Misla frowned as she entered the library. Sorin was supposed in here studying. So why was it completely dark without any sounds? Did something go wrong? Were there assassins here? Sure, Devils could still see in the dark, but it was too dark to read here. If he were studying in here there should be a light somewhere.
With a thought her senses sharpened, her nose strengthening, to allow her to pick up the scents around herself. The smell of books was hard to describe. There was no dust, no mold in here. Everything was pristine and new, even the centuries old shelves being in perfect condition. Even so, books and the dry ink on them had their own distinct smell, weak normally, but strong enough when she was surrounded by a whole library of them. Yet that was not what caught her attention.
With catlike grace she glided across the floor, past rows of shelves, crossing dozens of meters in a moment to arrive at the aisle where the scent of three living beings were coming from.
Dwaaaa. So cuuuute.
Sorin was sitting with his back resting against one fo the shelves, sleeping. The black cat was curled up, head in his lap, and drool trickling down her lips as she slept. There was already a small, wet patch forming on Sorin's pants indicating that she had been at it for a while. The white cat in turn had apparently decided to snuggle in beneath Sorin's arm and had fallen asleep there while hugging him.
She wanted to rush over there and hug him, but that would have woken him up. Sorin was already working so hard to meet his father's impossible expectations - really, Zerophimus should just get over his own incompetence instead of holding Sorin to higher standards than he was ever held to - that she couldn't make it worse by depriving him of his sleep. On the other hand, sleeping here in the library wasn't good for him. She needed to get him into his bed. And discipline his cats. They were supposed to take care of their master's well being, not use him as a pillow.
With cat like tread, she stole upon Sorin, stopping just a step away. Reaching down, she pinched the backs of the necks of both of the useless cats, releasing her aura into them. The two were both simultaneously jolted awake, and unable to move, held limp and frozen in place as she physically lifted them up and off of her son. Their inability to move was all that stomped them from wilting in place as she glared at them, turning around and setting them down on the ground. She made a simple shushing noise with a finger to her lips, not that it was necessary. Her power ensured that they couldn't speak even if they were dumb enough to ignore her order.
With that she turned back to her itty bitty Sorin-kins.
A warm smile bloomed on her face as she bent over once more and gently reached down, scooping her son to her bosom and holding there. She was careful not to jostle him as she carried him back towards his room, humming a lullaby that he used to fall asleep to when he was younger the whole way.
She could smell and sense the two cats trailing behind her, careful not to disturb their owner's rest like proper servants were supposed to do. Now if only they could have taken that proper servant behaviour to getting him back to his bad when he fell asleep.
Eventually she reached Sorin's room, and set about tucking him into his bed. It required a bit of finessing, holding Sorin with one arm in a way that let him keep sleeping while moving his sheets aside with the other until she could lay him to rest. She could have asked the cats to help, but that wasn't an act of trust she was willing to give them right now. So instead she shooed them away, sending them back to their room.
"I love you Sorin."
She whispered, leaning down to lay a kiss upon his forehead.
"I love you. And I hope that someday you will forgive me."
Standing back up, she turned around and headed out. She stopped at the door, giving her son one last wistful look before stepping outside and gently closing it.
Once out in the hallway she spent a few seconds composing herself, and checking her outfit. It was a proper and formal dress, intricately designed to show her position both as Lady of House Bael and sister to Lord Vapula. It was probably not needed for this meeting, but probably wasn't good enough in this case. After all, Sorin wasn't her only child. And while she loved her sons equally, Sairaorg… Well, Sairaorg needed a lot more help than his brother did. Even if it was unfair to Sorin, she had to balance the scales for Sairaorg, lest he end up even more angry and bitter than his father did.
And so with one last second to collect herself, she cast the teleportation.
The Vapula mansion was smaller than what she was used to.
And doesn't that just say everything that there is about how much I have gotten used to being a Bael.
Objectively, it was still a magnificent mansion, the entire building easily the size of a town. It had an entire wing meant to serve as an open zoo to dozens of lion species as well, but someone had misunderstood 'open' zoo to mean that the animals were free to enter and exit the zoo at all. As a result, there were lions wondering the entire mansion and the gardens, all of them kept tame, and serving as an extra layer of security for the Vapula family.
Even now, she had only just arrived, and already there were a trio of lions nuzzling up to her, pushing their heads into her, purring and begging to be petted.
"You were always a Vapula, no matter the clothes you wore."
The laughing voice made her look up to see her brother standing there. He was tall, over two meters in height, wide and muscular. He was missing a shirt, eight pack chest hard enough to forge steel on exposed for all the world to see. He also possessed a mane of golden hair - not the color he was born with - spread out and wide, as majestic as any lion's hair.
"Lord Vapula, you do me-"
"None of that bullshit sis." He interrupted her. "You are here to meet family, not attend one of Zero's little idiotic parties."
She would have normally made a rebuttal about someone insulting her husband like that. Even if she no longer loved him, even if she desired the touch of others, they were still married. There were expectations to maintain. But she couldn't. Not here. Not given why she had come.
"Hello, brother." She greeted simply. "It is lovely to see you. How have been things here."
"Boring since you have stopped coming around."
She frowned. "I have been married for centuries." She pointed out to her brother. "So have you."
"Yes. And in all that time, how many times have you visited?" He asked simply. "How often have I gotten to meet my sister."
Misla sighed. "Zerophimus insists that as Lady Bael I am expected to-"
"Are you really going to recite what he said to be as if they were gospel while you are here to ask my help in going behind his back?"
Misla stopped, caught off guard. Sure, her brother hadn't had much love fore Zerophimus ever since his jealousies had become more visible, but he usually had the decency to not be this blunt about it. At least not unless they were behind closed doors with magical spells to prevent eavesdropping.
"Tell me, has he allowed Sairaorg to test his abilities with the Vapula talents yet?"
"No, he-"
"Of course, not. He is a Bael. Who cares about what special bloodlines cultivated over millennia someone might have if it isn't his oh so special Power of Destruction?" Misla felt herself becoming rather uncomfortable at the tone. She looked around- "Don't worry, there isn't anyone around to hear." Her brother clearly understood what she was thinking. "I made sure we would meet alone for this. I didn't want to jump around the topic. Not now, not for this."
Misla sighed, and closed her eyes. "You aren't happy." She said simply.
"Of course I am not!" Her brother yelled. "He doesn't love you anymore. He doesn't care about you as a person, as Lady Bael or even as a Vapula. All he cares about is that you don't embarrass him and serve as a broodmare to create his precious Super Devils of Destruction for him."
"He is my lord and husband." Misla protested. "By ancient law-"
"We are Devils, not Angels. Ancient laws are just a list of things that you should follow most of the time but violate each at least once in your life time. You know this. You were taught this at the foot of our parents together with me." He paused, taking a breath. During the tirade, the volume of his voice had been increasing. Now, he spoke once more, in a calmer manner. "If he wants a Super Devil heir that badly, and you want to please him that much, why don't you sleep with Sirzechs? He would take care of you and treat you with love, and no one would know that the child wasn't Zero's."
"Grayfia would know." Yes, there was no way to hide such a thing from Sirzechs's sexretary. The women might pretend to be all prim and proper, but Misla was certain that acting the part of Satan's subservient prudish maid was just what she got off on. Most importantly, Grayfia was almost always at her lord's side. When she wasn't, she could return at any moment without knocking. To sleep with Sirzechs once without being caught? A high risk gamble. To have an affair? That was suicide. "She would know, and she would kill me."
Her brother laughed at that. "You know, I think that says more than I ever could about your marriage. I suggest cheating on your husband, and your only protest is fear of the other man's wife. You didn't even mention Zero in your protest."
Misla winced. "I meant-"
"Let it be." He sighed, and shook his head. He then reached behind him, and took out a sword. "This was the best that I could get on short notice. It will only go so far. If you want Sairaorg to overcome the Power of Destruction with this, it won't last. I give it five to ten years before it fails."
Misla shook her head. "It isn't supposed to let him win. That is impossible. With Sorin training, no matter what we give Sairaorg, he will eventually overcome it. No, I just want Sairaorg to know that we care. That even if he doesn't have the Power of Destruction, that is okay. That he is loved."
"Then divorce that husband of yours, pick up your sons and come back home. Become a Vapula again. Here he won't be hated for not having that prick's power."
Misla sighed sadly. "I can't. The balance of Hell wouldn't allow it. Even if it did, he is Lord Bael. I would lose the children." She raised her hand to stop her brother's response. "You can't fight it. You can't be the one destabilizing Hell. We are still weak from the Cvill War. The Satans wouldn't allow another one."
Her brother growled. The air shook, and the ground shattered from the voice. The lions around her quickly fled, running back into the house.
"So I am to just stand and watch as you suffer?"
"What else is there?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How do you console a child whose inheritance was stolen by their brother at their father's direction?
Misla did not know what she should say. She could not blame Sorin; he hadn't asked for the fight. He had simply been made to fight, like Sairaorg, and turned out to be stronger. She could not blame her husband; not publicly, even if everything was pretty clearly his fault. So how was she supposed to help Sairaorg? It was certainly not his fault that his father was an ass.
She did not know. All she could do was go in there, and try to be there for him.
With that determination, she opened the door to the medical room. There was just a single bed and occupant there. Sairaorg was upon it, his body bruised and battered. Blood that he had been ignoring during his fight covered him, his young form looking weak and broken. Worse, the injuries did not seem just physical. Sairaorg wasn't lying down or sitting up, but curled up and crying, tears and snot coming down his face.
Misla instantly forgot her hesitation, and rushed over, pulling her son to herself as she hugged him.
"Oh, Sai. I'm so sorry."
Sairaorg didn't say anything. He just turned around and hugged her back, burying his face in her ample breasts. Within seconds she could feel the gown grow wet and clingy from his tears and snot, but ignored it. Sairaorg needed emotional support right now, and if this was all she could give him, then she would give it to him.
They remained embraced like that for a few minutes, Misla patting him and saying soft, consoling words that had no real meaning to them, until Sairaorg eventually spoke up.
"Why?" He asked, the words muffled by her breasts, but still heard with her cat like hearing. "Why is it always me? No matter how hard I try, how hard I work, he won't recognize me. And now I can't even compete with Sorin. I'm not even heir anymore, just the loser who lost the position."
"Oh, Sai. You aren't a loser. You are my lovely son."
"Who else- who else is there? Who lost the title of heir like this?"
Honestly? Misla could recall a few. Each such event was notable, with plenty of attendance, and would be recorded in books afterwards besides. That said, they were rare. The newest she could recall was from around three centuries ago. Relatively fresh news by the standards of Devils like her, but to someone like Sairaorg who hadn't even lived a tenth of that time?
"No one." Sairaorg said, misinterpreting her pause. "I'm the biggest loser of my generation."
Misla winced. Not just at the self hate in those words, but at that the fact that they were indeed true. No matter what she said, what Sairaorg just said was an undeniable fact. His only defense was losing against a twin. Even so, unless someone did something truly pathetic like being upstaged by a sibling five years their younger, this was a shame that none in his generation would match for likely centuries.
"Oh, Sai. You shouldn't worry about things like that. Don't care about what others say about you. Their opinions don't matter." She pulled back, and then knelt down, so that she was eye to eye with her son. She could see his eyes, red with crying, puffy lips, and pouting limps. It was both adorable and completely heart wrenching. She ignored it, grasping his hands, and forming them into fists. "These fists of yours are your strength. Train them, and never give up on them, no matter what. If you do that, one day you will become truly strong. Strong enough to wash away any shame you might feel right now. The opinions of those who look down on you? They won't matter once you are stronger than them." It was empty platitudes in a way. It wasn't like there weren't those with talent who also pushed their limits. Those would have an unbridgeable gap Sairaorg could never cross. Still, empty platitudes was all she had. "Become strong Sairaorg. Become the strongest that you can be, and there will be many who will accept you."
He sniffed. "Thanks mom." One hand was pulled out of his grasp to wipe away his tears. "Thank you. I will become strong enough so that you can be proud of me. Just, please don't leave me. You are the sword that you gave me are all that I have left."
Her heart clenched painfully at the words. "Oh, Sai. I would never-"
"Mrs. Bael?" A voice interrupted her. With a murderous growl she turned to the butler who was standing by the door. "Lord Bael requests your attendance at the party. He would like you to congratulate your son on his magnificent victory, and for putting on a fight worthy of a Bael."
For a moment Misla wondered if she killed and disposed of the butler, whether she could reasonably claim that he had never found her. Unfortunately, Sairaorg was still young. He would never be able to keep a secret like this. Besides, he was too young to see someone being torn to pieces while still alive before his eyes.
"Very well, tell my husband that I shall be there momentarily."
The butler put on a brittle smile at that. "I was explicitly ordered to lead you there directly."
"What? Was my Lord Husband afraid that I would become lost in my own house?"
Her tone was bitter and sarcastic. However, given the look the butler was directing at her, she got a feeling that that was exactly what he had been told.
"It was Mistress Kurva who suggested it my Lady."
Hearing the name almost made me growl. Instead she turned back to her son, who had just asked her to not leave, and was now grasping her gown, afraid that she would leave if he let go.
Which is exactly what is about to happen.
She swore. She would find out one day who was causing these things to happen with such inconvenient timing. Then, she would rip off their balls and force feed it to them. And if they lacked those body parts, she would use alchemy to force grow them a pair of balls so that she could rip if off and force feed them with it.
"I'm sorry Sai, but mommy has to go."
"No, don't go." Sairaorg protested, grasping her harder. "Don't leave me for Sorin."
She gave him the most encouraging smile that she could, and petted his head. "Don't worry Sai. I will be back as soon as I can."
It still took a minute to disentangle his hand, but once she did, she was able to leave, following the butler out the room. Her heart was heavy the whole way, each step weighing heavily on her, even as duty forced her forward. Duty and Sorin. Sorin who reminded her so much of Venelana, lovely, warm and caring Venelana - when she wasn't being a manipulative bitch - as opposed to Sairaorg who reminded her of her husband. Both had so much good in them, but so much potential for things to turn bad as well.
I just hope I can ensure both their happiness.
The minutes as she was lost in her thoughts before they reached the party were painful as she was lost in her thoughts. In both fears and hopes for a future that she was struggling to have any control over. Fears and hopes that disappeared as she saw Sorin, awkwardly talking to other children who seemed to be congratulating him. She could tell the moment he spotted her, the uncertainty on his face giving way to a happy smile.
The worries in her heart disappeared at that smile, and for a moment she forgot all proprietary.
By the time she became aware of herself again, she had crossed the room in the blink of an eye, picked up Sorin, and hugged him to her bosom. Sorin's arms were flailing wildly at her side, while people were politely laughing, a few utterances of "mommy's boy" heard over the laughter. Misla blushed. Maybe publicly embarrassing Sorin like this hadn't been the best of ideas.
Then, Sorin hugged her back, and whispered four words into her breasts. "I love you mom"
Her embarrassment disappeared, and for once in years, she was just content and happy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Too fast. Far too fast.
She had always expected Sairaorg's Demonic Sword to be rendered useless, but not this soon. No, not just rendered useless, but completely destroyed beyond any possibility of repair. All in a simple 'spar' for a useless title that Zerophimus would have never allowed Sairaorg to enjoy having. Even if he could have acquired it.
Twice defeated, and this time forced to surrender. Forced to admit his inferiority before the Power of Destruction.
She wasn't sure why it was Sorin that Zerophimus preferred. The parallels with Sairaorg were painfully plain for those with eyes.
No, I know why he prefers Sorin. It is precisely because he seems himself in Sairaorg. The heir by birth, the weakling, the loser. What he hated in himself, Sairaorg is all of that, and he can't see the differences.
And now, here she was attending a party once more, expected to smile and laugh and be polite at Sorin's birthday celebration.
Sorin's, not Sorin and Sairaorg's. Because Lucifer forbid that Zero be subtle in showing his displeasure with my son.
Oh, and here the asshole came now, Kurva hanging off of his arm in a matching dress, the symbol of House Bael emblazoned upon her chest.
"Lady Bael, it is so nice that you could make it to your son's birthday celebration."
Misla took a quick glance around. No, there were too many witnesses here to get away with tearing the bitch's head off. So instead Misla politely smiled at the gold digging whore. "Of course, Lady- I'm sorry, what family were you from again? I'm afraid I don't keep tracking of the pedigree of toys. Well, no matter. As I was saying, I was attending to my other son. You see, Sairaorg and Sorin are this thing called 'twins' that you might have heard about-"
"Enough." Zero interrupted. "Both of you are in public. Keep your catfights to private. Do not shame House Bael in front of others again."
Yes. After all, you have already brought so much shame on us already that there is no more room for more.
"Misla." Her 'husband' said, turning to her. "I understand you are a dutiful mother as you are a dutiful wife, but you should spend less time on the embarrassment. Sorin is the heir of House Bael now, and he needs the help and support to become worthy of the title of Lord Bael."
Misla took a deep breath, and let it out. "I understand my lord. I shall endeavour to take that into consideration."
"Not just consideration." He insisted. "See that you follow my instructions."
Just ten more years. Ten more years at this pace until Sorin is strong enough to take away as Lord Bael despite his youth. Then I can arrange for Zerophimus to have an accident. I just need to be patient until then.
"Very well, my Lord."
Misla ground her teeth as she smiled at him. It wasn't like it mattered what she said here. She could just visit Sairaorg without being spotted, and if she was, there wasn't much Zerophimus could do to punish her for spending time with her son.
It might harm my marriage, but there isn't much left to harm. I just need to keep it in enough shape that he doesn't replace me with Kurva until he can be retired from his position.
It was only late at night, once the party had ended, that she had time to get away and actually talk to Sairaorg. She had seen him after the fight, but he had been asleep, sleeping off his injuries. It was different now.
Sairaorg's room was decadent. Just as decadent as Sorin's. While Sairaorg might no longer be the heir, and be the unliked son, so long as Misla wasn't set aside, certain standards were expected to be provided to Sairaorg as a scion of the Bael family. Things like a large comfortable room, servants, and expensive furniture.
The servants were no where to be seen. As for the expensive furniture, well, most of it was broken, shattered all over the place. There were dents in the walls and the floor where something had been smashed into them. Sairaorg was alone, standing in the middle of the room, a dressing cabinet in his hands. Even as Misla watched, he hurled it with a scream of rage, the cabinet denting the wall and only failing to embed itself because of how it shattered, chunks of rare wood and expensive clothes flying everywhere.
Misla took a moment to look around the room, before finding a pile of broken furniture that had the pieces of a couch on top. Sauntering over to them, she sat down, and waited for Sairaorg to finish his temper tantrum.
It actually took longer than she would have expected. As it turned out, the servants had the survival instincts to realize that Sairaorg needed something to went his frustration on, and furniture was more replaceable than they were. Well, at least in their opinions. Misla wasn't a Gremory, so she didn't consider those servants to be her family. Still, the point was, that whenever Sairaorg was busy with one pile, a group of servants would sneak in and bring another pile of furniture to set down before scurrying out to avoid being spotted.
This continued well past midnight, until near dawn, before Sairaorg was finally too exhausted to continue.
"Are you feeling better?" Misla asked her son, as she walked over to him and hugged him. "Did not make you feel better?"
Sairaorg did not act surprised as her presence. She had a feeling he had noticed her at some point, but ignored her in his rage. Instead, he just turned around skulking, making her hug him from behind.
"No. It didn't." She could see his fists clenching and unclenching, feel his body shaking in her grip. "Why? Why am I so inferior to Sorin?"
Because he was born withe Power of Destruction. Because he was born smarter than you. Because he is better than you.
Naturally she could not say that. Not now.
"Don't compare yourself to Sorin. We all have people that we are inferior to. Your father was inferior to his elder sister Venelana. Everyone in our generation was inferior to the Four Great Satans of the following generation. There is nothing wrong with that. Others might compare you to whomever they want, to put you down so as to feel better about themselves. Don't listen to them. Those are just the toothless whining of the weaklings. If you want to become strong, it is those weaklings you should set your eyes on. Surpass them, and then if they taunt you shut them up with your fists."
"Even you." The words were quiet, a whisper. "Even you say I can't surpass Sorin. What is it? What is it that makes him so much BETTER than me?"
"He trains. Training can overcome talent, but only if those without talent don't train just as hard. Until Sorin stops training, you can't surpass him with training."
"Then WHAT?" His words were now yells. "What can I do to win? I was so close! Just a bit more!"
Yes, you managed to enough to get serious. Then you lost.
"I don't know." Misla said simply. "You have a strong foundation in the basics. But that isn't enough. You need to find something else, something special to you, that can rival the Power of Destruction and master that."
"What? What do you I have that others don't have?" Sairaorg protested. "I am a Bael, but I don't even have the Power of Destruction."
"You are also a Vapula. Tell me, have you tried learning our bloodline?"
Sairaorg shook his head. "What can I do with controlling lions? In a one on one-"
"The Vapula bloodline doesn't allow you to just control lions." Misla interrupted. "It is cats in general, though lions are easiest. However, even beyond that, we are able to take on the traits of those animals, enhance our bodies. The Buné have the power to control Dragons, but some members can even turn into Dragons. It has been speculated to be the same for the Vapula, but none have tried it. After all, why spend a few decades learning to become a single lion when you can use it to build a larger pack?"
"Then what is the point?" Sairaorg protested. "What is the point of becoming a cat in the face of the Power of Destruction?"
Misla did not blame him for that thought. Many had had similar thoughts. It was their excuse - her excuse - for why they were too lazy to train constantly to achieve that state. And yet, the promise was there.
"Have you ever heard of the Nemean Lion? It was a lion in ancient Greece, killed by Heracles and turned into a Sacred Gear by the Biblical God. Until then, it was as powerful as most Gods. Dragons may be stronger and more famous than lions, but that doesn't mean that lions are weak, that they have no potential."
Misla stepped back, and forcefully turned Sairaorg around before kneeling down to face him. "You asked me what you have that is unique. In you," she tapped him on his heart, "you have the potential to become a lion with the power of a God. That is you. You have that. I won't force you to choose that. You can find some other path. But if you can't? Give up your rivalry with Sorin. Give up the position of heir, and forget about your father. He isn't worth your anguish. Leave your life. You are still the second child of House Bael, a powerful and rich Devil. You have a bright and successful future ahead of you, so long as you can clear your heart and forget them."
It was a long shot, but it was what she had. If Sairaorg stopped comparing himself to Sorin, he could be happy. He could marry into a different family, find love, and enjoy many millennia of happiness and luxury.
"How can I learn this ability."
Sadly, her wishes weren't to be.
"I can't teach it to you." Misla answered sadly. "Zero has forbidden me from interacting with you much. While I have no interest in listening to that for the minor things, he would lash out over this. Besides, there are those who are better at the Vapula arts than I am." And he did recently ask you to come over. "Tell me, Sairaorg? How would you like to meet and stay over at your uncle's place for some time?"
Yes, maybe if I can have him live with the Vapulas, I can get him to stop caring so much about being a Bael.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Picnics were fun, Misla decided. Sure, it mostly involved a group of rich ladies sitting around and gossiping, but they could gossip over what they wanted, instead of what society expected. They also got to take others with them when they went to the restroom.
Like now.
Misla thought, moaning into Venelana's mouth as a trio of fingers slid in and out of her. Her fingers were similarly going inside of Venelana, the other married woman responding with moans in kind. The both of them worked quickly, moving without much patience or care, stimulating all of the sensitive spots on each other's bodies until they came together, mere minutes after entering the restroom.
"You were unusually eager today." Venelana noted once they are finished, bringing her fingers up to lick Misla's juices off of them. "Zero keeping you more frustrated than usual?"
"He won't even touch me. He has even forbidden me from using his mistress."
Venelana frowned. "Mistress? Singular?"
"Kurva is pregnant. And I think Zero is in love with her. Enough to give up his harem to make her happy. He has been looking into ways to marry her."
"But he can't." Venelana protested. "Not without setting you aside."
"And he can't do that while Sorin is his heir." Misla agreed.
"On the other hand, if you the new child ends up showing more potential then Sorin-"
Misla laughed at that. "When they will be a decade younger? Unless the child is the second coming of Sirzechs, he will never surpass Sorin before Sorin is old enough to become Lord Bael."
"Assuming Zero lets him become Lord Bael. Many family heads like to step down and retire once their heir is old enough, but the laws do not mandate it. If this child proves promising enough, Zero might stay on with the position until Sorin can be replaced."
That made Misla grimaced. That would make it the second of her children who would be replaced like that. Well, this was still an extreme hypothetical case. The odds of the child having that much talent and bothering to cultivate it were minimal. The threat to her position was negligible.
But best to keep in mind. It might make sense to start planning for the worst case scenario.
"I understand. Still, we should return, now that we are done with our business."
"Oh, no, I still need to pee." Venelana replied, moving into a toilet stall. "I wasn't lying when I gave that as an excuse to join you on your business."
And so Misla got to spend a couple of minutes waiting and watching as Venelana peed. Because she didn't have the decency to close the door on herself. Eventually though, they were done, washed up, and headed back out to the picnic.
At the picnic were over a dozen noble ladies of various noble houses. Not all of them were there - these meet ups were supposed to be for fun, so they were organized frequently enough that missing one was not considered a social faux pas, but not so frequently that few would attend - but they were all friends, or at least acquaintances here. Most had been on the right side of the Civil War after all, and the rest were those who had done their best to create a place for themselves in the new governmental order.
Unlike those losers who still haven't accepted their defeat, and are barely subsisting on the edges simply because the Satans are too soft hearted to spend a day exterminating them.
"Ravina, how has your daughter Ravel been recently?"
Misla politely inquired, sitting down on a rock neck to the target of her attention. It was a nicely picked spot, at the edge of the waterfall where they were doing their picnic. From here, one could see as the water turned from a clear blue to a golden color going over the cliff before falling for over three miles. The phenomenon had some scientific explanation, published by Ajuka's department, but Misla had never cared to learn it. All she knew was that it made the view beautiful, and that normally this was a popular diving spot for young Devils when not being used for other purposes.
"Quite well, Misla. She has been inquiring about your son, Sairaorg."
Ravina Phenex was the current Lady Phenex, a blonde, and the hottest woman in Hell. In the very literal sense of the word, because she was was basically living hell fire. She was currently wearing a simple set of clothes - all of them were - appropriate for an excursion where they were expected to get dirty and just have fun. It was still quite proper, skirt going down to her ankles, and her upper body lacking a neckline to show her breasts. Misla was dressed in a similar manner. The only one here she was interested in seducing was Venelana, and that was a relationship she was trying to keep hidden.
"He has been well. He has been training with his uncle in the Vapula bloodline."
"Oh?" Ravina asked surprised. "I thought Lord Bael was insistent on a Bael only using the Power of Destruction."
Misla shrugged. "He has made no complaints about the arrangement." Largely, because he did not know about it. Zerophimus tended not to think about Sairaorg unless he was brought up. He liked to pretend that he only had one son, and only kept up with the progress of that one son. "Besides, it has been quite productive. It seems Sairaorg has a real talent for the family arts."
"Oh, my." Ravina's eyes took on a speculative gleam. "But then, if he can only control lions, he will never be accepted as the Bael heir."
"No, he wouldn't." Misla agreed. That was simple enough to agree with. She had already decided not to play favorites as to which son she wanted for the position, and looking at things objectively, Sorin became the better choice. "I am hoping that having him grow up outside the Bael house would remove any attachments he might have to keeping the name of Bael. It would mean that his future wife would be able to keep her name, and stay with her family."
It was rather blunt, and to the point, but they had danced around this topic often enough. Ravel was the baby of the Phenex family. If she could marry someone of status and stay with her parents still, the entire family would want that.
"Ravel and Sairaorg are still just children." Ravina nodded. "They might change their minds as they grow older."
"You are more familiar with Ravel than I am. Do you see your daughter ever changing her mind?"
Ravina sighed, and shook her head. "No, I do not. The girl is determined. She is only seven now, but already stubborn to a fault. I think she inherited the stubbornness from both her parents."
"That is what happens when you marry in family. Sometimes family traits end up doubling up." And when personality traits could be passed on by blood - magic was weird like that - that meant the possibility of extreme personality traits. "What was that new saying young Devils have? Incest is the best, mount your cousin without rest?"
"I believe the saying references a sister, but cousin is more accurate in our case, yes." Ravina agreed. "You seem rather insistent about this marriage."
"I believe that they would make each other happy."
Or at least, Misla was gambling on Ravel succeeding in making Sairaorg happier than she had with her own husband. Maybe if she had been better at directing his emotions to herself, he wouldn't have become a shell of the man he had been before their marriage. Not that it mattered now, Zero was beyond salvaging. All she could do was stack the deck as far as she could to help Sairaorg. If it failed? Well, she was willing to gamble Ravel's future happiness to ensure Sairaorg's.
"Would Sairaorg truly be happy with this?" Ravina inquired. "He, the male first child, would be giving up his family name to join the family for the female fourth child. Do you truly believe that would make him happy?"
"Yes." Misla lied. She did not know. All she could do was regularly talk with Sairaorg. Convince him of this way of thinking. "The House of Bael holds nothing to him. If he finds love, affection and acceptance in the House of Phenex? Well, what is a name in the face of the love of a family?"
"If you are certain." Ravina sighed. "Ruvel won't have any games or training for them for a week next month. Why don't you have Sairaorg come over to our house at that time? He can share a room with Riser, spend the day with Ravel, and Ruvel can take care of them. If you want him to be accepted by the family, he needs to get to know them right."
Misla smiled. "Of course. Just tell me the time, and I shall arrange the sleepover."
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