“Queen Beryl, thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” Queen Calath said simply, looking into the mirror at the impassive, icy façade of Yisara’s ruler. Beryl Yisara was tall for her people and possessed an athletic figure, though she was still several inches shy of six feet. Her blue eyes glittered with an iron will Calath could admire, and she wasn’t wearing the usual regalia, instead dressed for battle, wearing chainmail, greaves, and vambraces, with a sword at her side. The only sign of her station was the simple presence circlet atop her tightly braided hair.

“We have little enough time to speak, Queen Calath. Why are you contacting me now?” Beryl asked icily, her eyes narrow.

“Very well. One of my agents has reported that Diane and Jaine will be attending the dedication of the new temple of Tyria in Westgate in the next two weeks. I’m uncertain if it’s possible, but I have a force in the field near the city, and if they’re able they’ll attempt to rescue your mother and sister,” Calath replied, suppressing a smile at the momentary loss of the young monarch’s poise, as Beryl’s eyes widened.

The moment quickly passed and Beryl recovered, speaking after a brief pause. “That is excellent news, and if you succeed, it would greatly please my father and I. However, that seems a minor reason to contact me in this manner.”

“It is,” Calath admitted, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The other matter is twofold. First, one of Kelvanis’ Justicars attempted to infiltrate and take over Galthor’s castle last night with the aid of a traitor. He failed and was slain, but in the process transformed into a crimson-skinned demon, and summoned a pair of succubi warriors that might have succeeded had the Baron not taken measures against demons. Thus, we have a significant victory over Kelvanis, tempered by the continued siege of Galthor, as well as confirmation of their alliance with demonic forces. I’m also certain you’ve been informed of Kelvanis’ attempted assassination of the dungeon of Beacon two days ago, the entity called Sistina.”

“I’m glad to hear of your Baron’s success,” Beryl said, a flicker of satisfaction crossing her face as her hand clenched around the hilt of her sword. “The information is good to be aware of as well, and I was informed of the assassination attempt, yes.”

“Excellent. In their attempt, I believe Kelvanis has shown that they believe Beacon to be a threat to them,” Calath explained. “I intend to defend the city to the best of my ability, but with the siege that my nation is under, I’m forced to leave Beacon largely on its own. If I am able to rescue your lost family, I beg you to consider joining the war. Your presence on the battlefield would force Kelvanis to split their army, and even before the addition of Beacon, their superiority over both of our nations was a near thing. I truly believe that our only chance will be if you stand with us.”

“I cannot promise that, Queen Calath.” Beryl spoke decisively, and as she did, Calath’s heart sank slightly. Her disappointment froze as the other queen continued. “It’s not that I don’t want to aid you. If you can rescue my mother and Jaine, I will do everything in my power to convince the nobles to join the war. I believe that such an event would be enough to convince them, but until I’ve spoken with them, I cannot promise you. I will promise to argue your case strenuously before them, however.”

“That… is all I can ask for, honestly speaking. While I may have hoped for more, it was simply that, a hope. Thank you, Queen Beryl,” Calath replied, relief replacing the disappointment, and she bowed her head.

“Don’t thank me. I believe I may hate Kelvanis even more than you yourselves do,” Beryl replied with bared teeth, and glanced off to the side, frowning. “However, the mana stones are growing weak. I must go. May Tianna’s grace go with thy nation.”

“And with yours,” Calath replied warmly, watching as the image in the mirror faded, then hissed softly. “Finally! Now to see if we can get to them…”

* * *

Wenris was getting more nervous the closer she got to the moment of her escape. Even with her patience, three thousand years had been a long time, and the fear of what might happen if she made a misstep was haunting.

Still, she’d made extensive plans for the coming days. It wasn’t like she was going into this blind, and Her Lady had left things available to aid Wenris in her efforts. Leaking information to some of the elven spies had been one of the first steps, and hopefully it’d get them thinking in the right direction. If it didn’t, it would make her job harder, but that was why you never had only one escape route.

Taking any of the others would lose her prize, though, and Wenris desperately didn’t want to lose Diane. The elf had a wonderful magical gift and a strong mind, which was something any demon would value, let alone a demon of her age. To possess a mortal like that utterly was a rare opportunity indeed.

Thinking of Diane, the succubus looked into the garden behind the Kelvanath palace. It was fairly expansive, with a decent number of hedgerows and paths. Wenris had always thought it was amusing how many gardens had a hedge maze. Still, the garden was arranged around a large, shallow pond, and Diane was sitting beneath a tree, looking at the water as she ate her lunch.

A faint part of Wenris felt pity for the former queen, at how alone and lost her posture said she was. It was only a faint sensation, but even that was remarkable for her, the succubus reflected. Demons weren’t intended to feel guilt, so few of them could feel such things. If she’d ever shown a hint of weakness, Irethiel would have destroyed her, never mind that she’d been a valuable, loyal servant for centuries. Even so, Wenris reveled in that tiny sensation internally, knowing that it meant she hadn’t fully lost her mortal life.

It was emotions like her pity and the stronger dislike and hatred for Irethiel and Ulvian that had led Wenris to make the offer she had to Diane. Not taking Jaine for herself was a slight loss compared to Diane and Jaine combined, but if the former monarch willingly submitted to Wenris, it would save enough time to make it worth the loss.

Shaking her head, Wenris looked away from the lonely figure of Diane, murmuring brightly, “Enough of that! Time to have some fun.”

Wenris looked in the mirror, and her skin blurred and her figure shrank to match that of a pretty but not beautiful local, her skin tanned but clear of blemishes, with agate-brown eyes and soft brown hair. Looking herself over critically, she nodded in satisfaction, conjuring a plain set of clothing and making her way toward the servant’s entrance. There was a good tavern near the palace, and she’d never found it hard to find company.

* * *

“Oh, gods damn it all! Ivan, what were you doing?” Ulvian asked loudly, staring at the lifegem sitting in a drawer of his desk.

There were a dozen lifegems, but the two most prominent were those of Elissa and Ivan, his oldest companions. Each of the gems shone a different array of colors, save for Ivan’s black, cracked gemstone. Elissa’s burned with a strange purple flame, the brightest of the various lifegems, but it was almost normal to him by this point. The problem was that Ivan had been in charge of attacking Sifaren, and if he’d died…

Shaking off his frustration, Ulvian closed the drawer hard, then winced as he heard the gems knock against each other. Taking a moment to steady himself, the Archon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, speaking aloud. “Calmly, Ulvian. Ivan was a meticulous planner, but chance can foul up the best of plans. Unlike most others, Ivan at least would have sent you messages telling you what he planned to do. So…”

Making certain to wipe the frustration from his face, Ulvian put on a pleasant expression and rang a bell on his desk. Moments later one of the servants opened the door, the young man bowing his head for a moment before looking inquisitively at the Archon. “You called, Your Excellency?”

“Thank you for coming promptly, Aaron. I’ve a rather urgent task for you. I need all dispatches from Justicar Hall to myself that have come in the last week,” Ulvian told the servant, his smile growing a little more real. He did love his staff’s efficiency. “I also need any battle plans he might have submitted.”

“Right away, Your Excellency,” Aaron replied, bobbing his head and pausing just long enough to be certain there wasn’t anything else before rushing off on his errand.

* * *

Much later that evening, Ulvian was in an unpleasant mood. It had taken far longer than he would have liked to piece together what must have happened.

The first clue had been Ivan’s plan to infiltrate Galthor and behead its leadership. It actually was part of the plans that Ulvian had helped put together himself, using Farren Galthor to infiltrate the city, but since the previous night had been when Ivan had intended to put the plan into action, he must have died in the process.

“The question is, how did it happen? Chance? Likely not, with how Farin and Vivian died as well,” Ulvian murmured to himself, reminding himself of how two of his Enforcers-turned-demons had been killed, according to their masters here in town. That had been even more unpleasant to learn, as badly as the loss of Ivan stung. The only one he trusted as much as Ivan was Elissa, and she wasn’t the type to be a warlord.

“Is something the matter, love?” a husky, breathless voice murmured in Ulvian’s ear, and he yelped, almost jumping out of his skin as a hand fell to his dagger… and on seeing the speaker, he relaxed, swallowing as he noticed the obsidian, claw-like nails far too close to his throat.

“Lady Reyviss, I wish you would not delight in taking me off-guard. I’m afraid that one of these days one of us is going to perish in the process, and it’s far too likely to be me,” Ulvian replied, looking into the amber eyes of Irethiel’s demonic messenger.

Reyviss was a species of demon he’d never seen before her appearance in his rooms one evening. She had a pair of short black horns that extended from just below her hairline, a long, fleshy tail, and skin as crimson as blood, along with a voluptuous figure that seemed similar to succubi. She wore black demon-bone armor, and her lips were black, framing extended incisors all too appropriate to a vampire, and which injected a venom that he knew from experience made a person resist magical healing for a number of days. Her hair was black as well, braided behind her, and he blinked, wondering if it was longer than it had been the last time.

“Where would the fun in that be? If you’re foolish enough to allow me to kill you, you deserve what happens,” Reyviss replied with a soft giggle, smiling more as she leaned back, stretching languidly like a cat as she began circling his desk, sitting on the corner of it comfortably. “Besides, it tests how well your heart works. If it’s going to fail, it’ll likely do so in moments of stress. It’s good for you.”

Coughing nervously, Ulvian quickly changed the subject. “Ah, may I ask why you’ve come here this time, Lady Reyviss? I’m afraid I just mysteriously lost one of my best men, and I’m trying to figure out how to correct for it.”

“I believe I told you, I am not a lady,” Reyviss replied lazily, but her lashing tail and steady gaze betrayed something more predatory, making Ulvian’s blood chill.

“Why, yes, but…” Ulvian paused, then sighed and asked helplessly, “May I ask how you’d like to be addressed?”

“Call me Reyviss. No more and no less. It isn’t your place to learn any of my titles,” Reyviss replied, smiling and the hostile air easing slightly. “Now, you were saying?”

“As you wish,” Ulvian conceded, unsettled by the demoness’ reaction. Just when he thought he understood them, they would change their minds again. “May I ask why you’re here, Reyviss?”

“I’m here because Ivan Hall accepted Milady’s bargain, gaining power and the aid of two of her servants, just before they were all destroyed utterly. No reforming in her realm, no information from them, nothing.” Reyviss’ smile vanished, and the sudden anger in her eyes made Ulvian pale slightly. “Combined with what has occurred before this, Milady is unhappy.”

“I… I see. I can fully understand her displeasure,” Ulvian replied carefully, his thoughts racing. “I will do my best to deal with those who slew them, but at present there is little I can do.”

“Correct. However, in the near future, that will change,” Reyviss replied, reaching out to the side. With a single nail she seemed to slit open space itself with a line of burning fire. Reaching into it, she began to pull out a suit of armor.

The armor was a full suit of plate designed for a woman, but built to hug their curves and expose a generous amount of cleavage, a fact that made Ulvian frown. The plates were various hues of purple, and for a moment he wondered at the purpose of them, until he reached with threads of mana to touch the armor, only to have his threads incinerated by raw power.

“Ah, ah! Don’t touch that way. This is Tyria’s armor,” Reyviss chided as she saw him flinch, pulling out the pauldrons and attached cloak, both a deep purple. “I must add, make certain that you’re ready when you armor her. It’s enchanted to lock around her, and only Milady holds the key. Though I admit the goddess will likely be able to remove it as well.”

At her words he noticed a couple of small keyholes in the armor, built into what almost looked like a belt section, and the part that would hold the pauldrons in place. Finally she withdrew a large bastard sword in its sheath.

“May I ask what it is you’re intending? Or that the Queen of Chains has in mind?” Ulvian asked, staring at the powerful items on the desk. They didn’t resemble the crimson-edged armament that he’d seen before, but they’d also been reforged by a demon queen of slavery.

“Quite simply, in the next few weeks, Tyria will be ready. Oh, she won’t be fully corrupted, but the rest is something that can be finalized over time, and the adulation of Kelvanis will do a wonderful job of neutralizing Medaea’s faith to make it easier,” Reyviss explained, then smiled more widely as she continued. “As for what she’ll do? Isn’t it simple?”

Pointing at the sword, Reyviss asked sweetly, “What mortal army will not quail and break before the wrath of an angry goddess?”