A little over a minute had passed since Landrose issued the order, and his knights (supposedly) remained stoic in their formation. Yet, the tension was palpable. Some shifted their weight from one foot to the other, trying to maintain the facade of steadfastness. While others simply looked away awkwardly.
"I-I meant, s-seize him quickly!" Landros stuttered, his face reddening with embarrassment and fear. He knew his command had come out more like a question than a command. But the demon-lord remained unmoved, his expression unchanged. It was as if he was watching a poorly performed play, biding his time before he decided if it was worth the effort to leave his throne.
Again, Landros tried. "I said, seize him!" he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. Yet, the knights remained frozen in their places, their eyes darting from their prince to the demon-lord and back again.
"W-what's the meaning of this?" Landrose managed to ask, his voice a tremulous whisper that seemed to hang in the air like a shimmering mirage.
Kasper sighed, his eyes never leaving the page of his book. "It's quite easy, really," he said, his voice a calm oasis in the desert of tension. "I... i mean my father saw through your plan before you even put it into motion." He looked up, his gaze meeting Landros's desperate eyes.
"But thats--" Landrose added, "Impossible?" Kasper finished for him.
Two weeks earlier, in the castle's war room, a secret gathering had unfolded under the cloak of nightfall. The walls of the chamber had been adorned with maps and charts, a strategic tapestry detailing the layout of the kingdom and the known locations of Xhaka's forces. The room was dimly lit, the flickering candles casting dancing shadows that seemed to whisper secrets of their own.
"I'm telling you all!!" Landrose's voice boomed over the oval table, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. "Xhaka will lead us all to ruin!" His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of agreement, but the assembly remained stoic.
In attendance at the covert meeting were the other demon lords, the ministers of Castle Ashgate: Nero, Samael, and Amenadiel. Each one had arrived in their own way, shrouded by the cloak of darkness, their footsteps silent upon the cold stone floor. They had gathered around the grand oak table, each bearing the weight of their own realms' fate.
Amenadiel, Minister of Fort Marina, a dark-skinned giant with a gleaming bald pate, sat back in his chair, his great red goat horns casting an eerie glow in the candlelight. His eyes, a piercing amber, studied Landros with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He sighed, "i don't know, Landrose."
"It's because of Xhaka's leadership that we were able to get rid of the last hero," Amenadiel spoke up, his voice a rumble that seemed to resonate with the very stones of the castle.
"Yes, but its because of Xhaka's 'leadership' that we've been stuck in a stalemate with the human realm for what feels like the last hundred years," Landrose said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Long enough by the way, that his friends in the capital found the time to summon a new hero." His eyes swept over the other demon lords, who shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
"My fellow lords, I implore you, cast aside your reservations and biases," Landrose said, his eyes shifting to meet each pair of gazes around the table. "Look beyond the battles we've won under Xhaka's command, and consider the future of our realms. We must unite against this new threat."
The room remained silent for a moment, the candlelight dancing across the faces of the demon lords as they pondered his words. The air grew thick with doubt and unspoken allegiance.
"Lords--" Landrose begun, before one of the demon-lord's agreed with him, "I agree with Landrose." Nero, Minister over the Den of Brazier, spoke up. He was the picture of refined elegance, with white hair slicked back to reveal the sharp lines of his face. His blue eyes, like sapphires set in marble, held a piercing intelligence that was often underestimated by those who didn't know better. His short, white horns curved gracefully from his forehead, a stark contrast to the jagged, menacing ones that Xhaka boasted. Nero was the kind of demon that could charm the venom from a serpent, and his smile was said to be able to melt the iciest of hearts.
"K-Knight of Brazier," Landrose said, his smile growing wider than the Grand Canyon, "--Aside from the fact that we are indebted to him for ending the last hero's crusade over fifty years ago, what exactly has Xhaka done for us lately?" His words hung in the air like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down for the demon-lords to pick up.
"If you ask me, Xhaka's past ties to the kingdom of Per Sempre could be affecting his judgment," Nero said smoothly, his eyes never leaving Landrose.
"NERO!" Samael, the Minister over Hatchett Cathedral, bellowed, his voice resonating through the war room like the toll of a mournful bell. His long, lanky frame was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the chamber, his balding head and overly long horns giving him the appearance of a scarecrow that had stumbled into a royal court. His eyes, a fiery shade of red, flashed with anger. "You dare speak against our supreme demon-lord?" His voice was like a serrated blade, slicing through the tension.
Nero, unfazed by the outburst, waved a dismissive hand. "Even disregarding his past ties with the human realm," he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "the demon-realm has been in a pitiful state since the final battle at Everdale..." He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "...Inadequate funding, wars of attrition, regressing technologies..."
"If you ask me," Nero said, his voice smoother than silk, "Xhaka seems quite content with the current peace that plagues us."
"N-Nero," Samael sputtered, his fiery gaze locked onto the man who had just spoken treason against their leader. Yet, the anger that had fueled his voice was replaced by an unexpected hesitance as Nero's words sunk in.
Landrose, on the other hand, felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. His eyes lit up with a fervor that seemed to outshine the candles themselves. "Yes! Yes, exactly!" He exclaimed, slapping the table so hard that the maps and scrolls scattered. His laughter echoed through the chamber, a sound that was part relief, part triumph.
"And what of you, Amenadiel?" Landrose asked with eyes as eager as hungry puppies, hope shimmering in the depths of his gaze as he searched for their support.
Amenadiel's sigh was like the wind through a graveyard, heavy with the weight of his realm's troubles. He leaned forward, his great horns casting shadows on the table. "It's true," he admitted, his voice a gruff rumble. "Fort Marina has fallen behind. Our ships are slower, our armaments outdated. The human realm has surpassed us in innovation and efficiency."
Landrose nodded furiously, his eyes alight with a fierce determination that was mirrored in the flames of the candles. "Exactly!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
Nero leaned forward, his white hair catching the candlelight and casting a ghastly pallor over his face. "And It's not just that, Amenadiel...," he begun, his voice low and measured. "This new hero... its possible they might the strongest one in all of Per Sempre's history" His eyes swept over the other demon lords, his gaze as sharp as the points of his horns.
"... what?!" Landrose exclaimed, his eyes going wide with shock. He had not expected his words to hold such sway over the demon lords. For a moment, he felt a thrill of power surge through him, a taste of what it might be like to lead. But that was quickly replaced by the bitter taste of fear as the weight of a bleaker future settled on his shoulders.
-To Be Continued-