Dagon watched from his tower as his brother's ship took off in the night, just as the moon began to rise and light up the dark harbor. He folded his hands under his chin and sighed out with relief, and alarm.
The least reliable of all of his siblings was now out and about on a quest to save the world. The least talented. The least capable. Yet, he was proud that the man had at least grown up enough to claim a city on his own. Still, old habits died harder than a roach and so he had that itch on his shoulder to supervise him.
The only problem was that he had very little people he trusted any longer, and the ones he did have, he found value elsewhere than in his presence.
Dagon had no loyalty - he only had fear. If he left his stronghold to do as his brother requested, he would need to leave everything here to chance. While these humans didn't like Azrael either, they certainly didn't like the prince, either.