FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Distractions of Affection

Part 3

For a-lycotonum

By Draconicon

With the twins properly situated and resting - specifically, 'resting' in enchanted sleep that would keep them in one place so he could find them quickly when he was ready - Gralon locked the door of the second sitting room and made his way back to the ritual chamber. The servants had nothing to say to him, save to offer him some perfumed water if he wished to bathe. He turned them down every time, shaking his head as he continued his journey back to the ritual chamber.

After securing the door, he began the process of a different conjuration. What had been a simple spell to create a communication portal between him and the lower planes became something else.

For all that he had made a deal with Dispater, allowing the Devil - or, as he occasionally had to remind himself, Archdevil - to profit from his efforts, he had clearly overstepped a few bounds. There were only so many things that a creature of that power would accept as slights, and he might have been pushing his luck with delays and interruptions of late. Considering that he had a few favors to ask, he wanted to make sure that there were no more of those, and more, that he was able to make good on anything that he had done in the past.

So, the circles that were laid in salt, silver, and sulfur were designed not to summon the Archdevil to him, but rather to send him to hell. Or at least, to Dispater's particular circle of it.

Gralon took his time to make sure that he had the circle completely right before stepping back and looking at it again. He walked its bounds, he checked every possible way that it could go wrong with a mis-cast, and then did it again, and again.

It wasn't stalling. It might have been paranoia, but it wasn't stalling. Even the most powerful casters - even the dragons - were keen on ensuring that any contact that they had with the lower planes was done as much as possible on their own terms. The last thing that he needed was to leave it even vaguely open to interpretation on the other side, or leave out the way back, or allow someone else in.

Once he was completely satisfied that the circle was correct, Gralon took a deep breath, then let loose his magic. The fires of his power ran through the laid-down circle, turning it from cool to hot in a matter of instants. The many-colored lines turned to a rainbow of fire for a split second, then deepened to the sharpest crimson before turning completely black.

In the center, that black deepened into something that was not merely repulsive to the light, but something that sucked it in, something that consumed anything that came near. The gray stones near it turned black as it had been, and that which had been black turned something darker still, something that almost didn't seem to exist to mortal eyes. Even his glowing, informed gaze could barely see it, but it was there: the door to the worlds below.

He stepped through, his robes instantly crushed against him by the oppressive heat, the skies of fire, and the smoke that rose from every pore of the burning world. The aasimar felt the crushing hate of the realm for his kind, and he slowly folded his arms against his chest, making sure not to show how much it affected him.

Having emerged from the agreed-upon portal on the balcony adjacent to Dispater's throne room - a location that he knew was a sign of trust from an Archdevil that trusted few enough - he waited for the greater force of evil to finish what he was doing. It would be foolish to think that the Archdevil didn't know that he was here; the powers that ruled these lower realms knew everything that happened within them, near enough. Gralon leaned against the railing, instead, looking down on the world below.

As the Archdevil and lord of cities, prisons, and rulership, the domain of Dispater reflected the psyche of one that was obsessed with the ordering and domination of the natural landscape. The great city that he lived in was nothing less than a creation of grids, walls, and chains, arranged as squares and hexes connecting one section of the hellish city to the next. Each link was another piece of the greater chain that tamed this part of the multiverse, allowing the city to exist in a place that wanted nothing less than its total destruction.

Further down, he saw the souls that lived among the devils, mostly slaves, but some less so than others. They were bound here by greater rules than any that were set down by the celestial realms, and it was one of the few things that he approved of. The higher realms believed that there was a chance that others might change, that they could, perchance, be allowed to fight against their nature.

Gralon had learned, long ago, that such changes were nearly impossible. To have faith without contingencies was to invite disaster.

He wondered if his Deva was still down there. Ever since he'd traded it out for the devil that accompanied him through his daily life, he knew that it had been bound down here, somewhere. Whether Dispater kept it or had traded it on, he didn't know, but he knew that it was no longer in a place where he could find it. Gralon asked himself if he would do anything to save it if he could.

It didn't take long to decide that the answer was no. He needed this deal, and Dispater had been the most reasonable of the different Archdevils at the time. Trading one being for the capability to enter the lower planes and having the backing of someone that would enforce the various contracts that he set up was the deal of a lifetime. It was the only way that he could think of to get what he wanted.

He leaned against the railing still further, looking at the many soul pits that were gathered just outside the walls. Those that died or were sentenced here filled the pits, providing much of the energy that kept the great city of the plane from collapsing. They were all but pure arcane energy these days, something that forced back the greater auras of the other Archdevils and allowed Dispater to continue ruling without interference. As far as Gralon knew, most of the others weren't that interested in their sibling Archdevil's lands, but there was always the possibility of that changing.

Gralon shook his head, about to stand up and make his way around the railing when the door behind him finally creaked open. The aasimar felt the presence of the greater devil stepping through, refusing to turn and show how much it still unsettled him.

The celestial aasimar were used to the presence of the divine. They were used to the pleasure and the bliss and the gentleness of their authority. They were trained to fight demons, to instill the fear of law and order and goodness into them.

They were not trained for the aura of devils. Even this late in the game, Gralon still felt the pressure that the Archdevil exerted on reality itself. The railing under his hands bent in the direction of the great fiend behind him, and he had to hold tight to it to keep from feeling himself being turned back to him, as well. It was worse than the temples to the minor gods in Absalom; this was the direct power of one of the great fiends of the universe.

"Gralon. I didn't think that you'd actually come tonight," the overly charming voice of Dispater whispered in his ears. Clawed fingers, so human until they curled, rested on his shoulders, and he was reminded just how tall the other man actually was. He loomed over everything but the other Archdevils, and he would wager that even they added to their heights to keep that from happening. "What is the occasion?"

"I wanted to apologize," he said, the words coming through without hardship. If anything, he had to slow them down. "You've had to tolerate mistakes from me several times of late. That is not the relationship that I want between us."

"Nor what I would wish between us."

"You have my undivided attention for the next hour."

"Excellent."

The fingers on his shoulders curled again, and he tensed despite his best wishes. The agreement between them ensured that he had safety while he was here in the lower planes, while the fires of Hell crackled up and around him. He knew that, he'd guaranteed that, but that didn't mean that the curled claws of the Archdevil didn't intimidate him.

"Come. We will take tea."

"Yes...tea."

#

It was blood tea, of course, strained through the strands of the Ancient Veil until the tea was more gas than liquid, the fumes rolling around like currents of smoke stained red. He could hear the screams of the victim through the smoke, and knew that to taste it would be akin to rolling brambles across the tongue. Yet, to do so would also grant one power over the soul that had been milked of its blood, giving one domination of it.

He sipped at it, dabbing his lips from time to time to keep the red from seeping out. The taste was not pleasant.

"We were talking of our plans before we were so rudely interrupted," Dispater said, crossing one leg over the other, the long robe of red with its golden trim dragging with a hiss and a squeal across the metal floor. "You said that you had...news?"

"Updates, more accurately," Gralon said, shaking his head as he lowered his cup to the table. It was normal, thankfully, or as normal as things were in the realms of the Archdevils. No great heap of bones or flesh or tissue, merely twisted metal that was so exquisitely tortured that the merest touch drew the shriek of screaming blades from it. "The contracts are flowing freely. Absalom will soon be under our control."

Our. The word came so smoothly these days, though he had little doubt that Dispater was more than willing to throw him away once ownership of the greatest city on the Material Plane fell to them. The Archdevil was never one to shy from the greater profit, contract or not, and Gralon had been swift to note that the peace agreement between them would only last so long as they were both pursuing their goal. Once it was attained...

Well, that was when things would get interesting. Ignoring the rest of his tea, he continued.

"I would estimate that we'll be able to take more active steps towards contracting and converting once we have the Arcanamirium on our side. Several professors have been encouraged to join me, but -"

"But? I don't think that 'buts' count as good news, Lord Brundir."

Ignoring the slightly teasing tone of the Archdevil, he set leaned back and crossed his arms. He needed to be serious. Focused. This was where he proved his worth, and why he deserved the favors he was given.

"But they are aware of the dangers of letting anything supernatural too near their school, due to an incident involving a certain young man. The one I was telling you about?"

"Ah, yes, the Leontina."

"You were interested when I mentioned his name before."

"I was, indeed. And Gralon, I have to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Are your intentions honorable?"

"Of all the questions that I expected you to ask, it wasn't that one."

Dispater chuckled, shifting out the teapot for another, one still steaming with the crying souls that were gradually disintegrating into their brew. He started to pour for the aasimar, only for Gralon to decline. He shrugged and poured for himself, instead.

"Gralon, Gralon. Let me put it this way. I am aware of your various proclivities. They are little more than dalliances, and thus, I have no interest in them. They are little more than a way to spend your seed and energy so that you don't go crazy. Completely understandable, though under a different demon's authority than mine.

"However, when it comes to the matters of the infernal heart...now, that is something that does involve me. After all, in a relationship, one must be ruled by the other, and in such a way that it ensures that the laws of the relationship are kept."

"What's your point?" Gralon asked.

"My point is, if you are pursuing this Leontina boy, I would hope that you're doing it for the right reasons. After all, for all that his bloodline is certainly...interesting, it doesn't mean that you are looking to be engaged with someone of your station. The Leontinas might have matched you, once, but they've certainly fallen from grace since."

"Is that so?"

"Surely, you know who they are?"

"I'm afraid that you have more knowledge than me with this one."

That was putting it mildly. Gralon had little knowledge of anything regarding Vitus's past, but the fact that it was something that Dispater not only knew, but felt was important, might have been worth knowing during the attempted conversion before. Some small part of him wanted to rip the fiend's head off for keeping it from him in the past, but then again, he had never asked.

Dispater chuckled, the great looming form of the Archdevil filling the room with a booming thunder rather than the genteel laugh that he doubtlessly convinced himself that he had. Gralon waited for him to finish before shaking his head.

"I assume that we'll get to that."

"In good time, my Lord Brundir. But first, are you honorable with this?"

"In what way?"

"Is this boy another dalliance, or are you seeking him for something more?"

"And if I am?"

"Then I would hope that you are pursuing him with all the courage and authority that you have been given. I would hate to think that you are holding back in making him your own, particularly with the resources that you've used on him already...and lost in his little snit that he's currently throwing."

Again, something that was putting it mildly. Vitus had run off at the climax of a ritual that would have bound him permanently to the aasimar's service...and more. True, they still had the sheer power of the other elementals and outsiders that had been bound to mortal bodies, and they had more than sufficient tools to accomplish most of their goals, but that didn't mean anything when it came down to the matters of the heart.

He'd wanted Vitus, but Vitus didn't want him. And now, he was away from the city, out of immediate reach, and Gralon couldn't do anything about it but hope that one of his agents actually found the young hellhound.

He felt wretched over it. Not because of doing something wrong, but because he had pushed too hard, too fast.

"I plan to take him back," he eventually said. "And when I do, I don't plan to let him slip the leash again."

"That's what I want to hear. And you will treat him properly? Ensure that he knows his place - under you, of course - and what it means when he disobeys?"

"He will be properly educated."

"Good. I could ask for nothing more. After all, Gralon, my Lord Brundir, I would like to see you happy. It is in my nature to wish to see a relationship flourish."

That was quite possibly true. He knew that the devils were often as complicated as the demons, and sometimes more so. With Dispater's domains being ways of dominating others through slavery and with control of the environment around oneself, he could completely believe that the greater lord was eager to see someone else fall to slavery.

However, that did not address his immediate problem.

"What do you know about the Leontinas, then?" he asked, crossing one leg over the other. "If I'm to take him properly -"

"All in good time," Dispater said. "If needed, we can talk about that another time."

Which in all likelihood meant that they were going to talk about something else for the rest of his time in the lower planes. It was unfortunate, considering that his curiosity had been awakened, but it could be worse.

"Very well. What can I tell you?"

"You tell me how the city is developing, and I'll tell you about the doings of my dear Mel."

"Melchiresa is still involved, then?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "I thought you said -"

"I had assumed that Erastil and his followers would deal with her little schemes in the north, but it seems that she's been craftier than usual, the little hunter." The Archdevil chuckled to himself, rolling his hand. "She has been ever cunning, but more so since she slipped my leash..."

One moment, the Archdevil's hand was empty. The next, a collar hung from it, one that might have been worn by a mortal before it was ripped and stretched by a feral neck. From the front dangled a tag that was long-since faded, barely retaining a depression that might have once been a name.

Gralon let nothing show on his face, merely storing the information away. If that had been Melchiresa's collar - and more than once, Dispater had implied that the Archdevil had been in a relationship with the powerful Demon Lord before her transition - then there was something to be used there. But not here. Not now.

"The city, my Lord Brundir?"

He nodded, giving his report. There was little to be said, as a matter of fact, but he was able to spin it to something vaguely more interesting. A majority of the greater temples were in their hands, either through the direct control of a high priest or priestess that they had filled with an outsider, or through the regency of a lesser priest that had been brought into the fold while the true leader was otherwise incapacitated. The docks were almost entirely theirs, with only a few piers overseen by others. The island could be locked down with ease, save for one little problem.

The Arcanamirium was not yet theirs, and Gralon was honest about his concerns. The academy had long been a thorn in the side of anything supernatural or magical that threatened the city. They had been on alert ever since the ritual, and while there was no outright war in the city, the magicians on the other side of the academy's high walls had been notoriously silent ever since. No students had been let out, and very few visitors had been let in.

Dispater tapped his chin.

"I imagine that they will be calling my kind up, eventually," he admitted. "They know not to rely on but one source."

"Will your devils lie?"

"Up to a point. The Arcanamirium knows how to construct spells to prevent it, and some will know that my people are lying, even when they're doing their best. They might not know the truth, but they'll know that we lied."

"..."

"Of course, they won't want to believe that the great Gralon Brundir is working against them, so they might not give it any credence...but do you really want to risk that?"

The clear answer was 'no,' which meant that he had to do something about the Arcanamirium sooner than later. They had always been something that worried him, but now that he was aware that the devils wouldn't lie for him, he knew that they had less time than he thought.

"You are remarkably calm with this setback, Dispater."

"I have faith in you."

"And you know that if I fail, nothing will happen to you."

"Oh, things will happen. I lose a skilled agent in the city, and I will have to start my own operations from the ground up once more...but I lose less than you do."

Doubtless why the Archdevil was allowing him as much freedom as he was. A pity and a pain.

"Shall I update you on greater news throughout the world, my Lord Brundir?"

"If you would."

"The church of Erastil is on the move."

"That is...uncharacteristic of them. They haven't been involved in anything other than healing missions for some time."

"Times have changed. Erastil is ascended."

"He what?"

"Oh, calm yourself. He has a target, for now, and a new high priest that will be more than happy to hunt it," the Archdevil said, looking down at his claws with a small chuckle. "Indeed, I imagine that Erastil will be far more focused on purifying his own lands than anything else for some years to come."

"...What happened?"

"Oh, a Primal Point was activated, and the mortal body that was resting there was finally brought to a purer, celestial form."

"My gods..."

"Careful, my Lord Brundir. There are no gods that have a stronger claim on you now than I. Don't make me feel jealous of my property."

"I understand. Don't worry; I don't pray to them."

He didn't pray to anything. Not anymore.

But the thought of a god truly ascended was a worrying one. If Erastil had gone from his former power to something greater, eliminating the restraints of his mortal form to become something truly celestial, that meant that not only had he grown stronger, but he had been purified, as well, losing most of the mortal restraints that held him back. There would be a great deal of purging during the coming years, indeed, and if he ever turned his gaze south, there would be a great deal for him to be concerned about, particularly if that god looked to cross the sea to Absalom.

But that was less concerning than another piece of information, one that he had yet to confirm. He folded his hands over his lap.

"What triggered this?"

"A young woman. One of Melchiresa's pups, as far as I can tell."

"...One of her pups? A corrupted maiden?"

"Yes, indeed. One of Erastil's priests, right up to the point where she threw it all away for the pleasures of the were-boars up there." Dispater shook his head. "I haven't been able to track her past yet; the shade of the Demon Lord is strong over her, much like over that young Vitus of yours. I imagine that they're both tools that the good bitch plans to use for her own ends."

And it was a moment where he knew that he had greater information than the Archdevil, for once. Dispater had revealed multiple times that he was often unaware of what happened within the city of Absalom, but this revealed something more: the master of cities and prisons was blind to the events of Absalom, completely, or he would know about Hazel and the relationship that she'd had with Vitus.

He kept it from his face, shaking his head in sympathetic annoyance with the Archdevil. If his deceit had been caught, there was no sign of it on the other's face, and they continued, talking on as if there was nothing else but the meager annoyance of being blocked by a greater demon.

As they talked of Cheliax and the little rumors that were coming down the grapevine to Dispater - including a few rumors of what may or may not have been Vitus's appearance in Westcrown - Gralon was already putting together new plans. He had to find out why Dispater's vision was blocked in the greatest city in the world, a place where the Archdevil should have had clearer vision than any, and once he found out how, he needed to find out what would fix it.

And then, once he knew that, he would have to make a decision: whether to fix it for his patron...or to hold that solution hostage for greater terms. Either way, it would be a difficult decision to make.

Until then, he absorbed the information that Dispater had for him. Gralon had many spies of his own, but the Archdevil was far better informed than he was of the distant regions of the world, and he could use that. He could use it to shift the powers of the temples, to set his defenses against the future, and...

And find Vitus. He would find Vitus again.

Of course, there was only so long that any mortal, even one such as him, could remain in the lower planes. He could feel the power of corruption and Hell pressing against his soul after several hours, and he stood up as he cleared his throat.

"I should be on my way."

"And I should return to ruling my people." Dispater nodded. "Remember what you have to do."

"Vitus will remember what domination means."

"Good. Show your power, and he will submit."

It would take more than that, but it would be a start. He bowed to the Archdevil and made his way from the table. It disappeared in a plume of smoke and wheezing souls, the smoky ghosts disappearing as Dispater opened his mouth. The aasimar chose not to watch; he had seen it once, and that was enough.

As he made his way to the balcony, he heard a familiar cry. Gralon paused, looking to the ceiling of the great hall. There, hanging from the chandelier, was the body of his Deva. It was shackled with spikes of blood and unholy acids, casting an ever-more corrupted light on the throne room of the Archdevil. He turned his eyes back to Dispater, who smiled with more fangs than he had shown through their conversation.

"Even something good may become useful."

"Indeed."

"Don't make me teach you the same lesson."

"You won't."

#

Returning through the portal, he immediately knew that time had passed. The air in the ritual room had become stale, but the door was still closed tight, ensuring that there was nothing that had disturbed it or looked at something that they shouldn't have. Gralon breathed in the still air, taking some comfort in it that was lacking in the realms below.

He walked out of the underground, pausing once he was outside. He shifted his hooves as he looked up at the night sky, staring at the constellations.

You gods that live above...you see this. You know what has happened to this world. You know what shakes it and disturbs it. And you do nothing.

There were rules. There had always been rules. The gods did not interfere with mortals lest they shatter the world when one struck against another, much like great wizards did not fight each other openly, lest the powers of wish spells and greater things shatter the land around them and ruin that which they wanted to take. Once you reached a certain level of power, all war had to be fought by proxy.

The rules, however, did not dictate that those that ran the proxies had to be so removed and selfish. A chess-master did not need to ignore their pawns between games.

Gralon shook his head. The number of people that had been lost in the great wars to safeguard the world from demons, dark gods, and grasping devils was beyond count. Humans, elves, dwarves, orcs, and more were more than willing to kill each other without outside means, but at least when they fought each other, there were warriors and champions that were able to hold sway for a time.

When an outsider tried, however...

The aasimar shook his head. The world was chaotic, disorganized, without order. There was nothing that could be done going through the proper channels, so he would create them. This chaos would stop. This madness would stop.

Everything would stop.

"Soon," he muttered, slowly relaxing his hands so that they were no longer clenched in painful fists. "Soon."

It was time. He had his agents, and he would use them. Time to confirm what he suspected. Time to find out more about Vitus's past, and see what he could find out about what kept Dispater's eyes off the city.

It didn't take long to reach the second sitting room, and he opened the locks with ease. Unsurprisingly, only Mika was asleep on the floor.

"You are awake earlier than expected," Graon said, shutting the door behind him.

"Your magic doesn't affect me as much as her."

"Clearly."

"What do you want? To fuck with me some more?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I'm sending you to break something."

"...You have my attention."

"The Arcanamirium."

"..."

"I do not hear any complaints," Gralon said, cocking his head to the side. "The last time I mentioned something of any difficulty, you were the first to say why it wasn't going to be possible."

"I have my reasons."

"Is that so?"

It would be interesting to find out what those reasons were, but considering the time limit that he was on, he would have to trust Sivar. If nothing else, the were-rat would be able to take care of himself behind enemy lines. The monster inside him would make him far more powerful than most mages would dare consider facing on their own, and if they made the mistake of underestimating him...well, that would only lead to their demise.

And, on the off-chance that they happened to win? Well, he was unique enough that they would keep him around for study, which would give Gralon the chance to find him and retrieve him before anything too bad happened.

Mika groaned, and the were-rat knelt down to help her up. Gralon knew that it wasn't out of any sibling tenderness; as far as he knew, there was no knowledge of the concept in Sivar's head. No, this was theater, pure and simple.

But it was useful. Mika would see it as something more, and that would keep her loyal to her brother, caring about his wellbeing, which gave the aasimar one more lever to pull to keep them doing what he commanded.

As soon as the female was on her feet, she looked at him and immediately smiled. He nodded.

"I have need of materials from the Arcanamirium," he said.

"What do you need, Master?"

"I need the files of a certain incident," Gralon said, taking a seat and folding one leg over the other. He was more tired than he realized, the room spinning slightly around him from the strain of heading to the lower planes and returning. The conversations with Dispater always took more than he expected out of him. "There was an attempted takeover of the Arcanamirium that involved a Demon Lord, a priestess of Erastil, and a young sorcerer that has since gone missing."

"Sounds like the start of a bad joke," Sivar said.

"Perhaps. But I want that information."

"And...how shall we present our request, master?" Mika asked.

"Any way you want. So long as the truth isn't told."

It was risky, offering them this freedom. He had worked with the idea that they were better off caged...but the devils and demons thought that about mortals, as well. This was their chance to prove that the outsiders were wrong about mortals, that there was something useful in offering them tokens of independence.

It's the last time that I'll offer them this...

And if they screwed it up...he would take that freedom away. They would be nothing but collared agents, put to work where they belonged. No more freedom, no more free will, no more nothing. They would be drones.

And if need be, so would the rest of the world. He had offered them patience for years. Now, it was time for them to prove they were worth it.

The End

Summary: Gralon goes to hell to talk to his sponsor.

Tags: No Sex, Aasimar, Devil, Archdevil, Dispater, Fantasy, Series, Negotiations, Updates, Hellish Bargain,