It had been some time since Fenn and Lily had returned to the Citadel and reported the results of their outing to the Charred Council. Once they had explained themselves to the Council’s satisfaction, the two had been given leave to rest until the next mission, and Lily had given him permission to leave her side.

Eventually, Fenn had found his way to the Citadel’s core, the heart of glass that spread heat and light throughout the entire structure. The dog had settled against one of the room’s walls, his eyes closed and his ponderous breaths matching the beating of the giant heart. The blood and gore he had collected in the battle against the angels was absent, the only hints of their previous presence a multitude of scabbing cuts, the taste of blood in his mouth, and the scent of burnt meat that clung to him. Still, the small, swaying motions of his tail and the perked ear twitching in rhythm with the core’s pulsing betrayed the beast’s wakefulness.

Lacking foes to combat, and left to his own devices by his current Warleader, there was little more for Fenn to do than to rest and think. Indeed, ever since the Imp had thrown her – and by extension his – lot in with the Council, he had found himself something to puzzle over. There was a kind of uneasiness that climbed up his spine whenever his thoughts turned to the faces on the stone.

The role they professed to play, the idea of preserving a balance, mystified him. Just what did ‘balance’ mean? Why bother preserving it? What did the Charred Council get out of it? 

A thought that flitted through his mind the moment he learned of the Council’s involvement was that the breaking of the Seals might come as an opportunity to them. Certainly, their attitudes to the Seals of the Apocalypse felt strange to Fenn. Up until he learned that one of the objectives given to their group was to locate the Seals, the dog had been certain the Council itself had been responsible for their creation. The fact that their location was unknown to them casted doubt on the idea. Moreover, the fact that their location had not been recorded by them prior to the breaking of the first Seal indicated a certain… indifference. As though the Endwar was not quite as inimical to their balance as he had believed, or as though the Council had purposefully turned a blind eye to those seeking their destruction. The alternatives were that the council was arrogant to the point of stupidity, or humble enough to believe their knowledge of the Seal’s locations could be abused by another party.

A rumbling chuckle escaped him. Both thoughts were absurd.

He paused to consider the mission he had just returned from. While he welcomed the chance to exert himself, he had to wonder what was the point of disrupting the operations of angels or demons. By eliminating angel leaders, they had merely succeeded in throwing Heaven’s operation in Vigrid into disarray. Angel foot soldiers remained in the city with minimal direction, left to weather the hordes of demons that came for the city. Both sides were bound to suffer greatly. Perhaps that was the point. Yet the continued fighting was bound to take its toll on the settlers of such cities. It seemed a stalemate between the realms was of larger importance to the Council’s balance than the survival of the Third Realm’s inhabitants.

Or perhaps he was reading too much into things, and this had merely been a test of his and the Imp’s ability. 

He already suspected that the Council held ulterior motives aiming beyond the quelling of the Apocalypse for recruiting them. It had already been mentioned before, that the greatest warriors the Council could field would not take to Earth unless they aimed to raze it. The recruitment of independent parties was convenient and justified in that it enabled them to act at a time of crisis by bypassing any laws they had wrought to limit outsider’s interaction with the human realm. That said, even beyond the prevention of the Apocalypse, it would ensure the Council counted with agents that could act with impunity on their behalf on each of the three realms. The Halfling pup brought before the Council seemed like the most obvious candidate for such a role. She had not been among the group inside the cavern – he would have recognized her scent had that been the case – meaning she must have been sought out independently. She held enough potential to catch the Council’s eyes, held the parentage to exist in two realms, and was young enough to be molded to another’s needs. An excellent tool, if handled correctly.

A familiar scent brought him out of his musings. “Who let the dog inside?” asked a snide, reedy voice. “You’ll track dirt all over the carpets. Shoo, mutt!”

From his prone position, Fenn lashed out with one of his arms, swinging it towards the source of the irksome chatter, but the limb found no resistance. He opened his eyes and began to rise, glaring at the Watcher that had first brought him to this Citadel. The skeletal creature floated up as Fenn stood on four legs, keeping itself hovering in such a way that Fenn needed to crane his neck upwards to regard it.

“You think to harm me? A loyal servant of the Charred Council?” The thing let out one of its high pitched giggles. “You should be punished! Hanged, drawn and quartered, then have what remains sent to the cooks!” it proclaimed, spindly fingers clutching and loosening in a spider’s dance, before it glanced away, brow furrowing. “Is Hellhound meat edible for humans? Bah, such trifling concerns should not stand in the way of culinary experimentation.”

The dog grunted at the babbling specter. “I suspect the day I can crush the life from your bones I will be doing your masters a service.”

“Ah, the pup is eager to please,” it crooned, “but where was this zeal in your outing? News spread quickly among servants. An Archangel and a ranking demon, both utterly ignored, left to their own devices! What good are you, if you won’t throw your life away to bleed the enemies of the Council?”

Fenn let out a low growl. How he ached for a chance to grind the goading specter into dust, but he knew well enough, that his blows would only pass through it. ‘Protected’ they claimed to be. “Your masters are fortunate,” he spat acidly, “to have a servant who knows their will better than them.”

The thing’s eyes narrowed, and Fenn had the distinct impression that the glowing orbs were glancing left to right as though to confirm there were no prying ears. “I would never make such a bold claim,” it retorted quickly, in a louder voice than strictly necessary. “I am a but a humble servant, ever ready to serve my Master,” it hissed venomously, beginning to lower itself to the ground. “Something an oversized [i]pet[/i] must understand well.”

With that final insult, the Watcher sank into the ground, leaving the scowling Hellhound to glare at an empty room. After a moment, Fenn turned and began to walk towards the closest door, intent on leaving the barest hint of the vile creature’s scent behind.