The Devil's Smile Chapter Six

Chapter Six: The Royal Line of the Demon King



Deep in the depths of hell, surrounded by rivers of blood, was the Palace of the Demon Kings. Created millenia past by the very first Demon King, it remained still as a monument to the power and the ability of the royal line.

Within, the current Demon King Beleth considered the news.



"Tell me again," he ordered softly, the thoughts running through his head dark and grim. He felt a chill of foreboding as Marchosias flashed him her wicked grin.



"Your dear little bastard nephew was waiting out in the Mirror Valley for someone. He never said as much, but he was quite worried to see me. He's certainly up to something."

"And you think he's meeting someone." It wasn't a question. In fact, it made sense. Marchosias slid down the setee and stared up at the ceiling.



"Certainly someone. I'm inclined to think the worst of him. He can cause a great deal of trouble if he gets himself some powerful friends." Beleth's gaze slid up to her.

"And what about Pen? What is he up to?" Penemuel, the demon guardian of the Mirror Valley. It would be hard to get anything past him, or at least so Beleth had at one point believed. It had been a mistake to assign his cousin to the Mirror Valley. At the time Penemuel had been the only one he could trust. It had made sense. He had entrusted the Mirror Valley, the most important thing he had, to his cousin, but that wasn't the way Penemuel saw it. Penemuel thought of his duty as an exile, and Beleth understood that. It had changed Pen, in ways that Beleth could hardly have imagined. The days of their youths were long gone.



"You've got that thunderous and melancholy look on your face again," Marchosias stated from her seat, having flipped about the see him better. She had a pondering look, like a predator pinning down weaknesses in her prey. Beleth shot her a glare.

"Like it matters to you. You're the minion. You do as you're told." He had inherited her from his father, but Marchosias was as ancient as his line. His old minion had not made an appearance for centuries. Beleth and Marchosias were an ill match. He hated the part of him that reached out to her when he needed something. He hated her. And she...she thought he was weak, and she hated him too.

She rose to her feet to stalk towards him, up onto the dais and glaring at him.



"Now listen to me," she spat, her eyes flashing. "When you're being a pathetic weakling, you make us all look like pathetic weaklings. Shape up, Beleth, or I'll be done with you." He simply raised an eyebrow.

"Pen doesn't summon you, I know that much. And whether I like it or not, Zepar is my heir, and if he can claim the title the next Demon King. And he cannot summon you either. If you kill me, you kill yourself." She gritted her teeth.

"How dare you threaten me," she hissed. He slowly rose.



"If you ever," he murmured, leaning in, "cross me again, Marchosias. I shall be the one killing you." A light smile flickered on her lips.

"Better," she hissed. He sighed.

"I want to know who he is meeting. Keep an eye on them. I want to know the moment something happens." She gave him another dark look, then turned away and shook her head.

"Fine. I will. But if I don't like it, I'll kill in the Mirror Valley, and fuck your truce, Beleth." Then she stepped down off the dais and stalked off towards the chamber steps. Even when she was gone the atmosphere was oppressive, but it was not necessarily her. Beleth knew this story, and he knew how it ended. He pursed his lips grimly. He had to put a stop to it at all costs, or he could no longer call himself the Demon King, and that was a title that had cost him too much to vanish now.

***



It was dawn.



And he was still alone.

***



Ansiel paused on the steps to stare at the girl on the table before his gaze slid slowly up to Penemuel.

"What's Ronwe doing here?" Ronwe was his summons. She and Penemuel were not on good terms, so she was rarely about. Penemuel preferred his solitude to her company, and he was not known to be a solitary person. For her own part, Ronwe was more like him than she knew. While Pen struggled to be as childish as he could in the aftermath of war, Ronwe tried to make up for her younger appearance by acting like the mature check to his wild behaviours. Their only interactions involved butting heads. The only time he had ever seen them work hand in hand was in battles, when situations demanded them to work as a single unit. Then, they were inseparable.



"Take a seat, Ansiel. Ronwe's here because Marchosias has been sighted in the Mirror Valley." Ansiel did take a seat, staring.

"The Queen of Hell?"

"Even so." It was a self-fashioned title, but Marchosias had a reputation as legendary as the first Demon King. Everyone knew the Queen of Hell was Marchosias the minion who equaled a high level demon in power, and who surpassed everyone in cruelty. She served Beleth, the demon king, Penemuel's cousin. Ronwe, Pen's summoned minion, was from the same ether.



"What was she doing here?" Ansiel asked quietly, concern on his face. Marchosias was a demon, technically allowed in the Mirror Valley, but she was dangerous, and she had no known reason to be there. It was a cause for worry.

"She was following Zepar," Pen replied with a sigh, sinking into a seat with them.

"And what was Lord Zepar doing there?" Penemuel's black sheep younger cousin, the future heir to the throne of Hell. Ansiel gritted his teeth.

"We don't know," Ronwe said quietly.

"So you summoned Ronwe because the ether is the same, she has a chance of putting up a fight?"

"Something like that. If we're honest, she called to me," Penemuel's gaze slipped to Ronwe.

She had appeared as little more than a girl, too young for him. She was perhaps the only woman Penemuel would not consider bedding, and she knew it. It was a cruel advantage in its own way, and Ronwe was not afraid to manipulate the fact. She bristled at his accusation.

"I told you she was about." Pen just shrugged.

"I think you were just eager to come on out," he replied. She shot from her seat in an instant.



"You think it's a joke? You think it's fine for her to wander about? She's as ancient as hell itself, and even I cannot face her. I might be able to delay her, but if she was determined I would be dead. I came to help you, because the situation is serious, and this is how you thank me? With ambivalence."

Penemuel stared at her with a flat gaze.

"We know it's serious. Pen is expressing his affection, Ronwe." She closed her eyes and drew a breath. Penemuel sniffed.

"What affection? If you're no use against her, what's the point of coming out anyway," he stated. Ronwe darkened.

"I hate you. You're so childish and annoying. This is serious! Grow up!" He rose suddenly and took hold of her hand, staring at her.



"Stop. Let's work this out."

Ansiel stared down at the table. If Marchosias was about, Beleth was moving, and what reason could Lord Zepar have to be in the Mirror Valley? He made sure to keep a clear berth of the Mirror Valley whenever he could, excepting Ceremony days, and even then it was with reluctance he attended. He avoided Beleth at all costs, so he would not welcome a visit from Marchosias. Was it possible for Zepar to summon Marchosias?

He did not realize the last thought had been spoken out loud until Penemuel and Ronwe both stared at him.

"What? No!" Penemuel hissed. Ronwe shook her head.

"Not possible. Zepar doesn't have access to the royal ether. Ether is from the father's line, and his father was a nobody demon," she stated coolly, looking a little offended at the idea. Ansiel sighed.

"Then Beleth sent her. Beleth is moving. And Zepar is up to no good."



"So then what can we do?"

"We need to find out why Zepar is here. I think that's probably part of the reason Marchosias has reared her head," Ansiel stated quietly, working out the strategy in his head as he went along. "I think it's very important, central to this. Let's find out how often he's here and why. Then we will have our answers."

Penemuel nodded, then looked to Ronwe. "You'll do that. You can avoid Marchosias. You know well how to do that."

"Are you stupid? I don't spend all my time in the ether avoiding her," Ronwe said in a flat tone. "We don't exist in the ether. We're just ideas, half-formed thoughts, until summoned."

"Then be a half-formed thought avoiding her. I will handle Zepar." She sighed and relented, and Penemuel gave a soft nod, making up his mind. Ansiel let out a soft "oh!" and they glanced to him.



"Since that's sorted for now, we have another problem. What to do with Ronwe?"

"She's going back to the ether until tonight, of course," Pen stated. Ronwe looked furious. Ansiel shook his head.

"No, that would be cruel. She will stay, since she has agreed to help us." Penemuel glared.

"She's my minion. I make the decisions."

"Excuse me?!" Ronwe shot back. "I refuse to go!"

"See. She stays," Ansiel smiled, then rose. "But the real problem is this: we only have two beds."

***



And so...later that evening...



Penemuel decided he hated Ansiel one again.

***



And so passed the second day of the waiting game.

END CHAPTER 6