The Demon Lord Is An Angel
Chapter 61: Volume 1 - Epilogue

Chapter 61: Volume 1 - Epilogue

Far away, in distant Aaru, the Tower Lord Anruelu Savat, a rather rotund elf, waited. He was reclined on a couch, dressed in the finest of silks, and waited on by a host of serving women.

Behind his couch, a male angel and a female demon - both full-blooded - stood with hands before them, as if they were a matched but opposite set. While they faced the Tower Lord’s back, they never let each other out of their peripheral sight.

As he dined on heaven berries, peeling off the blue of their skins to get at the glowing flesh beneath, the massive doors of his tower suite opened, and a woman entered. She wore a featureless mask of some grey material, with a habit of understated ochre shrouding the rest of her form. Only the slight curves at her chest and hips gave any indication that there was a woman under there at all, not that Anralu had any desire to discover any more than that.

No, this woman was useful for other reasons, but she had her own motivations, as he was increasingly discovering.

"Oracle, so good of you to take time away from the future to see me," he gestured to a divan that was in front of him, just out of the way enough not to occlude the door. "Come, eat, if you are so inclined," he said, his tone inviting, not that he’d ever seen her eat, either. He was always ready for a surprise though.

"I appreciate the spirit of your offer," the Oracle replied.

"Do you know why I called for you?" he asked.

"I know the current, not every flow," she replied flatly, holding so completely, utterly still, he thought she might be a doll.

"In other words, ’No’," Anruelu translated for himself. "Your foresight seems remarkably inconvenient when it suits you... something I’ve noticed has been happening more often lately."

She remained silent. It wasn’t a new observation he’d made. Over the last year, her predictions had grown more confused. Random-seeming. Uncertain.

He was wondering if her gift had finally maddened her like she warned, or if there was some other agenda at play. He had a dynasty to maintain, as the fourth Savat Tower Lord of Aaru - the longest any single family had ruled this isolated but valuable city. He would not risk-

"Your position is unchanged," the Oracle finally said. "As I predicted long ago, the reign of your dynasty will end only when the ocean comes to Aaru."

Anruelu tsked. Sometimes the Oracle seemed not to know the year, and other times it was like she had already had entire conversations with him before they happened. This time would be a mix, it seemed. Most annoying.

"I called you here because I want to know where my Prime Delver is," he said.

"She is where she needs to be," the Oracle replied. "But I am unable to give you an exact location."

"And where is that exactly? She talked to you yesterday, that much I know, and now she’s missing. And at great expense! I am told she paid for teleportation, but to where, I must ask, seeing as she is a hunted woman?"

Was there a subtle shift? A twitch of the hand? What was the Oracle hiding?

"We spoke in passing. She asked if there was anything I would like from the world outside," the Oracle said a moment later. "I was unaware she had intended to travel, but she did seem to be in a hurry."

"And what did you request?" Anruelu demanded.

"Cherries," the Oracle replied. "A perdition will form over the lands of the Grand Lake. I wish to have some before the crop is rarified for a time."

The demon behind Anruelu’s chair seemed to loom closer, he turned to see her looking intently at the Oracle’s blank mask, as if trying to divine something from its dull grey shine.

The Oracle stood. She had an infuriating way of knowing when Anruelu was out of questions. Of playing the game while not playing it.

"May I take my leave, Honored Tower?" she asked.

Anruelu waved a dismissive hand for her to go, and she bowed before making her exit. As soon as the doors closed behind her, he turned to the pair behind the couch.

"What do you two make of it?" he asked. They were contract-bound to answer, being retainers and bodyguards both. Performing the same job as they relayed the desires of heaven and hell to the Dungeon City - and also bid on artifacts for their respective lords.

His great-great-grandfather had schemed in a truly labyrinthian manner to have bound both heaven and hell to the well-being of his dynasty. Anruelu’s dynasty, now, until one of his three sons showed enough strength to take over.

"There is no sign that the Eye of Hell will open for another year at least," Sesca answered first, the demon at his shoulder as she whispered. Anruelu’s senses told him she was using magic to mask her voice from Laurent, the angel who was leaning over his other shoulder. "Until then, expect my lord to be generous in his bids for new artifacts."

She spoke for Melchom, Duke of Greed. Anruelu’s coffers had grown bloated from the gold of Hell’s treasurer.

"Heaven anticipates at least one year and a half before it deploys to aid the realms of Ayther," Laurent said with equal use of stealthing magic. "As always, we honor the pact of neutrality with Aaru... but say the word, and the Seraphim will send its mightiest to protect your fair city."

Anruelu waved them both back so he could think. Certainly he wasn’t about to hand over his city to Heaven. And Hell’s coffers would be available for only so long before the next Heavenswar, when trade with the moon would evaporate. Aaru could not openly support either faction during wartime. That was part of the treaty that kept the city’s ecosystem in balance.

What the two said often overlapped, and Anruelu knew they both stayed in regular communication with their respective overlords. His problem had not changed. Halie was still gone. Having the Delver Prime guard him was the surest way to stay ahead of the assassins who would try to tip the balance of the city. He would not die like his great-grandfather, slain in the chaos of the last Heavenswar.

He frowned harder. He did not want the Delver Prime to be gone for an entire year. Gods knew he’d turned down enough offers to have the woman assassinated. She was damned useful, and the only woman to reach the seventh stratum and return alive, bearing an entire fortune on her back.

But Anruelu’s fortune was no good to him dead.

Turning to his two contracted aides, he addressed them both.

"Find out where the Delver Prime has gone. I will provide an artifact of the fifth stratum to whoever brings me her whereabouts - provided she is there when I send my agents."

"It will be done," Sesca bowed lightly with a flick of her tail, before turning to leave the room. She opened the door to the balcony and dove her way into the night.

"I’ll see to it," Laurent said with a noticeably more clipped bow. He left by the other balcony, his takeoff far more dignified.

As soon as they were both gone, Anruelu went back to eating his grapes but remained seated upright, crouching over the small table as though he were pondering a chessboard instead of a plate of fruits.

Something was going on, and he had no idea who he should watch out for.

His divine and demonic aides - familiars, technically, but unbonded except by contract magic - were easy enough to manage, pitted against each other. The Oracle was a mystery but had so far proven profitable and relatively harmless, at least to him. He had people killed at times, based on some of her predictions, but she’d never had cause to harm him...

Yet he couldn’t get over distrusting her. Maybe it was simply that he’d never seen her face, but Laurent and Sesca didn’t know what to make of her either. When she first appeared in Aaru almost twenty years ago, both marveled at the accuracy of her prophecies. Both tried to tempt her to serve Heaven or Hell before accepting that the Oracle would serve Anruelu instead.

And then there was Halie... Simple, uncomplicated Halie.

She had appeared a year after the Oracle. Wanted across the northern continent for the slaughter of civilians, city guardsmen, and one Priest of the Three in Grisfort. Supposedly she’d also stolen a great treasure, but since Grisfort wasn’t about to admit what had been stolen, that would remain a mystery.

There was always an air of waiting about her. Like she was just biding her time for something more important to her than being the strongest delver to face the Duat. She had everything a mortal woman could want, and yet there was something more she wanted. What was it? Was it her treasure?

Maybe it had something to do with that? Maybe Halie had gone to check on it...

In its own way, trying to divine Halie’s thoughts was even harder than conversing with the Oracle. The giantess followed orders, provided they were lawful, and fulfilled her role as Prime Delver to the last detail... But she was too damn quiet.

And yet Anruelu always had the sense that she was looking down on him. In a metaphorical sense. Since she was a giant she looked down on everyone that wasn’t of her race, and even then she was rather tall.

Anruelu didn’t like his situation one bit... but Halie had only been gone for a day. She’d been gone longer on delves into the Duat...

He had a bad feeling, and Anruelu always trusted his feelings over anything else. He needed to be ready in case Halie proved to be more trouble than she was worth.

Looking up, he snapped his finger for the head servant. Slave, really. Some adventurer who had gone too far into debt and was sold. The half-demon woman bowed as she finished approaching.

"Tell the Lord of the Arena that I wish to host a tournament... Open to those who have faced the fourth strata and beyond," he ordered.

"Lord Bloodsure will want to know why and when, Honored Tower," the slave replied.

"As soon as he is able!" Anruelu shouted. "And he will keep hosting tournaments until I am satisfied with recruiting his champions as my guards." With a wave of his hand he dismissed her, and she left as fast as her hoofed feet could take her.

His gut told him it was time to replace Halie.

Or kill her.

If she didn’t come back in one month, or if he managed to find and summon her, he would go with his gut.

As his decision settled into his mind, Tower Lord Anruelu Savat walked over to the eastern balcony and stared over the well-lit buildings of the City Unsleeping.

The Hollow Mesa, with its arena, would soon come alive for his demands. He tried to imagine the roar of the crowds. The view from his box, close to the action and wonderfully shaded against the desert sun...

Yet another roar replaced it in his imagination. Born from a memory of being aboard a ship, and living for weeks in sickness and terror.

The roar of ocean waves... even though the ocean was far, far away from this desert oasis.

From his oasis.

His dynasty.

---

End of Volume 1