Overlady: Attack of the Minions (Thread II)
- Thread starter EarthScorpion
- Start date
- Fantasy
- Location
- Can't read map
Location of Evil Overlady of the North is already known to ?Brimir Church? as she was attacked by assassins? With popes being mad... is it likely there are few "holly" assassin orders that ask for and get penance before performing mission? And there is likely collecting various books on Evil to better combat it. Or proving id given magic spell sinful or not, like shooting lightning at corpse to see is it unholy method of resurrection? Sometimes fighting Evil with Evil, too?
So what if some church's priest/necromancer summons ghosts of those killed assassins since they haven't reported for some time now? Henrieta had mask, Louise was of uncovered face, Jessica's face also seen?
Enemy knows: location of Overlady's lair is likely known, defences were it seem avoided by portal and there was some, unidentified at first, pink haired girl with gauntlet as overlady's? Compare faces to portraits of other known peoples, though "fight" might have happened too fast to properly remember faces?
So what if some church's priest/necromancer summons ghosts of those killed assassins since they haven't reported for some time now? Henrieta had mask, Louise was of uncovered face, Jessica's face also seen?
Enemy knows: location of Overlady's lair is likely known, defences were it seem avoided by portal and there was some, unidentified at first, pink haired girl with gauntlet as overlady's? Compare faces to portraits of other known peoples, though "fight" might have happened too fast to properly remember faces?
To be fair, most Evil people aren't Overlords/ladies and don't have access to Minions.
Orphans are a viable substitute, but you'd have to outsource the job of making new orphans to someone else, otherwise there is too great a chance to accidentally produce a hero out for vengeance.
- Location
- The Old Dominion
Family though is more far likely to avenge the fallen than minions or henchmen, have ties beyond fear and have uses beyond being canon fodder.
Lets remember Louis did outlast all his original enemies and likely in some cases their entire line of descendants by centuries while other villains were slain by heroes or backstabbed by their head henchman in a single lifetime.
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I'm uncertain if we've enough information about that assassination attempt to really do much speculation on the subject. Given that nothing further seems to have come of it and that it's been a long time since that attempt, I don't think that whomever is behind it is the sort that is dedicated to trying again and again until it sticks. Furthermore all but one of the assassins died, and the last was captured whilst severely wounded, so the faces of those barefaced at the time aren't gonna make it back to the masterminds of the attempt.
Barring some magics the story has yet to introduce to us.
Part 11-2
"If fighting is sure to result in victory, then you must fight, even should the ruler forbid it; if fighting will not result in victory, then you must not fight even at the ruler's bidding. Unless, of course, by deliberate defeat you can waste the troops most loyal to the ruler and send them to their pointless deaths. Always remember what 'victory' entails, and how your definition may differ to your ruler's."
– Louis de la Vallière, the Bloody Duke
'Twas the night before Silver Pentecost, and all through the university, many a thing stirred, especially a cultist sorority.
"This weighs an awful lot, Mag," Jacqueline complained, as she and several other cultists tried to manhandle a potted oak tree into the Grand Hall. "Isn't this something that the help should be doing?"
Magdalene sighed. "Jacqueline, why are you not using magic?" she asked acidly, as with a swish and a flick of her wand several large boxes full of decorations floated by.
"… um."
"You forgot that you're a ma… no. Never mind." Magdalene smiled, an effect rather ruined by her natural tendency to stand in shadow with only her glasses catching the light. "Remember, everyone! Strive to be full of Pentacle joy and happiness! It will certainly annoy the Madame de Montespan, and when it comes down to it, isn't that plenty of reason to do anything?"
Between the two of them, Louise and Magdalene had calculated that very few break-ins in the past had involved sneaking in to a location to hold socially acceptable religious events. The guards were all taking a nap after festively-dressed cultists had charitably provided them with spiked spiced rum and mince pies full of sedatives, and so they were taking naps next to the nice warm fire in the guardroom. This meant that the cultists had plenty of time to sneak in the decorations, along with the orphans they had bribed a nearby orphanage to lend them.
"Sara!" Magdalene demanded. "How are the choirs coming along?"
"Just wonderful, darling! The orphans came pre-trained! I've got them carrying wreaths and garlands at the moment."
Magdalene sniffed, somewhat irked that the world had denied her a chance to criticise it.
And so with great joy, only some of it pretended, they got on with decorating the inside of the university Great Hall. Most years this would have been done already, and many of the women fondly remembered their student days here and the way that free spiced wine was traditionally provided here to the worthy. But this year everything was cold and dark, and the religious iconography had been stripped from the walls. The Madame de Montespan had claimed that this was because the new theology department she had so graciously funded was a better place for these things, but the cultists were – mostly – not fools and could recognise this for what it was.
A mark of the influence of Athe, enforced on the world.
Backstage at the Cabal Awards, everything was all aflutter. While the public facing elements of the show may have been suave and stylish, here in the bowels of the building things were filled with screaming, wailing and fear.
More than usual for the Abyss, that was.
"Lightning check! Where is the lightning check team! Someone get an occultist back there pronto!"
"Tser'ah is being a total deva! She's saying that her dressing room is too small! Do we have somewhere else to put her?"
"Oh shit, shit, shit, the Troll King is stoned! He can't give a speech like this!"
Compared to the squirming inchoate chaos, things were relatively calm in Louise's changing room. Jessica was here with her, helping her put the final preparations on her outfit. But this was purely a relative thing. Quite apart from the fact that Louise's nerves were as taut as a garrotte, Jessica was having to make on-the-fly adaptions to her design and was swearing like a sailor as she did so.
"That utter bitch, Izah'belya!" she grumbled, sewing machine screaming like a dying saint. She was very stressed and so was looking rather fetchingly handsome. "How dare she go and show off someone in cloth of darkness! Did she know I was buying it up? I bet she did! Her and her stupid fucking Dark Elves!"
Louise huddled in an oversized chair in the corner of the room, wearing a dressing gown and with her make-up only partially done. Jessica had made her wear her gauntlets to stop her from biting her nails. She clattered faintly, as she trembled from stress. "It's all going wrong," she muttered. "It's all gone wrong. The dr-dress has gone wrong and I'm s-so nervous that I c-can't speak without stuttering and… and…"
"Chin up," Jessica said through clenched teeth. "It'll be all right on the night."
"This is the night!"
"Well, it'll be already in… like, an hour or so. Just think about it. Once this is done, it's done and you won't have to do anything like this for a whole – godfucking shitbuggering goat-arse – year! At least!"
"What, are you crazy?" Louise snapped, rather wishing that she wasn't a well-bred lady and could swear like Jessica could. It sounded relaxing. "I'm n-n-never doing this again!"
"Well, next time I'll have the dress ready on time and won't have to re-make it because Izah'belya totally copied me!"
"Next time?" Louise wailed in desperation.
"Look, just… just think about how Henrietta is going to be making her grand entrance and pray to all the forces of the Abyss that she doesn't fuck everything up!"
This only produced a further noise of distress from the overlady, and she slumped over to hug her legs and press her face into her knees.
Jessica was starting to get the feeling that she perhaps was not the most reassuring person at the moment. It was probably because she could feel her tailbone growing notably, and had a headache from how her horns were starting to force their way through her skin.
Outside, the forces of Evil were making their appearances on the blood-soaked carpet. Naturally, a looming shirtless red-skinned demon and a succubus were providing commentary to the audience watching from home.
"And there goes Shafela the Marked. She's been very quiet this past year, but the rumours say that she has a lot of power in the current Albionese government," the succubus said.
"I have to say, Maelar'gnee, burning purple forehead runes are so last year," the male demon observed. "And so much black?"
"I know, right? Black is always the new black, but, darling, someone has to tell her that she's far too plain about it. She never does anything interesting with it. What do you think, I'ohn?"
"She's barely a five in my books," he added. "She should consider a mysterious mask, because that scowl is not hot."
Considering the fact that the voices were being broadcast, the reason for the scowl may have been self-evident. But the attention was already moving to the newest carriage moving along in the row.
"And who's this?" asked the succubus. "Why, it's Carmine, Countess of Blood." Cattleya swept out of the carriage, in a low-cut dress. Jessica had judged that she could get away with a smaller mask if no one was looking at her face, and in fairness, she had probably been right. "And of course, Gnarl the Gnarled."
Gnarl shot a malicious grin up at the commentators, and tipped his top hat at her. The wizened old minion was wearing a spotless tuxedo, complete with a gold-rimmed monocle. The succubus blushed at that.
"Ah, that malevolent old goblin never fails to disappoint," the demon said.
"He cuts quite a dashing figure for a minion," Maelar'gnee added.
Io'hn looked at her strangely. "Do you really mean that?" he asked, pulling a face.
"Hey, don't judge me!"
"Yes, but he's an ugly old goblin in a top hat," he said.
"Knowledge is power, and power is attractive, so someone as wise as him is a total hottie," she argued. "The maths is inarguable!"
Io'hn opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. "And look who it is getting out now," he said quickly, to change the topic away from his co-host's perversions. "Why, it's the Voice of the Steel Maiden! And wow, has she gone to the deathly side!"
Henrietta stepped out of the coach. 'Skulls' were the dominant theme of her attire, blended into the general armoured aesthetic that was characteristic of Louise's forces. Her helmet was a skull, her hair flowing out of the back. She wore a tight-fitting cuirass that bore two more prominent skulls, or four if you counted the pauldrons. Louise's protests had been overruled in the name of fashion and/or rebellion against one's parents, and thus the plate was both midriff bearing and backless in a way that would have had Emperor Lee frowning at the suboptimal protection. Layers upon layers of sheer crimson fabric covered her legs in a way that Jessica hoped would lead the fashion journals to use the phrase 'waterfall of blood'. A skull-headed staff topped off the ensemble.
"Well, the rumours were that she had embraced the path of the necromancer, and she's certainly open about it," Maelar'gne observed.
"Necromancer? 'Ell, I'd necromance 'er, if you know what I mean."
"You mean slowly and painfully kill her over a period of days, preserving her corpse through vile enchantments and trapping her soul in a cold dead corpse where she will be doomed to be a slave to all your whims?"
The man smiled widely. "Exactly."
The forces of Evil thronged in a high-ceilinged cavern-anteroom before the awards began. There were canapés, and some of them were even things that a human might want to eat. Red lighting dominated, and erratic illumination cast long shadows over the faces of the participants. Here and there, burning skulls floated through the air, casting light down on particularly famous or important demons. And of course, the journaleers were everywhere. Everyone who was anyone in the legions of wickedness wanted to be seen here.
Cattleya had her orders as she made her way into the reception. They were very specific orders. Her little sister was in a bossy mood, and she hadn't been tolerating any dissent. Why, Cattleya hadn't even been able to tell her that she had absolutely no objections to doing what she had been told.
She had her target; Athe.
Of course, first came the mingling while she tried to track him down. It wasn't like she should look desperate, after all. So like a ship broaching the ocean waves, she bustled forwards drawing no small amount of attention from the serried ranks of wickedness and darkness. They were very much focussed on her bustle.
And much as Cattleya would like to sink her fangs into some of the demonesses who were admiring her, she couldn't let herself get too distracted. She also couldn't ruin her dress by getting blood on it, or both her sister and Jessica would be really unconscionably mean about it.
In the end, she located Athe, talking to a bulky demon barely crammed into a sharp grey suit, who wore a bound bundle of wooden rods on his back. An axehead protruded from the peculiar contraption.
Athe favoured Cattleya with a benevolent smile. "Ah, Carmine," he said happily. "So wicked to be seeing you again. I found your notes on the comparative anatomy of Cathayan snow-tigers to be very good quality indeed."
Cattleya forced blood into her cheeks, so she could blush. "You're too kind, your Darkness," she said.
"Nonsense! Your soul might be worthless, but your mind is keen and your obsession with animals is much akin to my own. Through comparison of men with beasts and pointing out their many similarities, faith in the Good nature of man can easily be dismissed!" he said. "Carmine, this is an old acquaintance of mine, Faskes."
"Don't let me get in your way," the dark deity rumbled. "Later, Athe."
"Nasty chap," Athe said. "I think that's why I like him. He's all gut feelings and brute force, and that means he's very skilled with the masses. I think I can use him. So, you were over in Cathay?"
"Oh yes," Cattleya said. "Thwarting the forces of Good, you know how it is. Well, that was what the Overlady was doing. I was there to keep her safe, and of course go after the local wildlife! I found hundreds of new beetle species I've never seen before!"
"Ah, beetles. I am quite inordinately fond of them," Athe agreed, a red twinkle in his eyes. "Sometimes I have thought that it might be better to wipe out mankind and replace them with cockroaches and other insects who would not believe in gods. That would be a world that would please me. Worship is just so offensive, and not in a bad way. My sister, Antithe, is even more violently opposed to it."
One of the reason that Cattleya was the one doing this was that most of her bodily reactions were habit, rather than necessary. As a result, she did not gulp when she heard such a diabolical plan. "How fascinating, your Darkness," she said sunnily. Not literally sunnily, of course, because the sun made her burn up and ignite. She scowled. "Though… may I say something? Something more… important?"
He smiled at her. "Of course, Carmine. I am fond of you."
"Well… have you noticed anything strange going on in Amstelredamme?" she asked. "It's just that the overlady is finding that suddenly her dark power is finding that there are holy places within the city – within the university – that repel her. She's been trying to scry them, but they're interfering with her efforts."
Athe frowned. "Holy places?" he asked, lines furrowed in his forehead. He tugged one of the patches sewn onto the elbows of his jacket. "No, that's not right. There shouldn't be holy places there." His frown deepened. "But I can feel it there, yes," he said, after some thought. "There are holy places scattered through the entire building."
"Gosh!" Cattleya said, knowing full well that Louise and Magdalene had put quite a lot of effort to ensure that there were secret shrines smuggled into hidden places. "I bow to your dark power. My overlady merely found that she could not scry certain places. But who could be doing that?"
"Well… there might be Eleanore de la Vallière to blame," Athe said, glowering. "She usually is. She has thwarted my efforts in that city for far too long."
Cattleya frowned, and that wasn't faked or hidden. She had more than a little bit of a grudge against her big sister, for the whole 'it was her fault she'd been murdered and turned into an undead monstrosity'. That was the sort of thing that built up a grudge. Eleanore had kept well away from her since then. As far as she was concerned, Eleanore deserved to have mildly unpleasant things happen to her in jail for a few years – and more cruelly, be denied access to all her books. "No, no," Cattleya said. "She is imprisoned, isn't she?"
"That is true," Athe said, scowling. "And I've made sure that she's watched. But she's stayed there. So someone else is hiding things from me in the city. And making sure I can go nowhere near them."
"Surely as a dark god, you can go where you want?" she asked ingenuously, twirling a finger in her dress.
"Ah, I would wish that, but my power – and my nature – imposes certain limits on me," Athe said absent-mindedly. "One that my enemies might know. Yes, something that might be used against me by enemies – or traitors…"
"Traitors? But surely no one could betray you!" Cattleya said. "I can't think of anyone who would try to steal your power." She paused. "They'd have to be in Amstelredamme and I can't think of any of your servants who might do that!" She might have been layering it on a little thick, but she was very aware that she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve. Though not literally! That would be messy! And as a vampire, removing her heart killed her. Just like a human! Though she could get better from it, unlike most humans!
"Who indeed…" Athe said slowly. He smiled at Cattleya, but he was distracted. "We should talk later. I would like to speak to your overlady after things are over."
"Well, she's giving a speech today, so you don't want to miss it!" Cattleya said happily. "She's been practicing really hard after the Dragon Emperor couldn't make it and she got called on to replace him at short notice! Poor her! It's been really hard getting everything arranged!"
"Urgh, look at her."
"So pink! Look at how her skin looks. I'd be ashamed to show my face like that, like, ever. Not that she's showing her face. I bet she's, like, so ugly under that helmet."
"Her nose is probably, like, right in your face. I'm so glad I got rid of mine!"
Henrietta started to hear the whispers as she mingled. It meant that her smile in some of the journaleers' sketches was more than a little rigid.
"Well, of course I plan to raise the dead. I want revenge," she said, in response to a question. "The forces of the Council have wronged me terribly."
"I know, right? What is she thinking, going out like that?" the whispers in the background went. "How much do you think she weighs?"
"And the Steel Maiden killed one of them, so of course I swore allegiance to her," Henrietta added, trying to drown out the voices.
"I bet her thighs are totally touching and you can't even count her ribs. Like, ohmydarkgod, she could totally lose a good thirty kilos of meat."
"There's no need to shout," the journaleer said.
"I'm sorry, I get quite passionate about revenge," Henrietta said brusquely. Who were those whispering voices? She tried to look for them, but when surrounded by so many demons and other monsters it was hard to make out who might be whispering.
"Ah, a bad thing, a bad thing, but there is such thing as manners," the journaleer said, adjusting his cravat. "Well, if you'll excuse me…"
She was left alone for a moment. Taking a breath, she slunk off to the side of the reception. She wondered how Louise was doing, and hoped her friend wasn't panicking too much. She could see Cattleya talking avidly with the dark god Athe, while down the other end of the hall the dragons loomed over everyone else. Henrietta had firmly decided to keep well away from them. They might be able to smell out a princess. Admittedly, apparently all the daughters of the Succubus Queen were also princesses, so they might have a problem picking her out of the general princess-ness, but that wasn't a risk she was prepared to take.
Two women made their way over to her. Henrietta didn't think they were demons. They resembled bags of skin like tanned leather, filled with bones. Straw-like bleached blonde hair cascaded down from heads that were in truth really just skulls. One of them was missing her nose entirely. Their milky eyes were judging her, and Henrietta felt a surge of instinctual shame. They were wearing skimpy, skull-festooned dresses that showed off their painfully thin bodies, and their perfume couldn't drown out the scent of embalming fluid. And Henrietta was sure there was something incredibly wrong with their breasts, because she had two herself and was aware of the shape they should be. She would have thought that they were hiding overstuffed bags of flour under their dresses, were it not for the fact that she could see enough that the strangers were simply deformed.
"May I help you?" she asked.
"So, like, hello," the first of them said, flicking her unnatural hair. She spoke in a breathy whisper like the noise of an unsealed tomb. Henrietta was almost sure she was one of the two whisperers. "I'm The Winter Rose That Blossoms In The Depths Of Dead Gardens and she's The Rotting Blackened Flesh Unearthed From Unhallowed Graves."
"But you can totally call me Flesh and her, like, Winter," the other said. "We totally didn't know you were a necromancer!"
"Yes, uh, well, I only started learning in the last year," Henrietta said politely. The hair on her neck was standing on end.
"A word of advice for you, sweetie," said Winter. "You really need to think more about your appearance. You're letting down the necromancers by walking around looking like that."
Henrietta looked down at herself, confused. She thought the dress was quite… well, not nice, but it made her look attractive. "Excuse me?"
"Look at all that muscle! And, like, there is way too much water in you. You look like a blimp, darling."
"I'm on a super-great diet where I don't drink any water or eat any food and feed only off souls and it is doing wonders for my complexion," Flesh contributed. "You are so going to get old and die like that. You need to look into getting a phylactery. It is, like, the must-have accessory for a necromancer. You'll never get really powerful if you don't have one. It's the done thing. People'll never respect you if you don't keep up with the look of the modern tomb."
Henrietta swallowed, looking between them. "You mean it?" she asked nervously.
"Oh, yah, yah. It's the done thing. And, darling, it'll help you shed all those extra kilos of fat," Winter said. "You won't have to cover your face, either! I know an excellent surgeon that'll help you fix it up! But you're going to have to work at it."
"That muscle is so barbarian princess," Flesh agreed. "You'll never find a consort if you look like that. The journals will really mock you if they see you with a trace of cellulite, so just get rid of those bothersome body processes. Men think it's ugly and the thanocratic houses won't hire you. They'll just pretend otherwise if they think you're powerful, but honey, they really want to be able to fit their hands around your waist."
"You're wrong!" Henrietta snapped, unable to stop herself. How dare they! How dare they! Her prince had loved her and he hadn't been lying and he hadn't thought that she was ugly! "Men don't… they don't…"
Winter sniggered. "So naïve, darling. But run off crying. You'll learn. Men'll leave you, or go die on you. They always do. There's no life for a woman necromancer if she looks like she's getting old. All the positions dry up if they think you won't look good sprawled on the side of their throne."
"I think I've heard enough! Farewell!" Henrietta stormed off, the words nagging at the back of her head. Her life was so hollow and empty without her prince, deprived of that central sunlight. She felt like a moon, a thing that spent half its time in darkness and never truly showed its face. He had died on her. That was true. And… and she was going to succeed! She was going to master life and death and find her prince in the grey realms of the Dead and drag him back to life! He would love her again!
But it had been years since he had seen her. She'd put on muscle when she was a captive at the palace. Would he still find her pretty?
No. Of course he would. Of course he would. But the doubt still nagged at her.
It was only when she nearly walked into someone waist-high that she realised she had stumbled across the junior part of the Cabal Awards. Over there, a collection of teenage succubae gossiped and shot side glances at pimply incubi, who were staring back with vacant eyes. The sheer quantity of pubescent lust there was making Henrietta's eyes mist over with the thought of Prince Cearl, so she kept well away. A young girl apparently entirely made of blood-soaked ribbons ran past her, giggling.
"Now, come on children!" called out a weary-sounding demon. Her long-fingered hands caressed the air to the sound of music, but her hair moved like limbs, ensnaring a number of younger demons. "And Ec-… oh, Unspeakable Blue, where's she got to now?"
"Grandmother! Oh, oh! She's run off again!" a grey-haired little girl with burning green eyes said with glee. "And Cally's pulling my hair!"
"Am not! That's Ratty! He's just making it look like it's me!" protested a taller girl, dressed all in black save for her red veil that was slowly oozing blood.
"Granny, they're bullying me!" a handsome little boy said, flashing literally pearly teeth. "They're just trying to blame me because they were meant to be watching V and Zana, and they got loose!"
"You were meant to be watching them too, idiot!" the grey-haired girl exploded.
"I swear, this is the last time I'll take you anywhere if you don't all start behaving!" their grandmother snapped. "Would you be doing this if your mother was here?"
This only produced a chorus of whining as she dragged them off.
"Honestly," said a purple-skinned bald demoness said to Henrietta, shaking her head sadly. "I don't even know why they let children come to these things. They have no idea how to behave properly. Their mother must spoil them rotten."
She agreed. No sooner had Henrietta escaped one horde of demonic brats than she walked into a blond girl who looked to be around the same age as her.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she apologised to Henrietta with a pronounced Albionese accent. "I'm just trying to find where Magda has gotten to. I should have been looking where I was going!"
"Oh, no, no, it was all my fault," Henrietta lied. She took in the other woman and her eyes narrowed. Perhaps she was underestimating her age, because while she might have had a youthful face her bust could only have been described as 'maternal'. And her ears were pointed! An elf! Admittedly, an elf who was much more practically dressed than some of the others she had seen here. In fact, her clothing was nearly as fine as Henrietta's, and made of woven shadow in a cut from the Mystic East. "Who is this Magda?" she asked.
"Oh, she's a little girl in my care. I'm so worried about her. To think that she's wandering alone with no one to watch over her, in this hall full of demons."
Henrietta paused. "I'll help you look for her," she said, grudgingly. She didn't like elves, but the thought of a little girl alone was just dreadful.
"Thank you so much! I'm so worried about her! The other children sat down nicely, but she slipped away! She's only six!"
"What does she look like?"
"She's little, blonde, and she has such an innocent sunny smile," the elf-girl said earnestly. "I can't bear to think of what will happen if she's left alone around all these mean scary-looking demons!"
"I see."
"We have to find her! And quickly! Before she does anything horrible to any of them!"
"Hey, Mag," Jacqueline said, standing on top of a ladder as she arranged ceremonial candles. She had been quite careful to make sure they were in festival reds and greens, and absolutely none of them were made from black candlewax. "I've been wondering."
"Go on."
"Why do we sometimes call it the Silver Pentecost and sometimes the Silver Pentacle?"
"Well…" Magdalene trailed off. She had wondered that for a while, and wasn't sure which of the competing theories was correct. However, admitting ignorance in front of Jacqueline van Rien would be utterly unacceptable. "Bad translation," she decided. "It's certainly sure that something involving the number five was involved, but the records from the early Church are corrupted."
"Ah. Ah. So it might be something else that begins with 'Pent'?" Jacqueline asked innocently.
"Potentially. But why do you ask?"
Jacqueline pulled a large pentagram out of the box she was unpacking. "I do so like this decoration," she said. "It gives a proper air to a ceremony, you know?"
"Yes, but sadly it's not acceptable to the Brimiric faith," Magdalene said wearily.
"But what if it's really the Silver Pentagram?"
"It's not." Magdalene's natural fear of being proven wrong – which was probably the product of being childhood friends with Eleanore de la Vallière – reasserted itself. "Well, almost certainly not."
In the end, things were done if not to her satisfaction, at least to her lack-of-willingness-to-criticise.
Magdalene spread her arms wide. "Ladies," she announced. "Let us prepare the dark rituals to cel—"
"Um, festive," pointed out Jacqueline. "Not dark!"
"Oh! Yes! Thank you very much! Force of habit, I'm afraid. Let me start again. Ladies! Let us prepare the festive rituals to celebrate the holiday and welcome the spirit of Brimir into our lives!"
She shuddered, but refrained from commenting about how nauseatingly clichéd the statement was. However, it appeared she wasn't the only one who felt that way. The cultists stood around, feeling vaguely let down.
"It just doesn't feel the same," one of them said sadly.
"Oh, I'd say! Normal religion is so boring! I don't suppose you could try at least laughing maniacally. Magdalene?"
"Yes! Yes! A good maniacal laugh always helps set the mood," Sara said cheerfully.
"Very well," Magdalene said, sighing. "But after that, we start with the carols!" She cleared her throat. "Ahem. Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
And there was much festive rejoicing.
Louise lifted her shaking hand from the crystal ball. "It's h-happening," she said weakly. She was sitting around in her undergarments, just waiting for Jessica to finish putting the final touches, and the sense of vulnerability from having fewer than four layers between her and the outside world seemed to be getting to her. "Lady Magdalene has sent word that the rites have begun." She swallowed. "There's no turning back n-now."
"Mmmmph," Jessica said, pins in her mouth. She spat them out. "There never was. Nearly done! Very nearly!"
"I'd sort of hoped…" Louise trailed off. "Why did I come up with the idea of b-basing everything around a speech? I hate public speaking!"
"Because you needed to embarrass Athe publically so he'd react stupidly?" Jessica reminded her.
"I know, but it's just—"
A knock came at the door to the changing room. It was Henrietta.
"Um," she began, closing the door behind her. She was blushing pink, and wringing her hands together.
"You should be in-place!" Jessica said, scandalised. "People need to be looking at you!"
Henrietta squirmed in place. "Jessica! I… I need to talk to you! It's not working! It's just… people keep on saying I weigh too much and I've got too much meat on my bones and…"
"That's not true!" Louise exploded.
"Shh!" Jessica commanded. "Don't smudge your make-up." She sighed. "Dammit. I should have thought of that, Henri. Were they necromancers?"
"Um… maybe? I mean, they were certainly dressed in skulls and…"
Jessica exhaled in relief. "Oh, ignore them," she said casually. "They're just being a bunch of litches."
"Litches?"
"I meant liches. Or maybe bitches." Jessica giggled. "Man, I've gotta remember that one. A litch is a lich bitch. Heh. But seriously, I should have thought to warn you 'bout them. A lot of necromancers are totally obsessed with their bodies. It's probably because a lot of the big thanocratic houses won't hire a necromancer if she looks too old. Or fat. Or won't bathe naked in cauldrons of blood and look wicked doing so. I mean, that sucks, but come on! They lose so much weight that they're basically just skin wrapped around bones – and then they tan their skin!"
"They did look like an old boot," Henrietta contributed.
"Exactly! They tan themselves so they turn orange and leathery, they're so thin the ribs poke out, and sister, don't get me started on how they cut themselves open. Did you notice how fake their tits are?"
"I beg your pardon?" Henrietta asked.
"Wait, you can get… a bosom that way?" Louise asked, suddenly interested.
"Don't even think of it," Jessica said firmly. "But yeah, Henri, think about it. Boobs are made of, like, fat and stuff." She gave a demonstrative jiggle. "That's why Louise who's all slender doesn't have the rack I do, but can fit into much smaller dress sizes."
"Thank you very much," Louise said bitterly.
"Lou, you don't know what you have. But when you're a stick-thin preserved corpse like them, you don't have body fat. So they do stuff with like… surgery and stuff. It's super obvious how fake it is. So, basically, in conclusion, don't listen to bitchy liches," Jessica advised. "They're just going to tell you that you need to lose weight and only eat souls and other stupid stuff like that. If they want to look like a walking skeleton, that's their business. And you don't need to care about what they do, 'cause trust me, I'd hit Lou over the head with a hammer if she started acting like the big thanocratic houses."
Henrietta breathed out in relief. "Thank you," she said. "I… I knew Prince Cearl wouldn't have cared that I'm not as slender as Louise."
"St-stop going on about that," Louise commanded, blushing.
"And I met the Dark Queen of the Dark Elves," Henrietta added, clearly more relaxed now that Jessica had eased her nerves. "We had to chase after her little demon-summoner before she managed to trap every demon in a magic stone she'd smuggled in here inside her teddy bear…"
"Wait, what?" Jessica asked, more than a little concerned at a personal level.
"… and, Louise-Françoise, I believe she may be of use to us as a potential ally."
Wringing her hands together, Louise chewed on her lip. "Later," she said. "I don't have the mind space to think about that now. Not on top of everything else." She took a deep breath. "'I'd like to thank the C-C-Ca…' sugar, sugar, sugar, I keep on stammering when I try to recite my speech. I have it memorised, but it's all going to go wrong and…"
"Wait a moment," Jessica said. "Lou, I've got something for you." She fished in a pocket, and revealed a small stoppered vial containing a clear liquid. "This'll make things go more easily for you."
Louise took it. "What is it?"
"It's a confidence potion. Drink it, and it'll take the edge of your nerves."
On the second hand, Louise managed to get the top out. She sniffed it. It didn't smell much of anything. "It's safe?"
"Oh yes. One hundred percent. It's made by demonic magic to give strength of will and confidence."
Louise downed it. It just tasted vaguely sweet. Nevertheless, she could feel a well of confidence within her. She could do this! She felt great! She could go out there and she'd show them all and no one would dare say anything! And she wouldn't stammer at all and she'd remember her lines perfectly.
"How do you feel?" Jessica checked.
"I am going to get out and slay them," Louise growled, marching out the door.
"Wait!" Jessica called after her. "You're not dressed yet!"
Eventually, Louise was finally prepared, and she stormed out, full of vim and vigour. Behind her in the dressing room, Henrietta stared at Jessica.
"What?"
Henrietta continued to stare.
"What!"
"Let me guess," Henrietta said, eyes narrowed. "It's just sugar water, and after this you're going to tell her that and she'll realise that the power and the self-confidence was in her all along?"
"Interesting idea," Jessica said.
"So I'm right?"
"What? Heaven, no," Jessica said, mightily offended. "I'm not going to risk things like this on her own self-belief. If she falls to pieces out there, everything'll go to crap. No, of course it's a real confidence potion. I mean, yeah, I'm going to tell her that the power was in her all along and it was just water, blah blah blah, but that's later."
Henrietta considered this. "Is that really moral?" she asked.
"Of course not, I'm a demon," Jessica said cockily. "Now, shoo. You need to get to your seat! Everyone needs to see you out there! I sweated and slaved over that ossific necromancer get-up. If people don't want to give you a bone after this, I failed in my work!"
The awards ceremony was in full flow. The low and wretched of demonic society were seated in the grand chamber of the Cabal. All attention was on the stage, where the host of the parasite-god Kapetaal was introducing the next award-giver.
"… unfortunately, the Dark Dragon Emperor Lee of Cathay could not attend, due to internal problems in his nation," said the host, demonic worms squirming under her skin. "I'd like to extend the Cabal's thanks to the Steel Maiden for being so willing and able to take his place at short notice. So here she is, to present this year's award for 'Best Newcomer'.
In the audience, Henrietta clasped her hands together, biting her lip. She mouthed a silent prayer of good luck for her friend.
A grand orchestra struck up, the overlady made her grand entrance. In the darkness outside the pool of light on the stage, she had been invisible – and the reason for this became clear. Shunning her usual full armour, she instead wore a long hooded cloak of liquid night that pooled around her and clung to her. Under that, she wore a slightly archaic long dress in deep crimson, cut conservatively – though with a low enough neckline to display flawless pale skin. Skilled tailoring managed to accentuate her narrow waist, while carefully placed armoured elements told white lies about curves. Of course, she wore her characteristic helmet, and her left hand was clenched in the dark power of her cursed gauntlet. Her ears were pierced, and the enchanted earrings allowed Jessica to whisper to her from afar.
Henrietta sighed happily. Louise-Francoise looked wonderful, she really did. Jessica had done her best. The two of them hadn't been able to get the overlady into something a little more risqué, but that didn't seem to matter.
"I'd like to thank the Cabal for the honour," Louise began, clear voice ringing out like a bell. The amplifying magics made her voice audible throughout the whole hall, even to the dragons who had been seated so they weren't blocking anyone's view. "Although I didn't win the Best Newcomer award last year, I'd like to think that this is at least some acknowledgement for my successful kidnapping of Princess Henrietta of Tristain, along with my daring heist from the royal vaults."
"Such a wonderful friend," aforementioned princess whispered.
"I look before me and I see the wickedest powers in all the world," Louise exclaimed, looking over the crowd. "I see cruel, vindictive monsters! I see utterly irredeemable abominations who would rather kick a kitten than pet it. I see the absolute worst that the Abyss has to offer!"
The forces of Evil collectively preened at the compliments. Such descriptions fed the ego most malevolently.
"But of course, one thing we must all be wary of is the benevolent influences of the Forces of Good. They work ceaselessly to thwart us. They plot and plan in light places. They send their agents in to sabotage our plans and conspire to see us killed!" Louise's voice dropped to a whisper. "Indeed, there could be some in this very room. Who knows how many demons have been redeemed by Heavenly bribes and so spy for the angels? Who knows how many alleged villains in truth are Heroes, right here and now, in disguise?" She paused meaningfully. "Who knows how many dark angels secretly still serve Heaven, reporting back to their masters?
"Take what is currently going on this moment in Amstelredamme," the overlady stated. Behind her, arcane machinery whirred to life, displaying a live feed from the Great Hall of the university. There were gasps from the audience, and demonic parents tried to cover their children's eyes to stop them seeing what was being shown.
There were orphans singing cheery winter songs. There were red and green decorations up which were neither putrid nor bloody. There was a roaring hearty fire and there were white-painted wood shavings that resembled snow but which were much less unpleasantly cold.
"A light cult is conducting sacred rituals in the Great Hall of the University, rendering the entire facility a holy place," Louise continued, raising her voice over the hubbub. "From this, we can only conclude that the dark angel Baelogi has been a servant of Heaven all along! She has wormed her way into our confidence to control Amstelredamme, a place that has always served the ways of Evil! Who can trust a dark angel who permits such righteous deeds to be conducted in a place she controls?"
From the audience, Henrietta watched with glee as Athe transformed into a black cloud and stormed out. "Go on!" she whispered.
"I fear that if one such dark angel has turned out to be serving Heaven all along, there may be others. This is something we must be wary of! Who can we Evil beings trust when a fallen angel may rise? How can we rely on those who have previously been good? It is a time to strengthen the purity of the Abyss, drawing deep upon wickedness and directing it at our greatest foes – those insufficiently dedicated to the cause of Evil! I vow in the next year I will hunt down those who merely pretend to be Evil, and I ask that all of you join me in this!"
Louise paused for breath, folding her hands in front of her. The Cabal were muttering among themselves, but at least they didn't look angry with her.
"But alas, I must thank the Cabal for their kindness in not cutting me off when I look like I might be going over time," she said, after prompting from Jessica. "Now, moving on. The nominations for Best Newcomer this year are strong, and it's going to be a very competitive year, although," Louise said, to nervous laughter, "I personally don't think it's quite as strong as last year. First up is Tiffania, Dark Queen of the Dark Elves…"
It was done. She had presented the award to the winner – the dark elven girl – and her part in the plan was done. Nerves on fire with elation, Louise managed to make it off stage without collapsing and then slumped against the wall, a mad grin on her face. She'd done it! It was over! Athe had stormed off and now she just had to move to take down the Madame de Montespan – and that was if Athe didn't destroy her! Which, yes, would mean she didn't get her revenge personally, but 'destroyed by a dark god she had been foolish enough to consort with' was suitably righteous that Louise wasn't about to complain.
She took the chance to laugh properly.
"Oi! 'Scuse me, lady, but we're trying to move stuff 'bout back here," a bulky demon pushing a cart full of clay jars said. "Could you go cackle somewhere else, love?"
Louise briefly considered incinerating him, but decided against ruining her good mood. "Impertinent lackey!" she snapped, and waltzed off. It had worked! She felt like dancing, but that would come later. But at least she wouldn't have to give any speeches!
"Jessica, I did it!" she crowed happily as she burst through the door to her changing room. "I did it! I barely stammered at all! That confidence potion worked and—"
"We have a problem," Jessica said flatly, from where she'd been watching it on the crystal. She had a goatee, and her dark eyes smouldered in a way that left Louise's heart fluttering.
The bottom fell out of her stomach. "What do you mean we have a problem? Why do we have a problem? What kind of problem do we have?" Louise blurted out, her voice rising in a crescendo into a shriek.
"So, uh…"
"Why are we having problems? We shouldn't be having problems!"
Jessica slapped her.
"Ow."
"Shut up and stop repeating the word 'problem', and I'll tell you," Jessica said, rubbing her hand. "Dark gods, why did I slap your helmet? Never mind that! Look!" She gestured at a complicated array of small stone statues that looked vaguely like a chessboard.
One of the pieces had fallen over. It looked half-melted, like a boiled sweet someone had sucked on.
"What's that?" Louise asked, stomach churning.
"Dark god and demon lord tracking shrine," Jessica explained handsomely. "When a dark god is defeated their icons and temples collapse and stuff, yeah? Well, each of the little statues is a tiny blasphemous icon. And Athe's one just melted."
"What… what does that mean?" Louise said, mouth dry.
"It means Athe has been defeated," Jessica said. "And… and it's reforming. Into a female shape."
"But…" Louise blinked. "He's a dark god."
"So? Dark gods get killed all the time."
"By my mother, yes," Louise said grimly.
"… well, there are some other people who can do it, but yes," Jessica said. She ran her hands through her hair, rubbing her horns. "They get killed, or get their power usurped. And… a powerful dark angel isn't much different from a dark god. So. Um. I think she got him."
"So… Baelogi defeated Athe," Louise said, pacing up and down. She rubbed her hands together, feeling cold due to more than the frozen hellish weather. "I need to get to Amstelredamme right now," she said, stomach churning.
"Right now? But if…"
"Look, remember who my mother is! I know about killing dark gods! That was a bedtime story for me when I was little!" Louise snapped. She took a deep breath. "It's important to murder a new dark god when they're only just forming! Because they're still… still digesting the power they've taken in! She'll never be this vulnerable again!"
"Let me just…"
"There isn't time! This is my fault! I need to make things right!"
"But you're not even in your armour and…"
"I don't care!" Louise's knuckles whitened around the black metal of her staff. "Jessica? Why are you still here?"
"Because…"
"Get me to the surface!"
"But…"
"Now!"
Jessica scurried out. Louise made sure the door was shut, and then collapsed down onto the floor, yanked off her Gauntlet, and screamed into her balled up fist until she felt better. The combination of fear and rage filling her veins was peculiarly exhilarating. And terrifying, of course. She was just about to do something very, very stupid. Generations of de la Vallière blood within her veins rebelled, screaming that she was being idiotically heroic and what she should be doing was tricking some saps into disposing of the newborn dark god for her so she could steal its power for herself. Indeed, the bit of her mind that had devised this plan in the first place was already thinking of ways to steal the power for herself.
Louise shook her head to dispel such thoughts, ignoring the faint worry at how good she was getting at... well, being bad. Her blood could just shut the heck up. She was only half de la Vallière. The other half of her came from her mother. And that left her with no choice about what to do next. She had to stop Baelogi. This was her fault. She had planned to have the dark angel fight Athe. And her plan had succeeded. Beyond her wildest dreams – or nightmares.
"Darn it all," Louise muttered into her balled up fist. "Stupid plans, succeeding too well."
– Louis de la Vallière, the Bloody Duke
…
'Twas the night before Silver Pentecost, and all through the university, many a thing stirred, especially a cultist sorority.
"This weighs an awful lot, Mag," Jacqueline complained, as she and several other cultists tried to manhandle a potted oak tree into the Grand Hall. "Isn't this something that the help should be doing?"
Magdalene sighed. "Jacqueline, why are you not using magic?" she asked acidly, as with a swish and a flick of her wand several large boxes full of decorations floated by.
"… um."
"You forgot that you're a ma… no. Never mind." Magdalene smiled, an effect rather ruined by her natural tendency to stand in shadow with only her glasses catching the light. "Remember, everyone! Strive to be full of Pentacle joy and happiness! It will certainly annoy the Madame de Montespan, and when it comes down to it, isn't that plenty of reason to do anything?"
Between the two of them, Louise and Magdalene had calculated that very few break-ins in the past had involved sneaking in to a location to hold socially acceptable religious events. The guards were all taking a nap after festively-dressed cultists had charitably provided them with spiked spiced rum and mince pies full of sedatives, and so they were taking naps next to the nice warm fire in the guardroom. This meant that the cultists had plenty of time to sneak in the decorations, along with the orphans they had bribed a nearby orphanage to lend them.
"Sara!" Magdalene demanded. "How are the choirs coming along?"
"Just wonderful, darling! The orphans came pre-trained! I've got them carrying wreaths and garlands at the moment."
Magdalene sniffed, somewhat irked that the world had denied her a chance to criticise it.
And so with great joy, only some of it pretended, they got on with decorating the inside of the university Great Hall. Most years this would have been done already, and many of the women fondly remembered their student days here and the way that free spiced wine was traditionally provided here to the worthy. But this year everything was cold and dark, and the religious iconography had been stripped from the walls. The Madame de Montespan had claimed that this was because the new theology department she had so graciously funded was a better place for these things, but the cultists were – mostly – not fools and could recognise this for what it was.
A mark of the influence of Athe, enforced on the world.
…
Backstage at the Cabal Awards, everything was all aflutter. While the public facing elements of the show may have been suave and stylish, here in the bowels of the building things were filled with screaming, wailing and fear.
More than usual for the Abyss, that was.
"Lightning check! Where is the lightning check team! Someone get an occultist back there pronto!"
"Tser'ah is being a total deva! She's saying that her dressing room is too small! Do we have somewhere else to put her?"
"Oh shit, shit, shit, the Troll King is stoned! He can't give a speech like this!"
Compared to the squirming inchoate chaos, things were relatively calm in Louise's changing room. Jessica was here with her, helping her put the final preparations on her outfit. But this was purely a relative thing. Quite apart from the fact that Louise's nerves were as taut as a garrotte, Jessica was having to make on-the-fly adaptions to her design and was swearing like a sailor as she did so.
"That utter bitch, Izah'belya!" she grumbled, sewing machine screaming like a dying saint. She was very stressed and so was looking rather fetchingly handsome. "How dare she go and show off someone in cloth of darkness! Did she know I was buying it up? I bet she did! Her and her stupid fucking Dark Elves!"
Louise huddled in an oversized chair in the corner of the room, wearing a dressing gown and with her make-up only partially done. Jessica had made her wear her gauntlets to stop her from biting her nails. She clattered faintly, as she trembled from stress. "It's all going wrong," she muttered. "It's all gone wrong. The dr-dress has gone wrong and I'm s-so nervous that I c-can't speak without stuttering and… and…"
"Chin up," Jessica said through clenched teeth. "It'll be all right on the night."
"This is the night!"
"Well, it'll be already in… like, an hour or so. Just think about it. Once this is done, it's done and you won't have to do anything like this for a whole – godfucking shitbuggering goat-arse – year! At least!"
"What, are you crazy?" Louise snapped, rather wishing that she wasn't a well-bred lady and could swear like Jessica could. It sounded relaxing. "I'm n-n-never doing this again!"
"Well, next time I'll have the dress ready on time and won't have to re-make it because Izah'belya totally copied me!"
"Next time?" Louise wailed in desperation.
"Look, just… just think about how Henrietta is going to be making her grand entrance and pray to all the forces of the Abyss that she doesn't fuck everything up!"
This only produced a further noise of distress from the overlady, and she slumped over to hug her legs and press her face into her knees.
Jessica was starting to get the feeling that she perhaps was not the most reassuring person at the moment. It was probably because she could feel her tailbone growing notably, and had a headache from how her horns were starting to force their way through her skin.
…
Outside, the forces of Evil were making their appearances on the blood-soaked carpet. Naturally, a looming shirtless red-skinned demon and a succubus were providing commentary to the audience watching from home.
"And there goes Shafela the Marked. She's been very quiet this past year, but the rumours say that she has a lot of power in the current Albionese government," the succubus said.
"I have to say, Maelar'gnee, burning purple forehead runes are so last year," the male demon observed. "And so much black?"
"I know, right? Black is always the new black, but, darling, someone has to tell her that she's far too plain about it. She never does anything interesting with it. What do you think, I'ohn?"
"She's barely a five in my books," he added. "She should consider a mysterious mask, because that scowl is not hot."
Considering the fact that the voices were being broadcast, the reason for the scowl may have been self-evident. But the attention was already moving to the newest carriage moving along in the row.
"And who's this?" asked the succubus. "Why, it's Carmine, Countess of Blood." Cattleya swept out of the carriage, in a low-cut dress. Jessica had judged that she could get away with a smaller mask if no one was looking at her face, and in fairness, she had probably been right. "And of course, Gnarl the Gnarled."
Gnarl shot a malicious grin up at the commentators, and tipped his top hat at her. The wizened old minion was wearing a spotless tuxedo, complete with a gold-rimmed monocle. The succubus blushed at that.
"Ah, that malevolent old goblin never fails to disappoint," the demon said.
"He cuts quite a dashing figure for a minion," Maelar'gnee added.
Io'hn looked at her strangely. "Do you really mean that?" he asked, pulling a face.
"Hey, don't judge me!"
"Yes, but he's an ugly old goblin in a top hat," he said.
"Knowledge is power, and power is attractive, so someone as wise as him is a total hottie," she argued. "The maths is inarguable!"
Io'hn opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. "And look who it is getting out now," he said quickly, to change the topic away from his co-host's perversions. "Why, it's the Voice of the Steel Maiden! And wow, has she gone to the deathly side!"
Henrietta stepped out of the coach. 'Skulls' were the dominant theme of her attire, blended into the general armoured aesthetic that was characteristic of Louise's forces. Her helmet was a skull, her hair flowing out of the back. She wore a tight-fitting cuirass that bore two more prominent skulls, or four if you counted the pauldrons. Louise's protests had been overruled in the name of fashion and/or rebellion against one's parents, and thus the plate was both midriff bearing and backless in a way that would have had Emperor Lee frowning at the suboptimal protection. Layers upon layers of sheer crimson fabric covered her legs in a way that Jessica hoped would lead the fashion journals to use the phrase 'waterfall of blood'. A skull-headed staff topped off the ensemble.
"Well, the rumours were that she had embraced the path of the necromancer, and she's certainly open about it," Maelar'gne observed.
"Necromancer? 'Ell, I'd necromance 'er, if you know what I mean."
"You mean slowly and painfully kill her over a period of days, preserving her corpse through vile enchantments and trapping her soul in a cold dead corpse where she will be doomed to be a slave to all your whims?"
The man smiled widely. "Exactly."
…
The forces of Evil thronged in a high-ceilinged cavern-anteroom before the awards began. There were canapés, and some of them were even things that a human might want to eat. Red lighting dominated, and erratic illumination cast long shadows over the faces of the participants. Here and there, burning skulls floated through the air, casting light down on particularly famous or important demons. And of course, the journaleers were everywhere. Everyone who was anyone in the legions of wickedness wanted to be seen here.
Cattleya had her orders as she made her way into the reception. They were very specific orders. Her little sister was in a bossy mood, and she hadn't been tolerating any dissent. Why, Cattleya hadn't even been able to tell her that she had absolutely no objections to doing what she had been told.
She had her target; Athe.
Of course, first came the mingling while she tried to track him down. It wasn't like she should look desperate, after all. So like a ship broaching the ocean waves, she bustled forwards drawing no small amount of attention from the serried ranks of wickedness and darkness. They were very much focussed on her bustle.
And much as Cattleya would like to sink her fangs into some of the demonesses who were admiring her, she couldn't let herself get too distracted. She also couldn't ruin her dress by getting blood on it, or both her sister and Jessica would be really unconscionably mean about it.
In the end, she located Athe, talking to a bulky demon barely crammed into a sharp grey suit, who wore a bound bundle of wooden rods on his back. An axehead protruded from the peculiar contraption.
Athe favoured Cattleya with a benevolent smile. "Ah, Carmine," he said happily. "So wicked to be seeing you again. I found your notes on the comparative anatomy of Cathayan snow-tigers to be very good quality indeed."
Cattleya forced blood into her cheeks, so she could blush. "You're too kind, your Darkness," she said.
"Nonsense! Your soul might be worthless, but your mind is keen and your obsession with animals is much akin to my own. Through comparison of men with beasts and pointing out their many similarities, faith in the Good nature of man can easily be dismissed!" he said. "Carmine, this is an old acquaintance of mine, Faskes."
"Don't let me get in your way," the dark deity rumbled. "Later, Athe."
"Nasty chap," Athe said. "I think that's why I like him. He's all gut feelings and brute force, and that means he's very skilled with the masses. I think I can use him. So, you were over in Cathay?"
"Oh yes," Cattleya said. "Thwarting the forces of Good, you know how it is. Well, that was what the Overlady was doing. I was there to keep her safe, and of course go after the local wildlife! I found hundreds of new beetle species I've never seen before!"
"Ah, beetles. I am quite inordinately fond of them," Athe agreed, a red twinkle in his eyes. "Sometimes I have thought that it might be better to wipe out mankind and replace them with cockroaches and other insects who would not believe in gods. That would be a world that would please me. Worship is just so offensive, and not in a bad way. My sister, Antithe, is even more violently opposed to it."
One of the reason that Cattleya was the one doing this was that most of her bodily reactions were habit, rather than necessary. As a result, she did not gulp when she heard such a diabolical plan. "How fascinating, your Darkness," she said sunnily. Not literally sunnily, of course, because the sun made her burn up and ignite. She scowled. "Though… may I say something? Something more… important?"
He smiled at her. "Of course, Carmine. I am fond of you."
"Well… have you noticed anything strange going on in Amstelredamme?" she asked. "It's just that the overlady is finding that suddenly her dark power is finding that there are holy places within the city – within the university – that repel her. She's been trying to scry them, but they're interfering with her efforts."
Athe frowned. "Holy places?" he asked, lines furrowed in his forehead. He tugged one of the patches sewn onto the elbows of his jacket. "No, that's not right. There shouldn't be holy places there." His frown deepened. "But I can feel it there, yes," he said, after some thought. "There are holy places scattered through the entire building."
"Gosh!" Cattleya said, knowing full well that Louise and Magdalene had put quite a lot of effort to ensure that there were secret shrines smuggled into hidden places. "I bow to your dark power. My overlady merely found that she could not scry certain places. But who could be doing that?"
"Well… there might be Eleanore de la Vallière to blame," Athe said, glowering. "She usually is. She has thwarted my efforts in that city for far too long."
Cattleya frowned, and that wasn't faked or hidden. She had more than a little bit of a grudge against her big sister, for the whole 'it was her fault she'd been murdered and turned into an undead monstrosity'. That was the sort of thing that built up a grudge. Eleanore had kept well away from her since then. As far as she was concerned, Eleanore deserved to have mildly unpleasant things happen to her in jail for a few years – and more cruelly, be denied access to all her books. "No, no," Cattleya said. "She is imprisoned, isn't she?"
"That is true," Athe said, scowling. "And I've made sure that she's watched. But she's stayed there. So someone else is hiding things from me in the city. And making sure I can go nowhere near them."
"Surely as a dark god, you can go where you want?" she asked ingenuously, twirling a finger in her dress.
"Ah, I would wish that, but my power – and my nature – imposes certain limits on me," Athe said absent-mindedly. "One that my enemies might know. Yes, something that might be used against me by enemies – or traitors…"
"Traitors? But surely no one could betray you!" Cattleya said. "I can't think of anyone who would try to steal your power." She paused. "They'd have to be in Amstelredamme and I can't think of any of your servants who might do that!" She might have been layering it on a little thick, but she was very aware that she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve. Though not literally! That would be messy! And as a vampire, removing her heart killed her. Just like a human! Though she could get better from it, unlike most humans!
"Who indeed…" Athe said slowly. He smiled at Cattleya, but he was distracted. "We should talk later. I would like to speak to your overlady after things are over."
"Well, she's giving a speech today, so you don't want to miss it!" Cattleya said happily. "She's been practicing really hard after the Dragon Emperor couldn't make it and she got called on to replace him at short notice! Poor her! It's been really hard getting everything arranged!"
…
"Urgh, look at her."
"So pink! Look at how her skin looks. I'd be ashamed to show my face like that, like, ever. Not that she's showing her face. I bet she's, like, so ugly under that helmet."
"Her nose is probably, like, right in your face. I'm so glad I got rid of mine!"
Henrietta started to hear the whispers as she mingled. It meant that her smile in some of the journaleers' sketches was more than a little rigid.
"Well, of course I plan to raise the dead. I want revenge," she said, in response to a question. "The forces of the Council have wronged me terribly."
"I know, right? What is she thinking, going out like that?" the whispers in the background went. "How much do you think she weighs?"
"And the Steel Maiden killed one of them, so of course I swore allegiance to her," Henrietta added, trying to drown out the voices.
"I bet her thighs are totally touching and you can't even count her ribs. Like, ohmydarkgod, she could totally lose a good thirty kilos of meat."
"There's no need to shout," the journaleer said.
"I'm sorry, I get quite passionate about revenge," Henrietta said brusquely. Who were those whispering voices? She tried to look for them, but when surrounded by so many demons and other monsters it was hard to make out who might be whispering.
"Ah, a bad thing, a bad thing, but there is such thing as manners," the journaleer said, adjusting his cravat. "Well, if you'll excuse me…"
She was left alone for a moment. Taking a breath, she slunk off to the side of the reception. She wondered how Louise was doing, and hoped her friend wasn't panicking too much. She could see Cattleya talking avidly with the dark god Athe, while down the other end of the hall the dragons loomed over everyone else. Henrietta had firmly decided to keep well away from them. They might be able to smell out a princess. Admittedly, apparently all the daughters of the Succubus Queen were also princesses, so they might have a problem picking her out of the general princess-ness, but that wasn't a risk she was prepared to take.
Two women made their way over to her. Henrietta didn't think they were demons. They resembled bags of skin like tanned leather, filled with bones. Straw-like bleached blonde hair cascaded down from heads that were in truth really just skulls. One of them was missing her nose entirely. Their milky eyes were judging her, and Henrietta felt a surge of instinctual shame. They were wearing skimpy, skull-festooned dresses that showed off their painfully thin bodies, and their perfume couldn't drown out the scent of embalming fluid. And Henrietta was sure there was something incredibly wrong with their breasts, because she had two herself and was aware of the shape they should be. She would have thought that they were hiding overstuffed bags of flour under their dresses, were it not for the fact that she could see enough that the strangers were simply deformed.
"May I help you?" she asked.
"So, like, hello," the first of them said, flicking her unnatural hair. She spoke in a breathy whisper like the noise of an unsealed tomb. Henrietta was almost sure she was one of the two whisperers. "I'm The Winter Rose That Blossoms In The Depths Of Dead Gardens and she's The Rotting Blackened Flesh Unearthed From Unhallowed Graves."
"But you can totally call me Flesh and her, like, Winter," the other said. "We totally didn't know you were a necromancer!"
"Yes, uh, well, I only started learning in the last year," Henrietta said politely. The hair on her neck was standing on end.
"A word of advice for you, sweetie," said Winter. "You really need to think more about your appearance. You're letting down the necromancers by walking around looking like that."
Henrietta looked down at herself, confused. She thought the dress was quite… well, not nice, but it made her look attractive. "Excuse me?"
"Look at all that muscle! And, like, there is way too much water in you. You look like a blimp, darling."
"I'm on a super-great diet where I don't drink any water or eat any food and feed only off souls and it is doing wonders for my complexion," Flesh contributed. "You are so going to get old and die like that. You need to look into getting a phylactery. It is, like, the must-have accessory for a necromancer. You'll never get really powerful if you don't have one. It's the done thing. People'll never respect you if you don't keep up with the look of the modern tomb."
Henrietta swallowed, looking between them. "You mean it?" she asked nervously.
"Oh, yah, yah. It's the done thing. And, darling, it'll help you shed all those extra kilos of fat," Winter said. "You won't have to cover your face, either! I know an excellent surgeon that'll help you fix it up! But you're going to have to work at it."
"That muscle is so barbarian princess," Flesh agreed. "You'll never find a consort if you look like that. The journals will really mock you if they see you with a trace of cellulite, so just get rid of those bothersome body processes. Men think it's ugly and the thanocratic houses won't hire you. They'll just pretend otherwise if they think you're powerful, but honey, they really want to be able to fit their hands around your waist."
"You're wrong!" Henrietta snapped, unable to stop herself. How dare they! How dare they! Her prince had loved her and he hadn't been lying and he hadn't thought that she was ugly! "Men don't… they don't…"
Winter sniggered. "So naïve, darling. But run off crying. You'll learn. Men'll leave you, or go die on you. They always do. There's no life for a woman necromancer if she looks like she's getting old. All the positions dry up if they think you won't look good sprawled on the side of their throne."
"I think I've heard enough! Farewell!" Henrietta stormed off, the words nagging at the back of her head. Her life was so hollow and empty without her prince, deprived of that central sunlight. She felt like a moon, a thing that spent half its time in darkness and never truly showed its face. He had died on her. That was true. And… and she was going to succeed! She was going to master life and death and find her prince in the grey realms of the Dead and drag him back to life! He would love her again!
But it had been years since he had seen her. She'd put on muscle when she was a captive at the palace. Would he still find her pretty?
No. Of course he would. Of course he would. But the doubt still nagged at her.
It was only when she nearly walked into someone waist-high that she realised she had stumbled across the junior part of the Cabal Awards. Over there, a collection of teenage succubae gossiped and shot side glances at pimply incubi, who were staring back with vacant eyes. The sheer quantity of pubescent lust there was making Henrietta's eyes mist over with the thought of Prince Cearl, so she kept well away. A young girl apparently entirely made of blood-soaked ribbons ran past her, giggling.
"Now, come on children!" called out a weary-sounding demon. Her long-fingered hands caressed the air to the sound of music, but her hair moved like limbs, ensnaring a number of younger demons. "And Ec-… oh, Unspeakable Blue, where's she got to now?"
"Grandmother! Oh, oh! She's run off again!" a grey-haired little girl with burning green eyes said with glee. "And Cally's pulling my hair!"
"Am not! That's Ratty! He's just making it look like it's me!" protested a taller girl, dressed all in black save for her red veil that was slowly oozing blood.
"Granny, they're bullying me!" a handsome little boy said, flashing literally pearly teeth. "They're just trying to blame me because they were meant to be watching V and Zana, and they got loose!"
"You were meant to be watching them too, idiot!" the grey-haired girl exploded.
"I swear, this is the last time I'll take you anywhere if you don't all start behaving!" their grandmother snapped. "Would you be doing this if your mother was here?"
This only produced a chorus of whining as she dragged them off.
"Honestly," said a purple-skinned bald demoness said to Henrietta, shaking her head sadly. "I don't even know why they let children come to these things. They have no idea how to behave properly. Their mother must spoil them rotten."
She agreed. No sooner had Henrietta escaped one horde of demonic brats than she walked into a blond girl who looked to be around the same age as her.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she apologised to Henrietta with a pronounced Albionese accent. "I'm just trying to find where Magda has gotten to. I should have been looking where I was going!"
"Oh, no, no, it was all my fault," Henrietta lied. She took in the other woman and her eyes narrowed. Perhaps she was underestimating her age, because while she might have had a youthful face her bust could only have been described as 'maternal'. And her ears were pointed! An elf! Admittedly, an elf who was much more practically dressed than some of the others she had seen here. In fact, her clothing was nearly as fine as Henrietta's, and made of woven shadow in a cut from the Mystic East. "Who is this Magda?" she asked.
"Oh, she's a little girl in my care. I'm so worried about her. To think that she's wandering alone with no one to watch over her, in this hall full of demons."
Henrietta paused. "I'll help you look for her," she said, grudgingly. She didn't like elves, but the thought of a little girl alone was just dreadful.
"Thank you so much! I'm so worried about her! The other children sat down nicely, but she slipped away! She's only six!"
"What does she look like?"
"She's little, blonde, and she has such an innocent sunny smile," the elf-girl said earnestly. "I can't bear to think of what will happen if she's left alone around all these mean scary-looking demons!"
"I see."
"We have to find her! And quickly! Before she does anything horrible to any of them!"
…
"Hey, Mag," Jacqueline said, standing on top of a ladder as she arranged ceremonial candles. She had been quite careful to make sure they were in festival reds and greens, and absolutely none of them were made from black candlewax. "I've been wondering."
"Go on."
"Why do we sometimes call it the Silver Pentecost and sometimes the Silver Pentacle?"
"Well…" Magdalene trailed off. She had wondered that for a while, and wasn't sure which of the competing theories was correct. However, admitting ignorance in front of Jacqueline van Rien would be utterly unacceptable. "Bad translation," she decided. "It's certainly sure that something involving the number five was involved, but the records from the early Church are corrupted."
"Ah. Ah. So it might be something else that begins with 'Pent'?" Jacqueline asked innocently.
"Potentially. But why do you ask?"
Jacqueline pulled a large pentagram out of the box she was unpacking. "I do so like this decoration," she said. "It gives a proper air to a ceremony, you know?"
"Yes, but sadly it's not acceptable to the Brimiric faith," Magdalene said wearily.
"But what if it's really the Silver Pentagram?"
"It's not." Magdalene's natural fear of being proven wrong – which was probably the product of being childhood friends with Eleanore de la Vallière – reasserted itself. "Well, almost certainly not."
In the end, things were done if not to her satisfaction, at least to her lack-of-willingness-to-criticise.
Magdalene spread her arms wide. "Ladies," she announced. "Let us prepare the dark rituals to cel—"
"Um, festive," pointed out Jacqueline. "Not dark!"
"Oh! Yes! Thank you very much! Force of habit, I'm afraid. Let me start again. Ladies! Let us prepare the festive rituals to celebrate the holiday and welcome the spirit of Brimir into our lives!"
She shuddered, but refrained from commenting about how nauseatingly clichéd the statement was. However, it appeared she wasn't the only one who felt that way. The cultists stood around, feeling vaguely let down.
"It just doesn't feel the same," one of them said sadly.
"Oh, I'd say! Normal religion is so boring! I don't suppose you could try at least laughing maniacally. Magdalene?"
"Yes! Yes! A good maniacal laugh always helps set the mood," Sara said cheerfully.
"Very well," Magdalene said, sighing. "But after that, we start with the carols!" She cleared her throat. "Ahem. Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
And there was much festive rejoicing.
…
Louise lifted her shaking hand from the crystal ball. "It's h-happening," she said weakly. She was sitting around in her undergarments, just waiting for Jessica to finish putting the final touches, and the sense of vulnerability from having fewer than four layers between her and the outside world seemed to be getting to her. "Lady Magdalene has sent word that the rites have begun." She swallowed. "There's no turning back n-now."
"Mmmmph," Jessica said, pins in her mouth. She spat them out. "There never was. Nearly done! Very nearly!"
"I'd sort of hoped…" Louise trailed off. "Why did I come up with the idea of b-basing everything around a speech? I hate public speaking!"
"Because you needed to embarrass Athe publically so he'd react stupidly?" Jessica reminded her.
"I know, but it's just—"
A knock came at the door to the changing room. It was Henrietta.
"Um," she began, closing the door behind her. She was blushing pink, and wringing her hands together.
"You should be in-place!" Jessica said, scandalised. "People need to be looking at you!"
Henrietta squirmed in place. "Jessica! I… I need to talk to you! It's not working! It's just… people keep on saying I weigh too much and I've got too much meat on my bones and…"
"That's not true!" Louise exploded.
"Shh!" Jessica commanded. "Don't smudge your make-up." She sighed. "Dammit. I should have thought of that, Henri. Were they necromancers?"
"Um… maybe? I mean, they were certainly dressed in skulls and…"
Jessica exhaled in relief. "Oh, ignore them," she said casually. "They're just being a bunch of litches."
"Litches?"
"I meant liches. Or maybe bitches." Jessica giggled. "Man, I've gotta remember that one. A litch is a lich bitch. Heh. But seriously, I should have thought to warn you 'bout them. A lot of necromancers are totally obsessed with their bodies. It's probably because a lot of the big thanocratic houses won't hire a necromancer if she looks too old. Or fat. Or won't bathe naked in cauldrons of blood and look wicked doing so. I mean, that sucks, but come on! They lose so much weight that they're basically just skin wrapped around bones – and then they tan their skin!"
"They did look like an old boot," Henrietta contributed.
"Exactly! They tan themselves so they turn orange and leathery, they're so thin the ribs poke out, and sister, don't get me started on how they cut themselves open. Did you notice how fake their tits are?"
"I beg your pardon?" Henrietta asked.
"Wait, you can get… a bosom that way?" Louise asked, suddenly interested.
"Don't even think of it," Jessica said firmly. "But yeah, Henri, think about it. Boobs are made of, like, fat and stuff." She gave a demonstrative jiggle. "That's why Louise who's all slender doesn't have the rack I do, but can fit into much smaller dress sizes."
"Thank you very much," Louise said bitterly.
"Lou, you don't know what you have. But when you're a stick-thin preserved corpse like them, you don't have body fat. So they do stuff with like… surgery and stuff. It's super obvious how fake it is. So, basically, in conclusion, don't listen to bitchy liches," Jessica advised. "They're just going to tell you that you need to lose weight and only eat souls and other stupid stuff like that. If they want to look like a walking skeleton, that's their business. And you don't need to care about what they do, 'cause trust me, I'd hit Lou over the head with a hammer if she started acting like the big thanocratic houses."
Henrietta breathed out in relief. "Thank you," she said. "I… I knew Prince Cearl wouldn't have cared that I'm not as slender as Louise."
"St-stop going on about that," Louise commanded, blushing.
"And I met the Dark Queen of the Dark Elves," Henrietta added, clearly more relaxed now that Jessica had eased her nerves. "We had to chase after her little demon-summoner before she managed to trap every demon in a magic stone she'd smuggled in here inside her teddy bear…"
"Wait, what?" Jessica asked, more than a little concerned at a personal level.
"… and, Louise-Françoise, I believe she may be of use to us as a potential ally."
Wringing her hands together, Louise chewed on her lip. "Later," she said. "I don't have the mind space to think about that now. Not on top of everything else." She took a deep breath. "'I'd like to thank the C-C-Ca…' sugar, sugar, sugar, I keep on stammering when I try to recite my speech. I have it memorised, but it's all going to go wrong and…"
"Wait a moment," Jessica said. "Lou, I've got something for you." She fished in a pocket, and revealed a small stoppered vial containing a clear liquid. "This'll make things go more easily for you."
Louise took it. "What is it?"
"It's a confidence potion. Drink it, and it'll take the edge of your nerves."
On the second hand, Louise managed to get the top out. She sniffed it. It didn't smell much of anything. "It's safe?"
"Oh yes. One hundred percent. It's made by demonic magic to give strength of will and confidence."
Louise downed it. It just tasted vaguely sweet. Nevertheless, she could feel a well of confidence within her. She could do this! She felt great! She could go out there and she'd show them all and no one would dare say anything! And she wouldn't stammer at all and she'd remember her lines perfectly.
"How do you feel?" Jessica checked.
"I am going to get out and slay them," Louise growled, marching out the door.
"Wait!" Jessica called after her. "You're not dressed yet!"
…
Eventually, Louise was finally prepared, and she stormed out, full of vim and vigour. Behind her in the dressing room, Henrietta stared at Jessica.
"What?"
Henrietta continued to stare.
"What!"
"Let me guess," Henrietta said, eyes narrowed. "It's just sugar water, and after this you're going to tell her that and she'll realise that the power and the self-confidence was in her all along?"
"Interesting idea," Jessica said.
"So I'm right?"
"What? Heaven, no," Jessica said, mightily offended. "I'm not going to risk things like this on her own self-belief. If she falls to pieces out there, everything'll go to crap. No, of course it's a real confidence potion. I mean, yeah, I'm going to tell her that the power was in her all along and it was just water, blah blah blah, but that's later."
Henrietta considered this. "Is that really moral?" she asked.
"Of course not, I'm a demon," Jessica said cockily. "Now, shoo. You need to get to your seat! Everyone needs to see you out there! I sweated and slaved over that ossific necromancer get-up. If people don't want to give you a bone after this, I failed in my work!"
…
The awards ceremony was in full flow. The low and wretched of demonic society were seated in the grand chamber of the Cabal. All attention was on the stage, where the host of the parasite-god Kapetaal was introducing the next award-giver.
"… unfortunately, the Dark Dragon Emperor Lee of Cathay could not attend, due to internal problems in his nation," said the host, demonic worms squirming under her skin. "I'd like to extend the Cabal's thanks to the Steel Maiden for being so willing and able to take his place at short notice. So here she is, to present this year's award for 'Best Newcomer'.
In the audience, Henrietta clasped her hands together, biting her lip. She mouthed a silent prayer of good luck for her friend.
A grand orchestra struck up, the overlady made her grand entrance. In the darkness outside the pool of light on the stage, she had been invisible – and the reason for this became clear. Shunning her usual full armour, she instead wore a long hooded cloak of liquid night that pooled around her and clung to her. Under that, she wore a slightly archaic long dress in deep crimson, cut conservatively – though with a low enough neckline to display flawless pale skin. Skilled tailoring managed to accentuate her narrow waist, while carefully placed armoured elements told white lies about curves. Of course, she wore her characteristic helmet, and her left hand was clenched in the dark power of her cursed gauntlet. Her ears were pierced, and the enchanted earrings allowed Jessica to whisper to her from afar.
Henrietta sighed happily. Louise-Francoise looked wonderful, she really did. Jessica had done her best. The two of them hadn't been able to get the overlady into something a little more risqué, but that didn't seem to matter.
"I'd like to thank the Cabal for the honour," Louise began, clear voice ringing out like a bell. The amplifying magics made her voice audible throughout the whole hall, even to the dragons who had been seated so they weren't blocking anyone's view. "Although I didn't win the Best Newcomer award last year, I'd like to think that this is at least some acknowledgement for my successful kidnapping of Princess Henrietta of Tristain, along with my daring heist from the royal vaults."
"Such a wonderful friend," aforementioned princess whispered.
"I look before me and I see the wickedest powers in all the world," Louise exclaimed, looking over the crowd. "I see cruel, vindictive monsters! I see utterly irredeemable abominations who would rather kick a kitten than pet it. I see the absolute worst that the Abyss has to offer!"
The forces of Evil collectively preened at the compliments. Such descriptions fed the ego most malevolently.
"But of course, one thing we must all be wary of is the benevolent influences of the Forces of Good. They work ceaselessly to thwart us. They plot and plan in light places. They send their agents in to sabotage our plans and conspire to see us killed!" Louise's voice dropped to a whisper. "Indeed, there could be some in this very room. Who knows how many demons have been redeemed by Heavenly bribes and so spy for the angels? Who knows how many alleged villains in truth are Heroes, right here and now, in disguise?" She paused meaningfully. "Who knows how many dark angels secretly still serve Heaven, reporting back to their masters?
"Take what is currently going on this moment in Amstelredamme," the overlady stated. Behind her, arcane machinery whirred to life, displaying a live feed from the Great Hall of the university. There were gasps from the audience, and demonic parents tried to cover their children's eyes to stop them seeing what was being shown.
There were orphans singing cheery winter songs. There were red and green decorations up which were neither putrid nor bloody. There was a roaring hearty fire and there were white-painted wood shavings that resembled snow but which were much less unpleasantly cold.
"A light cult is conducting sacred rituals in the Great Hall of the University, rendering the entire facility a holy place," Louise continued, raising her voice over the hubbub. "From this, we can only conclude that the dark angel Baelogi has been a servant of Heaven all along! She has wormed her way into our confidence to control Amstelredamme, a place that has always served the ways of Evil! Who can trust a dark angel who permits such righteous deeds to be conducted in a place she controls?"
From the audience, Henrietta watched with glee as Athe transformed into a black cloud and stormed out. "Go on!" she whispered.
"I fear that if one such dark angel has turned out to be serving Heaven all along, there may be others. This is something we must be wary of! Who can we Evil beings trust when a fallen angel may rise? How can we rely on those who have previously been good? It is a time to strengthen the purity of the Abyss, drawing deep upon wickedness and directing it at our greatest foes – those insufficiently dedicated to the cause of Evil! I vow in the next year I will hunt down those who merely pretend to be Evil, and I ask that all of you join me in this!"
Louise paused for breath, folding her hands in front of her. The Cabal were muttering among themselves, but at least they didn't look angry with her.
"But alas, I must thank the Cabal for their kindness in not cutting me off when I look like I might be going over time," she said, after prompting from Jessica. "Now, moving on. The nominations for Best Newcomer this year are strong, and it's going to be a very competitive year, although," Louise said, to nervous laughter, "I personally don't think it's quite as strong as last year. First up is Tiffania, Dark Queen of the Dark Elves…"
…
It was done. She had presented the award to the winner – the dark elven girl – and her part in the plan was done. Nerves on fire with elation, Louise managed to make it off stage without collapsing and then slumped against the wall, a mad grin on her face. She'd done it! It was over! Athe had stormed off and now she just had to move to take down the Madame de Montespan – and that was if Athe didn't destroy her! Which, yes, would mean she didn't get her revenge personally, but 'destroyed by a dark god she had been foolish enough to consort with' was suitably righteous that Louise wasn't about to complain.
She took the chance to laugh properly.
"Oi! 'Scuse me, lady, but we're trying to move stuff 'bout back here," a bulky demon pushing a cart full of clay jars said. "Could you go cackle somewhere else, love?"
Louise briefly considered incinerating him, but decided against ruining her good mood. "Impertinent lackey!" she snapped, and waltzed off. It had worked! She felt like dancing, but that would come later. But at least she wouldn't have to give any speeches!
"Jessica, I did it!" she crowed happily as she burst through the door to her changing room. "I did it! I barely stammered at all! That confidence potion worked and—"
"We have a problem," Jessica said flatly, from where she'd been watching it on the crystal. She had a goatee, and her dark eyes smouldered in a way that left Louise's heart fluttering.
The bottom fell out of her stomach. "What do you mean we have a problem? Why do we have a problem? What kind of problem do we have?" Louise blurted out, her voice rising in a crescendo into a shriek.
"So, uh…"
"Why are we having problems? We shouldn't be having problems!"
Jessica slapped her.
"Ow."
"Shut up and stop repeating the word 'problem', and I'll tell you," Jessica said, rubbing her hand. "Dark gods, why did I slap your helmet? Never mind that! Look!" She gestured at a complicated array of small stone statues that looked vaguely like a chessboard.
One of the pieces had fallen over. It looked half-melted, like a boiled sweet someone had sucked on.
"What's that?" Louise asked, stomach churning.
"Dark god and demon lord tracking shrine," Jessica explained handsomely. "When a dark god is defeated their icons and temples collapse and stuff, yeah? Well, each of the little statues is a tiny blasphemous icon. And Athe's one just melted."
"What… what does that mean?" Louise said, mouth dry.
"It means Athe has been defeated," Jessica said. "And… and it's reforming. Into a female shape."
"But…" Louise blinked. "He's a dark god."
"So? Dark gods get killed all the time."
"By my mother, yes," Louise said grimly.
"… well, there are some other people who can do it, but yes," Jessica said. She ran her hands through her hair, rubbing her horns. "They get killed, or get their power usurped. And… a powerful dark angel isn't much different from a dark god. So. Um. I think she got him."
"So… Baelogi defeated Athe," Louise said, pacing up and down. She rubbed her hands together, feeling cold due to more than the frozen hellish weather. "I need to get to Amstelredamme right now," she said, stomach churning.
"Right now? But if…"
"Look, remember who my mother is! I know about killing dark gods! That was a bedtime story for me when I was little!" Louise snapped. She took a deep breath. "It's important to murder a new dark god when they're only just forming! Because they're still… still digesting the power they've taken in! She'll never be this vulnerable again!"
"Let me just…"
"There isn't time! This is my fault! I need to make things right!"
"But you're not even in your armour and…"
"I don't care!" Louise's knuckles whitened around the black metal of her staff. "Jessica? Why are you still here?"
"Because…"
"Get me to the surface!"
"But…"
"Now!"
Jessica scurried out. Louise made sure the door was shut, and then collapsed down onto the floor, yanked off her Gauntlet, and screamed into her balled up fist until she felt better. The combination of fear and rage filling her veins was peculiarly exhilarating. And terrifying, of course. She was just about to do something very, very stupid. Generations of de la Vallière blood within her veins rebelled, screaming that she was being idiotically heroic and what she should be doing was tricking some saps into disposing of the newborn dark god for her so she could steal its power for herself. Indeed, the bit of her mind that had devised this plan in the first place was already thinking of ways to steal the power for herself.
Louise shook her head to dispel such thoughts, ignoring the faint worry at how good she was getting at... well, being bad. Her blood could just shut the heck up. She was only half de la Vallière. The other half of her came from her mother. And that left her with no choice about what to do next. She had to stop Baelogi. This was her fault. She had planned to have the dark angel fight Athe. And her plan had succeeded. Beyond her wildest dreams – or nightmares.
"Darn it all," Louise muttered into her balled up fist. "Stupid plans, succeeding too well."
…
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- Pronouns
- she/her
Jessica should have thought ahead and filled a spray bottle with antidote potion.
TheLastOne
Person of impeccable tastes (for destruction)
Not that surprising really. Baelogi had more characterization, and hence was a more important character.
I'm not so sure.
However I do see a team-up between the Overlady and Eleanore coming up. The eldest sister isn't going to miss the signs of a new dark god gestating and will undoubtedly break out to kill it. It seems like the sort of thing that would make Mommy happy.
The killing the dark god bit, not the teaming up with the Overlady bit. Obviously.
- Location
- Voidbetweenstars
Why would she be happy? It after all is not that hard of a thing to do apparently.
GhostStalker
Jeopardy! contestant
- Location
- NYC
Like, I know this is a Sun Tsu quote, with the rest of it twisted (very well, I might add!) to show the Bloody Duke's Machiavellian Evil nature, as is fitting (and how would Louis get a quote from the equivalent of Sun Tsu's Art of War from Cathay and the Mystic East anyway? There's probably translations in Romalian available for nobles, I guess), but I just can't not see the Soldier's line from the opening of "Meet the Soldier".
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PostwarGryphon
Traveller of Planes
- Location
- Australia
So who else thinks that someone might have taken the opportunity for a bit of political and practical fratricide?
It would be the Evil thing to do after all.
Because it would probably be the most positive bit of news the family has gotten in light of all the bad shit that has happened since Louise ran away?
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- Location
- oregon, usa
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Good chapter.
I do not think that this is the descriptor that you are looking for to use on The Bloody Duke, unless you meant to imply that he was a proponent of Democratically elected governments. The philosopher that I would use as a descriptor of The Bloody Duke is Thomas Hobbes.
I do not think that this is the descriptor that you are looking for to use on The Bloody Duke, unless you meant to imply that he was a proponent of Democratically elected governments. The philosopher that I would use as a descriptor of The Bloody Duke is Thomas Hobbes.
GhostStalker
Jeopardy! contestant
- Location
- NYC
Meh, I was talking about the pop culture conception of Machiavelli that is decidedly wrong but yet is what most people who have heard of him associate him with, not the person whose actual writings make him out to be a totally different person as you described. Probably shouldn't have because of all the pedantry over philosophy I should've expected here. But yeah, nitpicks are fun.
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Frakir's brother
Goodbye.
- Location
- The Sea of Trees
Salty
Shadow Cabal Assumptor Supreme
- Location
- Sun, Moon, Talia
- Pronouns
- I/Me
Fucking Abyssals.
Also, nice to see the whole Krisian Empire in attendance. Don't think I didn't spot the extra neomah, either.
This, though, was bloody clever. Sins and Sensibility, you cheeky bugger.
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