"What I think?" Mel mumbled, looking at the open window where the different birds flew upon the winds. Some swallows, some pigeons, and some robins. They were all just birds, right? They all lived under the same sky, and while their wings may be clipped from time to time, they always managed to fly once more. If, say, a common darkness flooded the sky, all of them would fall. Besides, what Daniella said was true: if one of their own was to be struck down, the entire flock would descend and tear down the murderer. Ironically, he should be struck down as well. But, no one could know that. Not yet.

Mel stood up, walking over to the window as he looked at how the flocks soared through skies before descending to the villages below. His villages, his people. "The sin of its king should not be passed down to the people, right?" he smiled before turning the bishop. "I have made my decision." Mel strode over to his throne before plopping down on it again, his index finger running over his chin in thought. "I--"

Before he could speak, Ainsley and Lance strode into the room. The king nodded to them, acknowledging their presence and beckoning for them to come closer to the throne. "Ainsley," his voice broke a bit after calling out the servant's name. He offered the two a smile before he sat on the throne, knowing full well that his long-time aide was going to fuss over his kingly robes. In his defense, wearing those things could be equated to that of a stove: you are being cooked inside. Sure, it looked fancy enough for gatherings, but for practical reasons, Mel believed he was better off naked. Still, Ainsley was the only one in this room (probably the entire kingdom) who knew that he was the one who sent the assassins to slay the monarchs of Michael. In fact, when he succumbed to a mental breakdown due to the nightmares, Ainsley was by his side until he hired the assassins on the eve of the celebration of the Alliance Library. Of course, when he was transformed into his adolescent self, Ainsley was the first one to see him in complete dishevelment. At this point, this lone servant knew all of the king's darkest and deepest secrets and regrets. Up to this moment, Mel successfully deceived his entire kingdom that it was Tenebris' doing, not his. Oh, but Ainsley knew the whole truth.

"Quite fitting, is it not?" Mel grinned, taking a cup of tea before sipping from it. "Since you two are here, I'd better instruct the lot of you already." he cleared his throat before proceeding. "Valentine has asked for the triumvirate of kingdoms to meet within the round table. For all we know this could be a trap, but as Daniella has placed it, regardless of whether it is a trap or not, we could still benefit from meeting with the other kingdoms." He eyed the three in the room before nodding to himself as if he just thought of the best plan ever. "Daniella, Lance, and Ainsley, you will accompany me to this meeting. However, I would need Ainsley to be trained before we leave for the Round Table. Thus, Lance Nystrom, you are relieved from your guarding duties. I will just assign someone else to do it for the moment. You will be training Ainsley in the art of the sword as well as in combat. Ainsley is knowledgeable in combat, but I assume that the skill of one of Gabriel's finest knights would be able to teach more than just one form of swordsmanship. After all, I should expect Michael and Raphael to bring their finest warriors as well. In the event of a forceful diplomatic event, the two of you can defend yourselves. Daniella will be the intermediator between Gabriel and Michael, just in case the twins refuse to even speak with me. At the very least, they'll speak with a representative of angels."

"Of course, I might just be paranoid." Mel grinned as he finished the cup. "But, if it is for the good of the people, then, I think it is all worth it." Utter Surety, that had been the Fairchilds' motto since the genesis of their bloodline, and even now, Mellurium refused to leave himself wide open for the enemy to strike. If he wasn't the ruler of Gabriel, he wouldn't have bothered with all these preparations. His death would have no effect. But it was different now. Everything was different now. "Nystrom, Ainsley, both of you are dismissed, but prepare your the things that you will need for the journey. Also, Ainsley, prepare the simplest carriage you can find. I don't fancy travelling in the royal carriage; it just screams 'rob me' to all those raiders."

As soon as Lance and Ainsley would take their leave, the king would soon turn to his bishop. "And, you, Daniella, have studied the ancient scriptures. I have something to ask about demons. Specifically, what do their curses entail? I heard rumors of demonic beings in the distant lands. Tales of curses have reached my ears, and I would like to know what to expect."

---

As much as Rancor tried to keep a formal poise and form even after his self-slapping incident, a few of the strings within his core were strummed as he saw the Queen smile and hold back a giggle. As hard as it was to feign ignorance of the queen's allure, at this moment, Rancor just chose to let the small joys warm him inside. After all, there was no way he was going to go with them to this joyful gathering of airhead monarchs. If anything, his skills suited the household and, to an extent, the castle rather than toting off with politics. Still, he had no say in the conversation. Most obviously, his opinion held little weight in these matters. The only place where his opinion mattered is what attire King Auberon and Queen Adeline should wear, and whether that slice of cake she was eating would put some extra pounds on her belly. Hence, Rancor opted to remain quiet, just watching the events unfold as he poured one cup after another to anyone who would want tea.

His eyes wandered over to Lord Hadrian and Lady Olfina, honorable people. The servant already betted that blasted lone lock of hair that they would be the chosen ones to accompany the monarchs. Lord Hadrian legendary skill was more than enough to deter any foul play during the meeting, and Lady Olfina's skill with combat could also be put to good use. If Rancor would put it, Michael would possess the most frightening set of guards in that meeting. Father and daughter whose skills rival that of entire platoons; oh, the look on Gabriel and Raphael's faces would be priceless. But, that was not all. Lord Hadrian's calming personality and stoic figure could also serve as a visage of strength should the meeting turn awry. He was not one to tolerate any suspicious behaviors towards the Auberon and Adeline. Olfina's charm and beauty could also be played as an ace in the meeting. Her kind personality could be used to enchant the other guards and make them spill their secret plans and whatnot.

Long story short, brawn, brains, and beauty were all found in Hadrian and his daughter. Surely, they would be the ones to be immediately picked.

Or not.

Auberon's suggestion immediately sent a chill down Rancor's spine. If Auberon blatantly suggested that he accompany them instead of Hadrian's daughter, then, it could only mean one thing. Immediately, his expertise in confections and beverages was out of the question. His combat skills, although decent, was nowhere near Olfina's. So, defense was also out of the possibilities (not to mention that Hadrian is already a force to be reckoned with). Could it be?

Does the king know of his ability?

Blast it. He knows, he knows. And, I tried so hard to hide it. Or, maybe, he has another reason. But, what could it be?! Damn it, I'd really say he knows about my covenant. Confound it all! Rancor cursed in his mind, all the time showing a warm smile at his lieges.

The disturbing question would be: how did Auberon know of his ability? He's been spying on him, hasn't he?! For someone so frail and isolated, he was as sharp as the knife he used to slice the meat apart.

To their credit, if ether Hadrian or Olifina were surprised that the queen took a quick moment for tea and cakes, nether showed it. As for the business of the letter, that was another matter all together, with Hadrians eyes narrowing slightly and Olifina's widening. Immediately the gears in Hadrian's head started churning for a reason as to why King Regnier would have such a meeting. It was perfectly normal for heads of state to meet together, that was no issue, it was the inclusion King Fairchild that had put the knight on edge. Still he remained quiet as the queen spoke her peace, his thoughts remaining in his head, in an ever churning state as new scenarios came and went. The news that they were allowed to bring guards did little to assuage his suspicions, but still he kept his mouth shut as the king began to address the assembled servants.

He brought up a few good points, such as the fact that it made little economic sense for Regnier to become embroiled in a conflict between Michael and Gabriel. It would cause undue stress and harm to his people, as well as send shockwaves throughout the whole of his kingdom's infrastructure. the knight also had to admit that the king had a point when it came to his recommendations, though for probably different reasons. Hadrian's being more inclined to not wanting to leave any member of the royal family alone, he trusted the guards for sure, but with Olifina here he could rest a bit easier.

Looking over at Rancor Hadrian sized him up. He had heard tell of the man's knife fighting skills, and it would be useful to have someone along that could treat a wound better than most. Also he would enjoy a freedom of movement that others would lack at the meeting, his station allowing him to flit between places. A solid choice as a companion.

"I.." Hadrian spoke as he was about to voice his agreement. But Olifina beat him to the punch, her face breaking into a wide grin as a very slight glow emanated from her, probably unintentional.

"Oh no need for recommendations, my lords. I volunteer to look after Serenity." her eyes danced from person to person, before resting on Rancor "Im only afraid my cooking wont be as up to snuff, but im sure ill find a work around."

Asmodeous frowned. He glanced over to the doorway as once more a quiet knock sounded and disrupted his thoughts. “Enter” he commanded coldly, his deep voice reverberating against the dark stone and filling the room as he placed the midnight black quill he had been using on the heavy stone desk he sat at. Moments later an imp that had been sat perched on the windowsill flew deftly over to the desk beside him picked the quill up in its two tiny claws and began to scrawl crude doodles on a stray piece of parchment whilst Asmodeous’s attention was drawn elsewhere.
A servant gingerly opened the doorway before walking into the room, his face betraying the fear that he felt at being in the presence of Asmodeous, the King having to resist allowing a smirk to spread across his dark handsome features. It had been mere days since he had reawakened and reinserted himself as ruler of the Kingdom, the previous King, Erebus had served to test the potency of his powers after such a long rest. Word had spread from there throughout the Kingdom, combined with the hideous screams that had echoed from the dark tower this had served to create quite an aura of intimidation and fear around the new monarch which he had to admit he was quite enjoying.

“Y-Your majesty” began the servant “Archbishop Eckert r-requests an audience, she wishes to make a report to your unholy self.” As he spoke he stumbled over his words before he bowed his head and gazed at the floor.

Asmodeus sat up slightly more at his words, suddenly taking an interest in what the servant was saying. As his thoughts turned to this Archbishop he had heard so much about he absently rubbed his chin with a large hand. Erebus between his squeals had tried to take credit for her work in damaging the seal, though Lady Vermina had later clarified to him that it was in truth this Archbishop and the Necromancer Aldritt who were really due the credit, though somewhat reluctantly so.

Drawing his attention back to the situation at hand a small clatter announced that the imp had knocked over the inkpot, spilling dark crimson ink across the desk and spoiling several of the contracts he had been in the process of drafting. The small horned creature leapt frantically into the air and was speeding back towards the window when Asmodeous casually pointed a finger towards it and a crackle of dark green energies arched from his fingertip towards it small body. The Imp screeched as its small almost feline body was enveloped with a creeping wave of necrotic green decay, soon its skin was eaten away and as its now lifeless husk crashed to the ground before there was soon little more than a rancid skeleton upon the stone. The King's smirk widened slightly, the imp had been skulking about the tower for most of the day and he had been wanting to remove its presence. He would not tolerate the company of such a lesser creature.

The servant wanted nothing more than to ask if he should return and tell the Archbishop anything, giving him an excuse to leave, but knew that to speak out of turn would likely be most unwise. Asmodeus stood suddenly and took a step closer to the cursed human, his expression once more returning to neutrality as he spoke softly now “Thank you Desmond, but tell me, how is your son?”

The servant’s expression dropped and worry once more dominated his features as he stumbled over his reply, surprised by the sudden change in topic “I-I-I uh… he is still most unwell your majesty.”

Asmodeus feigned a brief look of sympathy and nodded as he continued to approach the man. “Tell me Desomond, what would you do to save his life?”

The question hung in the air for a few moments before he continued “Would you be willing to trade another life for his? Several lives in fact?” The servant seemed to be now hanging off his every word and he gazed longingly at Asmodeus as the King continued to pace around him. “I can save your son Desmond, but the costs will be dear – you just have to find someone to pay them. Several someones to be precise. Do you think you could do that?”

Again the question hung in the air as the servant frantically considered the offer. It wasn’t exactly a secret that it was dangerous to enter into any arrangement with a demon, least of all the King of Lucifer, and how had he even known about his son. Desmond considered how he could do it, who he could do it to and several other factors, but not once did he consider why the King would have interest in offering him such a deal. Desmond didn’t know that Asmodeus had ordered Lady Vermina to investigate each and every servant in the castle to ensure they could be trusted. It wasn't that Desmond had been brought to his attention as a problem, rather the King would have hated to have missed such a delicious opportunity to strike a bargain after so long away from the Kingdom.
“I… can” said Desmond, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke “to save my boy I will do whatever you ask”. The servant sank to his knees and Asmodeus smiled gently as he returned to his desk and retrieved one of the few pieces of parchment that had survived the crimson spillage.

“Five lives seems appropriate for such a trade” said the king as he spent a few moments drafting out a contract, the words seeming to appear faster than they could have possibly been written by a human hand. Moments later a full document was being displayed before Desmond and all that remained was for him to put his mark to the parchment. Grimly and with little hesitation the servant removed a hidden blade from the wrist of his garments and sliced the surface of his palm before holding his clenched fist above the document. As several sanguine droplets landed they quickly began to move across the page of their own accord, forming into a signature as the pact was sealed. Moments later the contract was gone, Asmodeus now fully satisfied that one way or another several more souls would soon be his.

With that out of the way Asmodeus waved dismissively and his deep voice returning to its usual uncaring tone he said “Thank you Desmond, that will be all. I suggest you take the rest of the day to attempt to complete your task. Bring whomever you choose to the north gatehouse and Silas will do the collecting.”

The man bowed and began to leave the room, but paused as the King continued “oh, I should mention you only have until the seal is broken before you forfeit your families’ souls to me.”

Desmonds face dropped and his complexion paled as realisation of his error dawned upon him. A few moments later he rushed from the room as a low chuckle escaped the King. After stowing the rolled contract within his robes he too left the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor as he made his way to the audience chamber where the Archbishop would be waiting for him, caring little for his tardiness as he strode casually through the castle. After all if the King of Lucifer kept to others schedules instead of his own what kind of King was he.

With some force he pushed open the heavy double doors that lead into the chamber, his eyes flicking immediately to the young woman stood beside the Necromancer Aldritt, who he quickly recognised as unchanged by the many many years that had passed. This girl however (as indeed she appeared little more than a girl in his eyes) seemed to possess an aura of authority and power that he could not quite put his finger on, though it was clear enough as he drank her appearance in that this must be the Archbishop he had heard so much about. Once he was satisfied he had spent a suitable amount of time passing judgment on her appearance he moved into the room and seated himself upon the large obsidian throne that dominated much of the chamber. Choosing not to speak he simply lifted a hand in a gesture that seemed to simply command ‘speak’ as he carefully waited to see what they had to report to him.

---

Slarthanius looked up from where he leant against the rough low stone wall beneath a small apple tree, the castle that housed the King of Raphael towering high above the bustling city that surrounded it. His eyes darted from the keep across the walls that several stony faced guardsmen were patrolling as he lifted a yellowy-green apple to his lips and took a deep bite and began to chew happily. Moments later his face contorted in disgust as he spat the chunks of mashed apple out and looked at the curious fruit in his hands as if it had just told him something deeply offensive. Turning he looked down the road that lead towards the countryside and with a great heave he threw the apple with a staggering amount of precision, watching as it soared through the air majestically before directly hitting a distant peasant who had been working in a field squarely in the face. As the figure crumpled to the ground Slarthanius let a snigger escape his lips before he turned back towards the castle and resumed his silent vigil, allowing his mind to wander back to Sarre and Elia and what they might be doing at this moment. He knew he wasn't supposed to spend time wondering about and hoping that his humans were safe and well, but that pair was his favourite and he couldn't begin to think how sad it would make him if he knew he would never see them again or play music with them. Maybe he had been foolish to order them to infiltrate the keep so brazenly, after all if the rumours were true there were preparations for something big, and surely that would mean increased security. He would never forgive himself if his curiosity resulted in their deaths.

Suddenly he realised what he was thinking and pushed the thoughts away as he quickly assured himself that he would simply find new servants even more lovely and charming than that pair. He turned his thoughts instead towards the guildhouse he had been toying with purchasing, a large and somewhat regal building that had recently become vacant with the bankruptcy of the Vintners that had previously occupied it. He had found out that foul play had been involved after a rather rowdy evening with several of the members who he had found drowning their sorrow in the alley with their best vintages. A rival winemaker had recently moved into the city, and with their prior monopoly over the Kingdom they had been able to undercut their competition with cheep high quality wine, and after all who could complain with that. They had also told him the guildmaster was looking to sell the building for a not unreasonable price after he had refused the deal offered to him by those who had driven him out of business, his principles apparently being stronger than his desire for coin - a concept Slarthanius found most entertaining. In his many years he had gathered quite the little nest of wealth himself, his mind fondly going back over the last two-hundred and so years.

He sighed unable to decide if he should do so, but he did like the idea of owning a building where his Exulters could be based, though that too came with its downsides. Once more he forced himself to think about something else, this time he went back to pondering what it could be that was happening at the castle. He wondered if he should have not gone himself and tried to introduce himself as a bard and try to endear himself to the King and Princess, however the revelation there was something brewing had made him decide against that at least for the time being. No, it was better that Sarre and Elia took positions as maids and simply tired to learn what they could. He would wait and watch until one of them sent word to him, he trusted in their abilities.
A small sparrow flew into the tree above him and his eyes darted to it, the bird was short and plump and mostly brown. It hopped about and tweeted several times before it fixed its little black eyes on Slarthanius and started to chirp.

"Hello little friend" he cooed softly addressing the bird with an amused interest. The bird hopped from the tree onto the wall against which he was leaning as it continued to chirp and look around. It still amazed him that something so small and seemingly insignificant could soar through the air so free and unrestricted.

"Do you know what is happening at the castle little bird?" he asked it, musing at how simple it would be if he could become a bird and simply fly up to one of the windows and listen to all of the interesting conversations.

"Who are you talking to?" came the voice of a question from behind him, causing the sparrow to hop into the air and soar away as he gazed after it. Turning around Slarthanius smiled his charming smile as he met the gaze of one of the local children, a young boy he had seen quite a few times handing around the market with some others. He looked like he might be the son of the baker or some such menial job judging by his rather mediocre apparel and what Slarthanius considered quite an obvious question.

"I was asking that Sparrow something " he replied somewhat shortly, as if he thought it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Birds don't talk" retorted the boy in what he now thought was a clearly redundant statement.

"Of course they don't you glob" said Slarthanius, not in the mood for his usual banterous nature "Now go away" he added flatly before turning back to gaze at the castle, wishing the little bird was still there to distract him as he once more started to ponder his course of actions.

---

Carseith paced back and forth as he waited for his steward to return, his eyes occasionally darting towards the heavy door into the room that served as the only way in or out, ad more importantly to the heavy bolt that secured it. He ceased his pacing and instead slumped onto the lavish bed that dominated one corner of the room, his somewhat corpulent mass sagging onto the soft silken sheets. No sooner than he had there was a series of knocks at the door and he sprang to his feet as he made his way across the room. His hand went to the sword at his waist as the other drew back the peephole cover and he quickly gazed out. Stood before him was his steward Gintas, the cursed human glancing behind himself shiftily as he waited for his master to open the door.

"Finally" matter Carseith as he unbolted the door and pulled it open. The thin man entered the room and closed the door as the corpulent demon resumed his pacing and waited for him to report.

Gintas removed his hood and took a moment to bow his head and run a hand through his lanky gray hair before he spoke "My lord, I have done as you commanded and killed the broker who arranged this safehouse, the agents of the King shall not track us to this location."

"Good good" repeated Carseith before he asked "and the rest of the former King's allies?"
"Dead or in hiding" replied the servant as he began to rummage in the small satchel he carried "The Sleepless lord sent a letter that made it to my possession before he too went into hiding". Moments later he brandished and envelope which he held out to his master.

Caresith snatched the letter away and quickly tore it open with the nail on his little finger before he lifted the piece of parchment and gazed intently at it. The sheet was blank and his brow furrowed as he spat "What is the mea-" but his breath was cut short as he felt a cold sharp stab in his abdomen. Looking up from the letter he saw that Gintas had lunged forwards and was now pulled into an embrace with him, his arm now removing a long savage dagger which was covered in his blood.

" Gintas... but why?" gurgled Caresith as he stumbled backwards and tried to clasp his hands over the gaping hole and tried to cease the flow of blood. As he stared at his old friend his skin suddenly rippled and came alive snakelike liquidity engulfed his entire form before several moments later the calm and pale visage of Lady Vermina gazed at him with a satisfied expression covering her fair features.

"You did not really believe you could escape my masters ire did you?" came her voice, cold and piercing as she stalked over to his writhing form on the floor. Lord Caresith tried to scrabble backwards but his strength was already starting to leave him and she placed a foot squarely on his chest placing enough pressure to push the wind from his already struggling lungs.

"Please..." he squeaked all visage of power and prestige now totally driven from him, but she simply applied more pressure as a cold laugh escaped her.

She sneered "You are a pitiful worm Caresith, not fit to serve Asmodeus even if he desired it, which I assure you he does not. Your slave Gintas gave up your location after a few hours with me, of course I was impressed he lasted that long before I could put him out of his misery. Luckily for you the master has bid me finish my task with haste, so I cannot spare the time to show you exactly what I did to him."

Caresith made to open his mouth once more but she did not give him time to speak, in one swift movement she drew her sword and whirled it with speed and precision lopping the demon's head from his body before wiping the blade clean on his shirt and sheathing it. Turning she simply stalked from the room with a gentle smile remaining across her face. Oh how did she enjoy her work.

---

"Cynthia! Once you're done in here, we're going upstairs." The head maid Merinda was middle-aged and stern, though friendly, however she was also about getting things done in a neat and orderly fashion. Spots of grey were already entering her brown hair and hints of wrinkles on her face, but she was a well-toned, beautiful woman for her age, even if she didn't have time to be wooed by any men. She stood in the doorway to one of many quarters in the castle provided to servants and knights where a young woman was just finishing her making of the bed. "Hopefully Sir Rayne will actually help make time for you today," she then grumbled, exiting out of the doorway and causing the young woman to pause for a moment and glance her way. A small smile crossed her lips as she thought about how amusing and different the head maid truly was to everything she had experienced growing up - she was still strict, which was something Cynthia was used to, but the kindness had both been alien and warming at the same time. If anything, Merinda sometimes scolded her for not accepting friendliness very well.

Quickly and with an efficiency that wasn't oft seen within the walls, she finished the bed and quickly hopped outside, attending to her orders quickly. She pursed her lips slightly, trying to remind herself they weren't orders in the same way as she had grown up with, another thing that Merinda scolded her for. "Ready, miss.." she said softly as she closed the door behind her, looking over at Merinda as the older woman smiled, just slightly. A moment passed between the two before Cynthia finally said, "did I do something?"

Merinda waved her hand with a scoff before gesturing the young woman to follow her. "Stop that nonsense, girl. If you did things wrong as often as you thought, then you wouldn't be becoming Princess Regnier's personal servant." It was a bit harsh, but the head maid was entirely in the right on this one. Cynthia had been unusually and surprisingly efficient and quick about everything she had been asked to do - well, except cooking. Cynthia had burned food far more than once and was practically banned from the kitchen all together, but everything else from cleaning to fetching to service, was spot on almost all the time. Merinda had recognized this and brought her before Sir Rayne for approval, who seemed extremely stubborn about the idea, but eventually ran it by the princess. At least, this is what Cynthia had heard, and before she knew it - she was accepted.

As they walked the corridors towards the front gates, Cynthia recalled the first moment she ran into the angel. To be honest she was just looking for a way to survive, for a way to not be so alone anymore, but sensing his presence scared her to death. She was scared she'd be rejected and hunted down, but instead she was given an extremely disapproving glare - he even argued about her being hired, but Merinda had been so insistent, that it somehow made him back down. To this day, she couldn't understand it and while he always looked at her with complete distrust, he mostly left her alone. It was worse when she was suggested as a lady-in-waiting and he argued as much as possible but again, the older woman's stubbornness and logic won the fight that day and he promised to asked the princess. Cynthia could only imagine how that conversation went - but that did beg the question. Did the royal family know he was an angel? If not, why would he hide and be so intent on it? Was he also afraid of being rejected in some way? But if they knew, then they knew she was a demon. Did that mean they accepted her anyways? It was all very interesting to ponder, but at the end of the day - she was just trying to survive and not be alone.

Before long, they were at the front gates and Merinda was waving Picard down in a curt manner. She was bit a blunt, that was for sure, but her methods got the job done and Cynthia had learned that everyone just accepted her for being who she was. Certainly, as rude as Merinda could come across as, she had a heart of gold. Cynthia watched as Bishop Cain climbed the stairs up towards one of the studies. "Sir Rayne!" Merinda yelled, making sure to get his absolute attention. "Miss Cynthia is ready as soon as her majesty is willing to accept her... I understand there's an important meeting, so we'll simply wait down here, but will you please let her know?" It was as much of a request as it was forceful. Merinda was a tad peeved by Picard's reluctance and to be frank, the head maid had other things to do as well.