," says Anabriel, "that there are devils in the pit even more conniving than you, Glasya."

"Why thank you," says Glasya. "I'm sure I know now why my father often sought the advice of his favourite whore."

 

[Azecreth]

Ah, there it was. Vincent was hardly surprised as Glasya revealed what her end game was to him after she introduced herself. "Vincent, but you knew that already," he replied with a smile as he took her hand in a firm shake. Likely she had expected a kiss or something similarly noble, but he did not see a need to play along with that. Even if she was ostensibly his half-sister, but he had not grown up with her.

Regardless, it seemed that one way or another she intended to be a power on the throne. Or behind it. If this had all been done without him being involved he probably would not have minded either way. But he was involved, and he wasn't sure what the best option would be. Her attitude was not helping much either in that regard. Maybe she was correct on her value to his cause, but they did not have proof of that value yet.

Before things escalated further into a potential argument, Vincent spoke up. "You present a very interesting offer. Me and my mother are going to discuss it inside, if you don't mind waiting here." They didn't need her to watch for demons, but a bit of privacy while discussing the changing circumstances would be useful.

With a hand on Anabriel's shoulder, Vincent walked them back to the house. Once inside he made sure they were some distance from the exterior walls before addressing her as he leaned against the wall. "So what do you think? She seems to be telling the truth, at least about Ranath. But this is the sort of thing we can't really change our minds about, once we decide to go through with it."

 

[rafathrasha]

Outside, Glasya, who has never been on Earth before, wanders around, looking at everything curiously. She seems content to let him go, as though she already knows the outcome.

Anabriel watches her from the window for a time, then turns to her son.

“I think she’s being as honest as she intends to be,” his mother says. “Your father, Ba’al, had many enemies, and no king can rule forever. I had hoped this wouldn’t come to pass for many more years, or centuries, I–”

She wraps her arms around herself, almost shaking as she considers the possibility of going back to Hell, but at the same time, if Vincent chooses to go, how could she let him face such a thing alone?

“We could try to run,” she says, “but it’s as your sister said, as long as you’re alive, your father’s edict will stand, and anyone else on the Throne will be nothing more than a pretender. Ranath, your oldest brother, is powerful and brutal, the commander of the Empire’s military, and if he were to invade the Earth, it would be wholesale slaughter. Heaven would be forced to respond, drawn into the conflict.”

She sighs. “If you were to try to claim the Throne yourself, it would be the worst danger you’ve ever faced, with no guarantee of success. We would face enemies at every turn, even Heaven would be against you, they would love to see Hell burn in the fires of civil war.”

“Whatever you choose, I will be at your side through it all.” She unfolds her arms and cups his cheeks. “My dearest, I will never leave you.”

 

[Azecreth]

Vincent nodded, listening carefully as Anabriel discussed their situation. Her thoughts lined up with his to some extent, but it was good to hear it said out loud. He respected her opinion after all, and it gave him a bit more confidence knowing that his opinions on this whole thing were not alone.

After a moment he sighed, shaking his head. "Well, I'm not about to let the planet be destroyed simply for my sake. We can't just leave for another plane, so I guess we have no choice but to fight." Maybe if it had been a fight Earth could reasonably win his decision might have been different. But as it was, better that Hell be ravaged rather than here. Here was a bit harder to fix than Hell was.

He flashed her a smile as his mind settled into a firm determination. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about Heaven right away. They'll want to make sure we stand a chance against Rathan first. To say nothing of any other challengers who might show up." Admittedly it was a small reassurance, but it was one less foe in the short term. Of which there could be many. Rathan's followers, as well as those who felt they could do the same thing he was doing. Demons were nothing if not opportunistic.

The more in formal attitude shifted then as his mother pledged to remain by his side. Smiling, he cupped her hand with his own. "I love you too," he confirmed with his voice full of sincerity. "At least I'll have one person I can count on down there."

Still, they could not remain like this forever. The demons would not allow for that. "I suppose we should go tell Glasya the good news," he said with a sigh as he stepped away and towards the door. "We can decide if we trust her enough to run Hell later." They still needed proof that she was telling the truth, after all.

 

[rafathrasha]

"I suppose we should tell her," Anabriel says. "If we fail, we'll be dead, and if we succeed, we won't be back. Anything we want to keep, we'll have to take with us. The journey to the High Imperial Capital, called Malsheem, is long. So despite that warning, take only what you can carry."

She's going to part from him and gather what few things she owns. There's very little from Earth that she wants to take, but as she collects it, she tries to hide her nervousness and fear from her son. She had thought she escaped, and that she would be gone from Hell for centuries or millennia, not a scant two decades. The things that Ba'al did to her are suddenly at the forefront of her memories, and her shoulders shake.

No, none of the matters. She can't abandon her son. What does she have more precious than him?

When they exit the house Glasya looks up from her inspection of some grapes, immensely pleased.

"I knew you would see reason, little brother." She smiles widely. "I can open the way as soon as you're ready to go."

"Outside of the mortal realms is a desert of silver sand," his mother says. "Humans, living or dead, cannot cross it, but we can make the passage in three days. Beyond that are the immortal realms, Heaven and Hell, the other worlds beyond those, the realms of the fae and the Old Ones. The desert has its dangers, so be on alert, but its far safer than Hell."

"Our first destination should be the estate of our uncle, Balaam," says Glasya. "Hopefully he'll be sympathetic to our cause, and we can discuss the marriage as we travel."

 

[Azecreth]

Vincent nodded in agreement with his mother's suggestion. War was no easy thing, and they were not going to Hell for a vacation. There might be some room for sentimentality, but it would not be much. Not with the stakes as they were. "I understand," he assured her.

And so he took the time to pack. His weapons of course, sword and pistol with ammunition for the latter. A basic survival kit, though the practical use of a compass in Hell was questionable. But the medical supplies would come in handy. He included a book for some light reading during the nights, a flashlight, and various other supplies. Anabriel had prepared him well for this kind of situation, so he did not need very long to prepare.

While she prepared, he headed outside to deliver the news to Glasya. If she had been expecting it, it was likely because the alternatives were fairly easy to think of. "I'm ready," he confirmed with a nod. He glanced over to Anabriel as she listed the immediate danger they would be faced with, but he was not intimidated by that. It would not be very interesting if he died so early on in their journey.

There was one thing that caught his attention however. "'Hopefully' does not fill me with much confidence. As the First Imperial Princess, I'd think you would have a better idea of who is on your side or not." Admittedly this was Hell. Everyone was on their own side at the end of the day. But a little jab did not seem unwarranted either.

 

[rafathrasha]

Glasya scoffs, surely he just had to get that dig in because he thinks she's insulting his concubine. She turns away and starts casting a spell, carving magic into the air, her enamelled gold fingernails leaving contrails of light she works the the magic.

A ring of glyphs opens at her feet, and the air charges with fel energy. There's a splintering crack as one of the nearby windows breaks, and the air is stirred by hot, sirocco winds. From the corners of the field, silver sand pours in, until it's ankle deep on the demoness, and there's a sensation of being pulled, and then of weightlessness, like falling.

...then, it's over, and they stand somewhere new.

In every direction, a sea of silver sand stretches out towards the horizon, and above them, time seems locked in a strange twilight, neither day nor night. The sky is rich with lights that appear to be stars and galaxies, though these aren't balls of gas as they are in the mortal realm, but the passing of strange worlds and the energies of other planes.

To Vincent's west, there are signs of life, scrub grasses and cut stone, half buried objects of metal, the remains of the vineyard trellises. The place where the Silver Desert touches Earth. To his east, there is nothing, and the sand continues seemingly forever, though Glasya and Anabriel orient themselves without trouble.

Glasya glances over at him, and then points up at the sky.

"Varajaan," she says, pointing at a black star in the heavens. "The Sun too Proud to Set. We can follow his light to reach the borderlands of Hell."

She starts walking, heading into the featureless desert.

His mother closes her eyes, and sighs deeply, hoping to never have to see this place again, but then she starts after Glasya. "Humans, living or dead, can't cross the Silver Desert," she explains, as they walk. "They have to find a place where the River of the Dead flows and pay a ferryman to take them across."

 

[Azecreth]

While there was a bit of a targeted jab in his statement, Vincent would prefer to go somewhere where they could be certain that the ruler would be loyal. It seemed he would simply have to hope that things worked out. But if it did go bad he would probably hold it against Glasya a little bit. It was the human thing to do.

Vincent watched with a growing sense of eagerness as his half-sister used her powers to open the space between realms. For a brief moment he felt the sensation of falling, a bit like what he imagined being at terminal velocity must be like. Then just as quickly it ended as they reached their destination. It was a somewhat surreal experience, though at least he wouldn't be traveling between realms too often.

They found themselves in a stranger land. The vineyard just seemed to end, fading into a seemingly endless desert. Luckily the light was not too bright, keeping the reflection off the lightly colored sand from being too harsh. It was not midday but also not twilight, kind of a strange in between like a cloud passing over the sun. There was nothing else here, no cacti or rocks, just seemingly unending dunes.

Vincent probably would have been lost in a place such as this, so he trusted his companions to know where they were going and began following accordingly. He kept pace, walking alongside his mother while an eye remained peeled for potential threats. It didn't seem like there could be in a place as desolate as this, but if Rathan was willing to send soldiers to Earth then there was a chance he would send them here too. At least it would be hard to stage an ambush.

"Well then, lucky for us that we can cheat with demon magic," he noted as they walked along. Of course he probably didn't count as a human given his heritage, but he'd like to think he was cheating the system in spirit at least.

 

[rafathrasha]

For some time, it’s unclear if they’re making progress, especially to a mind untrained in how to navigate infinite spaces. Each dune of sand is preceded and followed by a near-identical one, and curiously, neither his mother nor Glasya try to fly to make things faster. Though at some point, his mother will explain that the journey takes three days and three nights no matter how quick the pace of a traveler.

At times they pass strange objects in the desert. The half-buried corpses of titans, humans lost between worlds for so long they’ve degenerated in shades, ruins from otherworldly civilizations. The sand is in the process of taking all of it, burying it in silver.

After what seems a long time, though it’s hard to tell, Glasya finds an oasis in the distance and leads them to it. The trees and grass are strangely silver, fed by a pool of silvery liquid that look more like liquid mercury than water, though Glasya and his mother both drink from it, unconcerned.

“We should get some rest,” his sister says, and Anabriel agrees.

Glasya will sit down next to the water, using magic to communicate with her allies, telling them she’s on her way back, though she doesn’t want to contact Balaam. She wants to give her uncle no time to change his mind, or worse, reveal her location to Ranath. Anabriel will walk a short distance away, to a grove of trees, out of sight of the demoness.

(Will he rest? Or does have questions for either woman?)

 

[Azecreth]

Trudging along through the sand, there was a distinct lack of enemies. Or anyone else really, leaving plenty of time for Vincent to thing. It was hard to tell how long they had been going, but he did not complain about it. He wasn't some petulant child with all the impatience of such. They would arrive when they arrived.

He nodded in understanding when it was explained that the journey would take the same amount of time regardless of how fast they moved, though it did raise another question. If that was the case then why did they need to stop for rests? Perhaps it was a thing for the mind, to keep one from getting too exhausted or having their soul sucked out. The beings they passed along the way certainly seemed to indicate that was a possibility. He didn't mind of course, but he was curious. Meanwhile the objects they passed along the way served as landmarks, leaving him to wonder what worlds they may have come from in distant bygone eras.

Coming across an oasis, the decision was made to rest. The water might look weird, but he was willing to drink it if they were, so he quickly went about easing his thirst.

He put his stuff down near the oasis and looked around. Glasya was seated next to the water and using her magic, while Anabriel had made her way elsewhere. After a minute or so to relax Vincent went after her, though he made sure he was careful not to barge in on a personal moment. When the coast was clear he walked over to her and sat down against one of the trees.

"I know you don't like talking about your time with him, but what do you remember of my siblings? Aside from the one currently trying to kill me, of course," he asked with an attentive look.

 

[rafathrasha]

Anabriel sighs, looking him over fondly, and she cups his cheeks. He’s too old to be babied, but too young for all of this, and it pains her that the past has caught up with them.

“Your father–” she begins, then has to consider how to go on.

“You and I, and your father as well, we aren't like humans. Our lifespans aren't limited by age. We can live until something kills us. I thought, I hoped, that Ba’al’ would live for many more centuries, millennia, even. He ruled Hell for eons.”

His mother sighs.

“During that time,” she goes on, “he had many children, but his first wife, Glasya’s mother, could not bear him a son. Erodara is powerful on her own, politically connected, the daughter of very old powers and highly placed nobility. Your father could not simply divorce her. So he turned to concubines, of which he had thousands. He even kidnapped them from other worlds, or took captives from crusades.”

Here, she gestures to herself.

“Ranath, his first-born son, saw himself as Ba’al’s natural heir,” she says. “He’s very much like his father, cruel, powerful, ruthless, a brilliant military commander. In Ranath’s mind, I’m sure there was no other choice, though your father never had him invested for that exact reason, it would have been like letting a wolf into your house. From what Glasya is saying, Ranath eventually decided to force the issue.”

“Keep this in mind,” she warns him. “Many of the people who want you on the Throne want you there because they will see you as inexperienced and easy to control, they believe they will be able to manipulate you in ways that they can’t with Ranath, Glasya included.”

 

[Azecreth]

He was not sure what he had expected, but Vincent listened carefully regardless. Some of this he had known already, but he appreciated her going into a bit more detail for his sake. For a moment he thought that her desire to have Ba'al rule Hell longer was odd, only to correct himself as he connected it back to his own fate and what they were doing now. Right, that made sense.

That said, ultimately his question appeared to be a futile one. It seemed that Ba'al was insatiable, and the desire for an heir was as powerful with demons as it was with humans.. "I suppose I have too many siblings to talk about," he noted with a chuckle. Well, at least they'd meet the important ones along the way. Probably. Were all of them quite as outstanding as Ranath and Glasya?

Glancing back towards the oasis, Vincent nodded. "I trust her about as far as I can throw her. She's working with us for now because she'd prefer Ranath not kill her, but she's made it pretty clear that she expects to be in charge one way or another when this is all settled. She'll probably try to stack the deck further in her favor as we travel." They were really going to need to figure out this marriage thing too.

He paused, then after a moment voiced the thought that came to his mind. "I know I may be overthinking it, but isn't Ranath assassinating Ba'al a bit too obvious? How do you assassinate a millennia old demon anyway?"

 

[rafathrasha]

“I admit, I don’t know,” says Anabriel. “Though Ba’al did not become Emperor of Hell out of the goodness of his heart. He had many enemies. Ranath might have made promises to the Fallen, or the imprisoned Titans, or even gone to the Old Gods for power if he were desperate enough. He might have even had aid from Heaven, as much as I hate to say it. Angels can be treacherous, in their own way, and there are plenty of warriors among the Host who would jump at any chance to sow chaos in Hell.”

“There’s something else…” she begins, then trails off, unsure of how to broach the subject.

“I won’t pretend that you didn’t hear what Glasya said,” his mother says, at last. “I’m the Emperor’s concubine, and you are the Emperor. I don’t think Ba’al did this to harm me on purpose, but I can’t imagine he hesitated, either. I… have to show you something.”

With a gesture, she dispels her silvery armour, leaving only her clothing. Looking away from his face, she undoes her shirt, the fabric clinging lightly to her breasts, the curve them obviously visible. Then the sash of her pants, so that she can show him the elaborate red tattoo over her womb. The glyphs there once read Ba’al’s name in the infernal tongue, though now they say his.

“Forgive me, for a mother shouldn’t,” she says, “but if you intend to stay on this path, I don’t want Glasya to be your first. I don’t want her to change you, to take you away from me.”

 

[Azecreth]

For now Vincent was content to let the matter of the assassination drop. It was entirely possible that they would never know for sure. It could be as simple as it seemed, or there could be a deeper conspiracy behind everything. If there was, they would probably figure it out as they went along. He was in no hurry to unravel whatever mystery laid therein. As it was, he'd be busy enough trying to survive in this new role.

He paused then as she seemed to shift topics. He knew that she did not like to talk about her particular role within Ba'al's court, though he was always willing to rise to her defense against the insults that might be thrown her way. She had taken quite the risk for his sake, after all.

"What is it," he asked. A question that was swiftly answered as she removed her armor, then undid her shirt and the top of her pants. He would be amiss if he said his gaze was not drawn there for normal reasons, but his eyes widened at the sight of the tattoo emblazoned there. It radiated demonic magic, something that would remain so long as she was alive. And there, before his eyes, was his name written there.

Realization sank in even as she professed a desire that would have been taboo for anyone who was not a demon. For those beings, such morality was a bit looser. Yet there was something else that grabbed at his mind, one that he needed time to process. He did not want to change either, regardless of Glasya's plotting.

BUu for now, he could only voice the first thoughts that sprang to mind. "Wait, you have that as Ba'al's concubine, right? Does that mean there are now thousands of beings with my name....like that?" A sigh escaped as he looked towards the sky. "Wow. That's a...That's a lot." Even with all the training she had given him, it was a state of affairs that was far beyond what he could have imagined.

 

[rafathrasha]

“Yes,” his mother admits. “Glasya wasn’t lying, everything that once belonged to the Emperor– to your father, now belongs to you. Myself included. The spell can’t be broken, he made certain of that.”

“All those years on Earth,” she glances away. “He surely knew where I was, but just as I believed, he probably thought he had all the time in the world. Perhaps he intended to reveal himself to you in centuries, or millennia.”

His mother turns to look at him again, reaching out to cup his cheek, drawing himself, until their bodies are almost touching. “I will always be here for you,” she says. “My dear son, but also my Emperor. I will never leave you, and I will be at your side when you take the Throne, I want–”

“Forgive me,” she says, suddenly. “If it’s too much, return to Glasya and pretend I said nothing.”

 

[Azecreth]

As Anabriel confirmed what his suspicions had brought to light, Vincent had to struggle with the scope of what was being placed before him. Even her careful preparations could not entirely prepare him for this moment. Thousands of beings were now nothing more than his property, to do with as he saw fit. That was a lot of power and a lot of responsibility. Hopefully it wouldn't get to his head.

He sat up as she came closer, respondig with the same eager attention that he showed for most of her lessons. His hand rose, cupping her own. Fingers came to rest, and his thumb moved in a slow circle against the top of her hand. This was hard for her, and he did not disrespect the toll her life had taken on her.

Her comment caused him to shake his head a little, motion constrained somewhat by her presence. "There's no one I care about more," he assured her. There was a glimmer of reluctance in his mind, but it was not born of morality. Demons had done much worse than what he was considering. His was born of a more practical, and emotional, concern. "Maybe not now," he said after a moment, gesturing back over his shoulder as he did so. "We don't have much privacy here. I wouldn't want Glasya to ruin the mood."

His mother deserved better.

 

[rafathrasha]

Anabriel flushes slightly, even though she wasn’t *exactly* rejected, and nods to him. She feels slightly off-balance, she would have had to confess this to him sooner or later, better he heard the truth from her than discovered from whichever concubine they run into first. Still, she worries how this changes things, now that it’s out in the open.

“I understand,” she says, simply, and she draws back from him.

Silently, she does up her shirt, conjuring her silvery armor back onto her body. She takes his hand and squeezes it gently, then she’ll lead him back to the main area of the oasis.

It’s clear that Glasya knows what was going on, but for once, she actually seems to have some grace, and she doesn’t say anything. She’s sitting by the water and, she gestures for them to come over.

“Balaam is our father’s brother,” she says. “Your uncle and mine. Even so, blood doesn’t mean the same here as it does on Earth–”

Considering what just happened with his mother, yeah, that’s definitely true.

“–he won’t help us out of loyalty, so we’ll either have to hope we have something to offer him, or we’ll have to hope that Ranath has already threatened him with something.” Glasya sighs. “Hopefully both, in trying to secure his rule, our brother has already made a lot of enemies.”

“We should reach his lands soon,” she says, “tomorrow we’ll talk about what we’re going to say. We should get our story straight.”