"Brother the royal mages have begun the ceremony," Leila stepped out onto the balcony beside the Emperor.
He was looking down over the court yard as a warm spring ever fluttered through the open window to the office behind him. He turned slowly and met her gaze.
"Are you ready?" Leila went on.
Her ruby lips turned eagerly into a smile. She had the same impenetrable blue eyes as her brother, only this time they were unguarded. They were watching him as a child watches their parent perform some mundane task with absolute fascination. It had always been that way. Though they weren't separated by many years, her brother had been more of a father figure than their own father.
Now, several years had elapsed due to their separation. Her misdeed, though he never mentioned it was a source of residual agitation to Leila. Now perhaps, it could be finally be erased. And with this act, the memory of that woman who never should have born the name Empress could be buried too.
The Emperor followed her out into the tower. The grounds had been cleared. Only the royal mages were present. 'The deal' as they were calling it though it was more of an invitation to the some demon they had procured would open a demonic door, a portal into the demon world.
The ceremony was at it's apex when the Emperor arrived. He stood and watched as a great black looming gateway appeared like a ghastly manifestation in the center of the grounds. The blue skies disappeared with it's malevolent energy and dark clouds appeared from nowhere, spiralling around them menacingly.
The sky cracked and thunder roared as if in in mourning at the sight. Rain began to pour as the great door swung open revealing the deep void within .
"It's done!" Leila exclaimed promptly, "You need only give the word, brother,"
Keitel stared at the black veil across from him. It felt as though it mocked him with memories. His own wife had been dragged within, never really returning from it's grip. Now, he too would go through. No matter the intention, an Emperor leads by example. If he was the first to die, perhaps the Empire would be better off.
He stepped past the line of mages and knights alike and stared within.
Suddenly, there was rumbling. The hinges of the great door flew shut. Leila at once interrogated.
"What is this?" she said a shrill but restrained voice.
"I'm not sure," the mage hesitated.
Of course, she didn't know. The tower wasn't in the practice of teaching magic such as this in the first place. They had probably constructed the spell from Michael's leftovers. A small uncontrollable grin crept over Keitel's face. He didn't need to wait for an explanation. He had fought in the last war himself. He knew at once.
"Where is clover, right now?" he said, staring down at his little sister.
"I.." Leila stammered, "We had guards stationed outside the room as soon as the others departed,"
The small whisper of laugh came against Keitel's wishes. He covered his mouth instinctively and turned away. Leila followed wide-eyed and apprehensive.
"Brother?" she asked timidly.
"It seems the demon lord has closed the door on the other side," he glanced back.
Clover had done the same many years ago. He knew it probably better than any of these noble children they called mages.
"What?" Leila's eyes widened even further. She turned to the knights ordering them to the demon lord room to investigate. Keitel watched her. She was trying so hard. He almost felt bad for her. He often had to remind himself she was no longer a child. That was a mistake he wouldn't make again. Still...
He turned back to the door and its spiralling ruins and provoking glare. Why did he feel relieved?
----------------------------
**The demon world**
"Lord Yashtara, what a surprise,"
Varseille flew off his lizard and landed on the gritty red embankment beneath. The harsh lines on his disparaging mask were caught by the twilight shadows. The sun was setting behind a silhouetted dark palace of cups.
On one side of the desert plain, Yashtara's house of clubs stood fiercely opposed to Varseille's troops. The tell of their house was the surplus of swords made of bone and white markings bearing ruins of long forgotten words. Leading them with a savage smile stood Lord Yashtara. She was glaring down with wild eyes, a foot or so above Varseille. Her tongues slithered across her lips.
"So this is the great lord of the East who we have heard so much about," she responded, "If you've come to cry and beg forgiveness, it's much to late,"
"What do I have to beg forgiveness for?" Varseille laughed.
On his side, the demons from the house of coins bore their own mark, each with a face guarded under a mask apart from Ace and Kalandra who stood by his side. Kalandra stared emotionlessly into the crowd of demons with a blood lust that rivalled their own. Ace was otherwise occupied inspecting the palace beyond.
"It's one thing to break our laws as the lord of the west does," Yashtara remarked, "but at least they have the guts to do it out in the open for all to see. You, on the other hand go creeping around the human world and plotting against your own like a desert worm!"
"Aren't you the one who came sneaking out to the palace of cups in the dead of night," Varseille returned.
"Only the demon king has the right to take more than one seat. That is the law as old as time. A lord may not challenge another lord without such title," Yashtara declared.
"The king is dead," Varseille sneered, "this world is need of order. I plan to instill some."
"Order?" Yahstara let out a thunderous laugh, "What order?! You sound like a damn human! You cannot possibly hope to wear the crown,"
" I don't need a crown to rule. All I need is power," Varseille said in a low voice, "Now, I have it. You on the other hand...you went begging for the lord of the west's crumbs and left empty handed. Now, you attempt to take the north behind my back? I heard the lord of the south has no fear. Yet everything you have done reeks of cowardice."
"YOU dare accuse me of cowardice?!" Yashtara roared, "We have a saying in the south. The only way you can know a coward is by the colour of his blood. Let us see who is truly deserving of the title of king," she unsheathed her sword and launched at him.
Varseille didn't move from where he was standing. He slipped a small box from under his white sleeve and wrapped his fist around it. As Yashtara's sword tore towards him, he punched directly at it. The blade was shattered and the force of the blow sliced through Yashtara's shoulder. She immediately fell back.
She stared down at the wound apathetically. Then her eyes came back darkly to Varseille.
"You attack me with such pathetic tricks?" she hissed.
Varseille threw his head back with a laugh, "It doesn't matter how the crowd comes to bend the knee as long as they bend it. I have tricks much more interesting than this, Yashtara. If you didn't come to play, I suggest you run home quickly.
"I think not," she lifted her hand and the full force of her men rushed towards Varseille. In turn, he motioned on his side. The battle began with the crash of swords and splattering of blood. Varseille and Yashtara faced off.
There was a fiery exchange of blows pummelling each other and everything around. Demonic magic flew down from the sky in a chaotic storm of destruction. Any demon no matter which side under the fire was killed. Hundreds more were tearing each other apart all around. In Yashtara's camp, a horde of beasts were released from cages and began trampling through the battlefield.
In the midst of this commotion, Ace had his eyes set on one target. The slightly blue hue of the palace in the distance had caught his eyes and no number of demons seemed to be able to distract him from it. His sword swung so lightly and nimbly, it was as though anyone who approached simply dropped dead. And the bodies did pile as he set off fixedly towards his target.
Kalandra took advantage of the trail he had cut out and followed behind. Within minutes they reached the palace walls.
"Is it okay to leave Varseille just like that?" Ace remarked with irritation upon catching a glimpse of her behind him.
"He ordered me to stay with you," Kalandra returned apathetically, "What about you? Does he know you're skipping out on the battle?"
"I never said I would fight," Ace answered indifferently.
Kalandra looked back at the trail of bodies with a smile, "What a pity. I was quite enjoying watching you kill,"
Ace glanced back coldly, "If you have something to say Kalandra, I suggest you keep it to yourself. I'm not in the mood to hear it,"
"I was only admiring your work," she answered, "I knew you had it in you but all those pathetic emotions were getting in the way. I mean look at you now. The palace of cups will be yours. What a terrible irony,"
"What's ironic about it? The fact that I am the lord of an abandoned palace?"
"Clover once told me that each palace represents one aspect of the demon god. Can you guess what the palace of cups represents?"
Ace didn't answer. He was already at the doors of the great hall. He pushed them open unceremoniously and went inside. He had never laid eyes on the palace of cups before. It had a certain retiring grandeur that the other palaces lacked. Or at least it must have in the past.
The castle walls were light and airy with great windows in the ceilings. Thick velvet hung along the trimmings but were torn from their frames. The passageway was marked, with two shining hourglass glass cups. A strange blue liquid sloshed around within them. The strange inner glow reminded Ace of the elf country and their magical glowing sign posts that burned through the night.
Ace placed a hand to the cold surface of the hourglass.
"Did you guess yet?" Kalandra came up from behind.
Ace let out a sigh, "I don't care."
"You should at least know this much if you are to be it's lord," Kalandra replied. "Cups represent emotion - pain..."
"There he is!" came an outraged voice. "The one that came with lord of coins,"
A demon who had snuck after them and had been lurking in the twilight burst forward. Ace threw out his sword without looking. It cut the demon straight through. A slew of blood splashed across the gentle glow of the hourglass. He turned back to Kalandra, flicking the blood from his sword with dark unmoved eyes.
"All I know is, it's mine. That's all that matters."