Time Enough to Rule, Act II: Moves in the Dark (Patreon)

Elmenhilde Karnstein

///

Desperation can drive a person in strange directions.

It can make the most prideful of men drop to their knees, crying and begging for mercy. It can lead to the most astute of men making the worst of deals just for the faintest inkling of hope.

Now, standing with only a single wooden door separating her from her objective, Elmenhilde finds her path leading in a strange direction.

Because she is desperate. Her side, losing the war.

She knows not how those perfidious Tepes men have managed to gain such strength of late, but it cannot be denied by any but a fool that her Carmilla faction is losing because of it. They don't have long left before they will lose entirely and have no recourse but to bend the knee to the Tepes bastard.

Hence the desperation. Hence her presence here. A high ranking Vampire Nobility come to an occult research club inside of a human high school in order to treat with a Devil Heiress, sister to Satan Lucifer, so that she might beg the support of a male Dhampir, formerly of the Tepes faction, who serves as her Queen and wields one of God's Sacred Gears.

As she's said. Strange directions.

But she is a Pure-Blooded Vampire of one of the Noblest of Houses, so no matter how strange the path she has been forced to walk, Elmenhilde will walk it with all the poise she has spent a century living under. No matter the indignity she must face doing so.

It is that noble poise that keeps her from frowning as she stands there, realising that she will have to knock. Knock! Her!?

Bad enough she must be forced not only to treat with a Dhampir, a male Dhampir at that, but that she also has to do so in such a poor location. Yet even then, they do not have the dignity to provide a servant to receive her? To announce her and open the way for her?

And this is the sister of the Satan Lucifer?

Elmenhilde would have thought that a girl holding such a position would have been taught better. But then, perhaps those rumours of how the Satan Lucifer dotes on his sibling hold some truth to them. 

They must, if she is to be acting so discourteously to a diplomatic envoy as she.

Were she not desperate enough to have come in the first place, this insult would have soured any negotiations.

...Perhaps she has judged too quickly? Perhaps the Gremory Heiress is politically minded and this poor reception is not a matter of ignorance but rather a proof that she is aware of Elmenhilde's desperation and wishes to make it blatantly clear who holds the power here?

How irritating. All the more because the Gremory Heiress does hold so much power over these negotiations that Elmenhilde has no recourse but to silently accept the insult.

Elmenhilde knocks on the door.

There is the faint sound of rapid steps and then the door is opened by a small blonde girl, Asia Argento she believes. A small, cute former nun turned Devil. Elmenhilde easily ignores that she is about of a height to the former nun and just as cute.

"Ah! Miss Karnstein?" Such a soft voice for a Devil, even a Reincarnated one.

Elmenhilde returns the smile she is sent even if she internally fumes at being addressed as Miss by a Reincarnated Devil of all things. She is a Lady. Not a Miss.

"That is I," Elmenhilde replies only after realising that the damned girl was waiting for her to do so. Another power play? Or just pure ignorance? Perhaps even arrogance? The Church hardly thinks highly of her kin.

But there is a limit to how low she is willing to degrade herself for the sake of desperation. Being forced to knock and be treated without a servant, she can accept, bitterly. But she will not fall so low as to ask to be invited in. Such a thing would be beyond insulting for a regular noble, let alone a noble Vampire like her.

She does not ask to be invited in.

The silence that grows between them is only broken after it starts to become awkward.

"Oh! Um! Would you like to come in?" The big, wide-eyed innocence so blatantly on display only leaves Elmenhilde internally debating if she is being further insulted or if this Argento truly is entirely ignorant.

"Yes." Her smile is perhaps a tad strained as she gives her response. Feeling the burn of humiliation at having to give a simple 'yes' just so she cannot be further insulted by purposeful misunderstandings or delays.

"Okay!" The girl chirps as if there could have possibly been any other answer to a political envoy arriving after requesting a formal audience.

It is maddening to not know if she is being insulted or simply dealing with incompetents.

Not that she is going to let that thought show of course. She isn't an incompetent.

Regardless, the door is swung open and she almost sighs in contentment at being led forward by a servant as is proper instead of having to bear the humiliation of navigating a foreign building alone.

She should have brought one of her own servants. Would have, were she not advised against it lest one of their lessers accidentally give insult when they seek aid.

Few are pleased to be seeking the aid of a male Dhampir after all. But again, desperation and strange roads.

She is led to a nice enough room. Fine enough to be acceptable, if somewhat lacking for the sister of the Satan Lucifer and Heiress of House Gremory.

However, looking at the simple, if fine, ornamentation of the room and the red-headed Heiress sitting comfortably behind her desk, Elmenhilde finds herself untensing at the understanding that it is far more likely that the girl is simply foolish than cruel.

This room does not signal a mind that understands politics.

Wealth is power. Expressions of wealth are acknowledgements of power, and Rias Gremory holds enough power by dint of her name alone that she should be surrounded by far more wealth than she is.

That she isn't, and only surrounds herself with enough wealth for comfort rather than show is proof enough.

Elmenhilde struggles to fathom how someone in her position could possibly be so uneducated. There is a limit to how much a man can dote on and shelter his sister, surely? Because this is absurd.

"Karnstein-chan!" The Gremory Heiress greets with good cheer, rising from her seat with a smile that seems genuine. Though, she has no idea why the Gremory is using Japanese honorifics. Because they are in Japan maybe? Even though she's a Devil?

Even then, '-chan'? Should it not be '-dono' or '-sama'? '-san' at the very least? But she seems genuine, and Elmenhilde is starting to realise that there truly might be no insult intended here, which is honestly more baffling than the alternative.

She feels like she must be missing something, surely. Because even as far as Romania, she has heard of Venelana Gremory née Bael, the Flaxen-haired Madame of Extinction.

She struggles to believe that such a fearsome woman could dam a child as ignorant as this. Her other child is a Satan for fuck's sake.

"It's nice to meet you!" The Gremory continues, heedless of her thoughts. "It was a surprise to hear from you, but I love your dress! Would you like some tea? Or blood? I had some prepared when I got your letter!"

Elmenhilde realises that she is going to have to forgo her understanding of how diplomacy is to be done here. It clearly will not do her well, which is annoying. At least it is a good thing she didn't bring any servants; that advice was still good, for she is unsure if any of her lessers would have the required poise and intellect to not fuck this up.

Understanding this, Elmenhilde shows a polite smile, one that she knows emphasises her youthful features, and presents a curtsy.

"How do you do, Gremory-chan," it is a struggle to keep both her tone and expression from showing her disgust at using such titling, but from the way the Gremory lights up at the address, she knows it was the right choice. "I would be grateful to accept a glass of blood, thank you for your consideration."

"Aaaaa! You're so cute!" Elmenhilde chants the purpose of her presence here and the direness of her situation in her mind in order to avoid lashing out at such a disrespectful response. This isn't how politics is supposed to be done. "Please, come sit!"

"..Yes. Thank you." Internally, Elmenhilde sighs even as she realises what must be done. It will leave her chest burning with humiliation for years to come, but if that is what is required to ensure the Tepes bastards don't win, then she can act the 'cute vampire princess' for this girl.

It's not like she's unaware of human media, nor the fact that the Gremory Heiress is supposedly obsessed with it. So she more or less can figure out the image that the Devil has generated of her.

Were she not desperate, perhaps she would have attempted to correct that vision.

As it is, she can only step farther into the room and set herself down on the indicated couch.

Her eyes track the Devil's Peerage assembled around the room as she does. Matching faces to the information she was provided.

Asia Argento, she has already noted. The former nun possessing a lesser Sacred Gear; Twilight Healing. Then there is Kiba Yuuto and Xenovia Quarta. Both swordsmen of reasonable skill, the former possessing the Sword Birth Sacred Gear and the latter being another former member of the Church. An exorcist this Time. One who, somehow still wields the legendary sword Durandal despite having left the Church and become a Devil.

She supposes she can understand how the Gremory Heiress could be so ignorant if this is the level of doting her Satan of a brother does for her. Because Elmenhilde has no doubt that the Satan Lucifer must have done some back dealing to allow this former exorcist to retain Durandal. There is no possible other explanation for such an absurd thing to happen.

Regardless of that absurdity however, Elmenhilde pays little mind to the rest of the Peerage in favour of the only one who truly matters beyond the King. 

Gasper Vladi. Dhampir of House Vladi and from what she has been told, quite possibly the most powerful being of Vampire heritage alive. Galling as it is to admit such a thing about a half-breed Dhampir, but alas, desperation.

"So I gotta say, I really wasn't expecting your letter, Karnstein-chan?" The Gremory begins as she takes a seat opposite Elmenhilde. The Dhampir follows her as a servant would, carrying a tray that he sets down on the table. "I assume Gasper's got something to do with it?"

Elmenhilde hardly hears the girl as she watches the Dhampir sets out a cup and pot and pours its King her drink before moving on to set a glass before Elmenhilde and pour her blood from a bottle.

A familiar bottle.

Familiar in the sense that it is a brand of blood wine that she has only seen before in her mother's solar because it is so rare and expensive that it is only poured when her mother is entertaining guests of higher standing.

Of which there are exactly three.

So either the Gremory keeps some of the most valuable blood on hand for her servant, or she was able to acquire it on short notice just for her. Either one would be absurd and yet further evidence of how doted upon she is.

Her eyes flick from the pouring blood to the one doing the pouring, and once more she has to hide a frown.

Half-breed though he may be, Gasper is strong, and that is something that she can respect. Additionally, though only half, his blood is that of noble lineage. So to see him being treated as a mere servant twists at something in her gut that she doesn't like at all.

"He does indeed, Gremory-chan." She makes sure her voice and face is appropriate to fit the image she now knows that the girl wants to see. Annoying as it is to do so. "You see, my home is in a danger that we cannot survive alone, but getting help from different factions could take Time we do not have. Which is why I was sent here, because we saw your Rating Game, and Vladi-sama's strength might be enough to save us from the meanie Tepes! It is our hope that you might allow your Queen to protect his kin, if you would be willing to do so, Vladi-sama?"

It kills her inside to act this way, to use these stupid honorifics and to call a Dhampir, no matter how impressive, by something as high as '-sama'. A part of her wonders if her mother knew that this is the manner of 'negotiation' that was needed and that was why she was chosen?

Elmenhilde is quite proud of her ability to remain proper in any circumstance after all, and it would make sense if her mother trusted that she alone could play this part. If that is the case, then her mother is cruel and she is going to pour out all of her wine and replace it with ketchup.

Alas, such a decision would not have been without good reason, and Elmenhilde cannot fault it.

Just looking at these children, it is clear as day to her that she has them. They will help.

How humiliating.

Now she just has to hope that none of the idiots back home say or do anything to spoil the illusion she has created here.

If she has to go 'ufufu' or 'ohoho' then she's going to kill her mother and then herself.

///

Akeno Himejima

///

"Nervous?"

Akeno spares a glance to her King by her side. She raises a brow in response to the woman's upturned lip.

Lightly huffing an amused breath, Akeno shakes her head and returns her attention to her tea, speaking only briefly before taking another sip.

"I am far too old to be nervous about such a simple thing."

"You are only eighteen," Seekvaira points out, causing Akeno to glare lightly at her with a small smirk of her own, amused despite herself. "Besides, the length of Time since you last saw him might only serve to make this meeting ever more nerve-wracking."

"Then it is a good thing that I have had you to educate me over the years. Mostly, I am just concerned that after all of this Time, I won't even like him."

Seekvaira pats her on the thigh at that. "Best not to let him hear that."

Another amused breath leaves her at the slight teasing to her King's tone.

"Naturally."

A comfortable silence falls between them. There are few, if any, topics left for them to discuss, but Akeno does not mind the silence. It is an enjoyable experience all on its own. Simply being here, with her beloved King inside of their home.

However, it is a silence destined not to last this Time as a soft knock on the door signals the arrival of their expected guests. Not that she didn't notice them coming already, it would be difficult to miss the incredibly agitated presence on the other side of the door.

"Enter," Seekvaira calls out, and the tall wooden door softly swings open.

One of Seekvaira's many maids steps into the room with a bow and stops half a step past the door before orienting to simply be standing beside it so that the next may follow her.

They do not wait, as almost immediately after the maid rushes in a figure whose face Akeno barely finds familiar, followed shortly by another.

Yet, despite that and in spite of her earlier words of confidence spoken to her King, Akeno finds her breath hitching and her throat clenching with sudden hesitation as for the first Time in years, she comes face to face with Baraqiel, the Lightning of God.

Her father.

It has been so long since she ran from him that she thought she had forgotten his face. Yet, now, all of those memories come back. The image of him in her mind clearing as if a fog has been lifted.

Suddenly, his strong, squarish face, his thick beard, his violet eyes. They each fill her with such familiarity. Each feature is like a punch to the gut, stealing the words from her lungs as she can only stare at the face she thought she forgot.

"Akeno." He whispers the word, voice so keen with desperation that Akeno barely contains herself from flinching.

The last Time she saw him, her mother had just been killed. She blamed him for not being there to protect them. It took her a long Time to get over that anger, the grief and hatred. But when she did, she rarely thought of him in truth.

Now, for the first Time, she feels shame at her own callous disregard for the father who likely thought her dead all this Time.

And in truth, maybe, just maybe, there is still a little girl inside of her that just wants to cry for no reason just so that he will comfort her.

However, she refuses to cry anymore in front of her King, so instead, Akeno responds simply. Though, her simple acknowledgement still seems near enough to bring the man to tears.

"Father."

Before anything else can be said, Seekvaira pushes herself to her feet and pats Akeno on the shoulder, squeezing briefly. 

Looking up at her, Akeno receives an understanding smile and nothing more before her King is walking away.

"Come, Azazel," Seekvaira says as she moves to a different door that leads deeper into the Agares manor. "Let us allow their reunion in peace. We may talk elsewhere whilst they catch up."

"A wonderful suggestion," Azazel agrees, and honestly Akeno barely even noticed him standing there. To her amusement—though she is of little mind to focus on it at the moment—Akeno watches Azazel send her father a look eerily reminiscent of the one Seekvaira left her with.

And then, without another word exchanged, the two of them and her King's maid all exit, leaving her alone with her estranged father.

...It's awkward. Akeno doesn't know what to say.

///

Azazel

///

"Sheesh~, what an awkward reunion~. How long do you think it'll take before either of them says anything?" Azazel walks with his hands folded behind his head, eyeing the intriguing, sharply dressed Devil by his side with great attention. Even if his act remains casual. "If I know Baraqiel, he'll probably wind up just staring for a while and then trying to say like seven sentences at the same Time~."

He laughs a little at the thought, having been friends with Baraqiel for well over a thousand years by now. The man has a habit of formulating all of his thoughts before speaking, normally a good thing, except when he then tries to speak them all at once and stutters all over the place.

Well, only when emotions are running high anyway. Like right now.

Interestingly, Seekvaira chuckles lightly alongside him. 

He is still trying to get a read on her, which is not something that he usually struggles with. Especially not with a frickin' teenager. God, it's like baby Ajuka all over again.

.....That's a terrifying thought to have.

Still, his impression of her so far has been that of a politician through and through, with a hint of audacity of course. She did call out literally every single one of the most powerful beings in the universe after all. Which is still hilarious, by the way.

So he wouldn't have expected her to laugh easily at all. He assumed that she would keep more reserved than that. Though, maybe it's because they are in her house? Or because they are in private? Both? Or maybe he was just wrong.

You really are a mystery~.

Azazel does like mysteries.

"If I know Akeno, she will likely also take a while to speak. If I had to guess, she will probably attempt to overcome her awkwardness by acting as if she is giving a report and just start telling Baraqiel about what she has been up to since separating from him. Then she will probably start making demands or something. My Akeno does like being in control after all, something that I figure she gets from her mother?"

Now that makes Azazel laugh. A full on belly laugh, because Lady Agares totally just called Baraqiel out for being a masochist, and that is just so hilarious.

However, as funny as that is, Azazel does not miss the possessive. 'My Akeno' she said. 

That's interesting.

Soon enough he is led into another sitting room, the maid opening the door for them and standing in a bow as they pass.

"Tea? Coffee? Alcohol of some flavour?" Lady Agares queries as she gestures to a pair of comfortable couches separated by a low table.

Humming appreciatively, and also to test Lady Agares' reaction to minor breaches in decorum, Azazel answers with a smile, "I hear Agreas produces a unique wine. Supposedly it is rather good, but I have not had the pleasure of enjoying it."

The wine he speaks of is actually one of the rarest around. He is fairly sure that Agreasite is used somehow in its creation, considering the circumstantial evidence. A result of this is that it is quite literally impossible to get a hold of with money alone.

So since he is already here, he might as well try, right?

"A travesty that will be rectified at once," Lady Agares responds with a small smile of her own, making no further move. Not that she needs to, as the maid behind her walks to a closed cabinet and opens it to reveal an empty space covered in runes.

A moment later, a crystal decanter of deep red wine and two crystal glasses appear on a gilded tray that the maid swiftly picks up. The display of wealth is evident enough, but he is hardly bothered by such things anymore.

He does still appreciate it though, of course.

"You know," Azazel begins as the maid pours their drinks, speaking as if the thought just hit him. "I expected that I would have had to reach out to you about setting up a meeting between little Akeno and Baraqiel. I was quite surprised to receive your second letter. Figured you'd be rather busy after your bold words~. But then again, you did ask that Baraqiel watch your show~."

She sends him a small smirk and picks up her glass. "I have all of the Time in the world," she responds, her tone suggesting meaning that he cannot understand. Some inside joke perhaps. Hopefully not one being made at his expense, but he doesn't think that likely from her.

Seekvaira takes a brief, appreciative sip of her wine before speaking again. He follows her cue and sips from his own glass as she talks.

"I am always busy, but unlike you I actually enjoy being busy." Her words don't feel malicious, more friendly. Which Azazel deduces to mean that she has a better understanding of his character than he does her. He can only wonder if it is a guess or if she actually has, somehow, learned of how much he slacks off with paperwork. "Even then, my Peerage are very important to me. I care for them as I do my own limbs, so I would naturally set aside some Time to see to their needs, psychological or otherwise. Her relationship with Baraqiel was a good excuse to arrange a meeting with you besides."

Holy shit this wine is crazy.

Azazel blinks and repeats Seekvaira's words in his head, having gotten distracted. He's not a connoisseur or anything, but he is old. He's tasted basically every flavour there is, so he can't help but be surprised at this wine tasting so unique.

Must be Agreasite. There is no other ingredient or material within Agares lands that is unique enough to explain it.

How the hell do they turn Agreasite into wine? No wonder it's so scarce. A Peerage set could have probably been made out of the cup in his hand.

Azazel pauses at that thought and has another sip. Hilarious~.

"Using your poor Peerage's family ties for your own benefit~? How devilish of you, Dear~." His teasing has a deeper layer to it, in that he is trying to provoke a reaction from her. Not a large one, of course, hence why he did make sure to keep his tone mostly jovial. 

But he really can't read her at all and it's as annoying as it is fascinating. He wants to see her react to something, anything. He needs to see her unguarded emotions. It's the quickest way to understand a person's character.

Unfortunately, she does not so much as twitch.

Dang.

She simply makes a minute gesture that could generously be called a reserved shrug of the shoulders and allows her smile to turn a mite playful.

"Indeed, though I did not do so without her knowledge, if that counts for anything." It does. Well, sort of. More specifically it means that of the two estranged family members, only one came without an ulterior motive. It changes things somewhat, and Azazel is kind of annoyed that she said that, because this is exactly the kind of thing where Baraqiel is simply better off not knowing.

It's a small detail in the first place, but there's no need to make a complex situation any more complicated. Which means that Azazel now basically has no choice but to be 'in' on a secret with Seekvaira.

Azazel's eyes narrow slightly even if he gives no other indication to his thoughts.

Sharing a secret is a good way to manipulate people.

It's kind of like how showing a weakness can actually make you safer in the right circumstance. It could just be a coincidence, or him overthinking things, latching on to a thought because of a lack of luck otherwise, but he thinks he's right.

She's manipulating him. Doing so in a way that even if he knows it, he can't really stop it. Not without upsetting Baraqiel. He's being held moral hostage.

The level of manipulation, meant to form some manner of cordiality between them, a 'bond' forged in the sharing of a secret, is only minor. This secret is, after all, as unimportant as they come. Thus, the manufactured 'bond' is equally insignificant.

But even if the improvement is merely in the decimals, anything that goes up from zero makes their 'bond' move from something that doesn't exist into something that does.

Gaaaahhh this is so annoying! Azazel complains in his mind with secret delight.

He hasn't had to put so much thought into anything but his research in centuries.

Still, if she is manipulating him with the intention of forming a 'bond,' then at least it means she isn't likely to try and act against his interests.

Then again, he could still be overthinking everything. Politicians do shit like this all the Time; they are taught to. That doesn't mean that they are necessarily thinking about all of the details as he is right now.

He doesn't think he should underestimate her, though.

It's the smile. Every now and then, her charisma shines just so that it reminds him far too much of a certain rebellious brother of his.

"Besides," Seekvaira continues, unknowing of his thoughts. "I am a firm believer in mutual beneficence. An estranged family can reunite and we can talk shop. A win-win, no?"

Azazel chuckles and downs another mouthful of the wine. It's seriously good. Well, it's less about quality and more about uniqueness, but still.

"'Fruitful to both of our satisfaction'," Azazel smirks as he quotes from her own original letter to him, and he is unsurprised to see that she remembers it. "You did mention. Though, I admit I found the concept to be rather interesting, for I do not see what it is that you could offer me or my faction without the backing of the New Satans that would be significant enough to warrant my personal attention. Though I wouldn't mind trading for more of this wine," he amends at the end. 

It's really good. He wants to enjoy it properly for however many decades it will last before the flavour ceases to be novel.

"No?" Seekvaira has the kind of smile on her face that he recognises as the one people wear when they know something he does not. He hates seeing that smile. He's supposed to be the guy that knows more than everyone else! Hmph! "Not even Agreasite?"

The word has him freeze, if only briefly before he moves on, and Azazel sends her a dull look with a slight smirk at the 'honestly curious' question.

"Please," he rolls his eyes as theatrically as possible. "Do you really expect me to believe that the Satans would allow you to trade Agreasite with anyone else? How depressing~ to think that I am thought of so lowly~, I'll cry~."

Despite the impropriety of his act, something that he believes she values considering her dress and general poise, Seekvaira still doesn't react. 

Am I invisible? Even my Cadres still glare at me and they've had ages to get used to it! Tch.

"Agreasite is a product of my House," Seekvaira immediately counters, her eyes narrowing slightly even as her smile remains. "I may trade it with whomsoever I desire. However, you are right in the sense that the current contract held betwixt my House and that of the New Satan Faction will be honoured to completion. Now, while it is true that the trade of Agreasite is not what I wished to negotiate with you, it is also true that there are oft excesses beyond the agreed terms my House has with the Satans. So if you would like a small sample for study, I am sure we could make a deal."

Azazel almost shivers at the smile she sends him as she says the word 'deal'. It reminds him far too much of Luci.

How scary~.

"Hmm~, well I suppose we'll see," Azazel settles on. Not wanting to commit to anything too hastily, even if he is tempted. He's barely managed to smuggle any of the rock into his labs! "I think it only makes sense to get to what brought me here in the first place before anything else. Typically, in a scenario like this I would assume you to be contacting me in order to seek a backer to replace your previous allies. Somehow though, I don't see this conversation going that way~."

Seekvaira smiles with meaning and sets her glass down. 

He really doesn't like the way she reminds him of his brother. Now that he's noticed it, he just can't stop seeing it. It makes him feel like he is going to go home only after dancing to her tune and doing whatever she wants of him. Just like Luci used to do. Annoying prick.

"Indeed," she agrees with a friendly, reserved chuckle. "Agares lands and holdings will be defended by Agares men and women. Outsourcing survival seems rather foolish. My House is dedicated to remaining a truly neutral party in global politics. My philosophy on the matter is rather simple. Why have enemies when one can have friends instead?"

She lets the words hang for only a brief moment, and Azazel doesn't speak up only because it is clear that she is not done speaking. From what he has seen of her, he gets the feeling that she would be more upset at being interrupted than she would be if he outright insulted her.

"But first, as you have your doubts, I believe I should begin by clarifying a little on both what I want and what I have to offer. On the subject of the latter, I am naturally aware of your famed interest in Sacred Gears. How often have you had the opportunity to study a Longinus?"

Azazel raises a brow, his scientific curiosity coming to the fore at the mention of his obsession.

"A few Times over the years," he casually answers without really answering. "Never the Boosted Gear though. Those hosts tend not to be the most receptive types to study. Lady Tiamat is scary too~, what if she beats me up~?" He laughs at his own joke, and Seekvaira at least smiles indulgingly so there is that.

But he allows his amusement to fade away pretty quickly before speaking again.

"I won't deny a desire to study the Boosted Gear, but the study of a single Longinus is hardly the most valuable thing to offer me." The implication being clear that he is referring to his position as the leader of a major faction.

"Good then that I never had the intention to offer you anything of excessive value. What I desire out of this negotiation is hardly valuable in the first place. To be clear, I only intended for this to be a small deal between peers and an introduction to one another, not a negotiation to reshape the political landscape of the world or any such nonsense."

Between peers? The words bring endless amusement. She really is audacious. It's kind of hilarious.

Kind of scary too.

"With that being said," she continues, a smug, if barely, smile on her face. "Whoever said that I have only a single Longinus available to me?"

Eh?

"You have two Longinus-class Sacred Gears?" Azazel asks with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. However, when Seekvaira responds with an even smugger smile, Azazel's surprise only grows. "You have more than two Longinus?!"

"Indeed I do," she confirms with a smile. "Though, not all are among my Peerage. I do have servants outside of them you know?"

Azazel's surprise loops right back to a dull stare that he regards her with as her words register in his mind.

"You have an excess of Longinus-class Sacred Gears?" He asks, dubiousness clear as day as he speaks the absurd words.

Seekvaira does that barely-a-shrug shrug thing again before answering. "My Peerage has a high bar. There is more to a man than the power they are born with."

"Unless that power is a Longinus," Azazel mutters, quietly grumpy.

Why does she get so many Longinus? He's the Sacred Gear guy! Gah! He's so jealous!

"A toddler with a gun does not stop being a toddler simply because they wield a tool able to kill a man." The metaphor is apt, but this is his area of expertise they are talking about, and Azazel can hardly stand the slander of comparing a Sacred Gear to something as mundane as a gun.

"Sacred Gears aren't simple tools," Azazel immediately counters with the zeal of an obsessed inventor talking about his favourite subject. "They pick their wielders. No one born with a Sacred Gear is ever a metaphorical 'toddler'. Certainly not a Longinus wielder. They are always special even without their Gear. It is the nature of their souls that attracts the Gears in the first place."

"And it is the nature of the Gears that dictate the souls that entice them," Seekvaira counters, just as fast. "Twilight Healing for instance will choose to manifest itself in a soul most fitting for its own nature, that of healing. However, that means that the Gear will disregard any other factors, for they are irrelevant. The result being a hypothetical man with not a single redeemable quality or impressive trait to his name bar a strong desire to help others and being born with a Sacred Gear."

Azazel opens his mouth to retort, pauses, purses his lips in thought before eventually opening his mouth again.

"That.." His tone is hesitant. Sceptical at the unexpectedness of her answer. "..Huh. That's actually a good point..."

"No need to sound so surprised, I have done my studies you know?" Seekvaira's tone is a mix of lightly teasing and chiding, but he hardly pays attention to that.

He didn't expect that she would have any understanding of Sacred Gears. At least, not any more than anyone else does anyway. Still, he doesn't allow his surprise to linger.

"I wasn't aware they taught about Sacred Gears in Devil schools~," he says, his tone teasing as they both know that they do not. Not that it would really matter anyway as a Devil Heiress—or, formerly Heiress—like her would never attend a public school in the first place. Nobility always have private tutors.

Except for the Sitri and Gremory Heiresses of this generation he supposes.

They've decided to attend a human public school for some reason. Well, he obviously knows their reasoning. They are the sisters of half the Satans after all, it's only natural that he'd spy on them.

Azazel spies on everyone of even mild importance. Which is amusing, because he knows very little of the woman in front of him, having not thought her any more important than the vast wealth of her House.

A mistake he is coming to realise is rather grave and in need of immediate rectification.

"Well you know what they say," Lady Agares responds, her tone matching his teasing, if still more reserved. "Know thy enemy."

Azazel chuckles politely. "Yes, and on that subject, you have spoken of Sacred Gears, of Agreasite and this lovely wine of yours being up for offer, but I've yet to hear what exactly it is that you want from me?"

The subtle jab in his words is clearly noted and just as clearly disregarded.

Seekvaira doesn't answer right away. Savouring another sip of her wine first and foremost. She takes her Time setting her glass back down before speaking up again, her tone purposefully casual.

"I hear that those out-of-date Satans caused something of a ruckus recently," she begins, the sudden non-sequitur throwing Azazel off slightly.

A sigh leaves her, one of commiseration that is subtly fake. Subtle enough that he doubts anyone less attentive than him would have noticed, meaning that she really does have an accurate impression of him. "I can empathise with the frustration you three must have felt at having to delay such an important meeting. It is irritating having to reschedule around so many agendas."

Azazel freezes, this Time feeling more than just some slight surprise at her words, but actual, genuine shock.

How does she know about that? He thinks, the world slowing down as his prodigious mind churns faster than any human computer, for he has no doubt about what she speaks. The reference to three is enough evidence for that.

It is no secret that the three Abrahamic Factions have been in peace talks for quite some Time now, centuries of work even. Yet, the fact of them scheduling an actual sit down for some final discussion and, most importantly, signing an actual, real peace treaty is a secret.

No, calling it only a secret is understating it, as Azazel hasn't even informed most of his Cadres about it. It is something that he has discussed only with the Seraph, Satans and three of his closest advisors.

No one should know about it. And even if someone, somehow learned of their intention to sign a peace treaty, knowing even the date well enough to call him out on a delay? It's absurd.

Because there was a delay. The Old Satans made a small mess a few days before the intended signing that left both Azazel and his Satan counterparts too busy with other urgent matters to meet together with Michael.

Seekvaira should not be aware of any of this.

He could accept her knowing about the Old Satans' mischief. That was fairly public even if they've done a good job keeping it on the down low.

But how the Hell does she know about the treaty?

"Well you know how it is," Azazel responds blithely, not letting his inner turmoil show. "Can't predict everything. I don't see what relevance my own internal matters have here though?"

Obviously he isn't going to admit to anything related to the treaty or mention it. Even if he knows that she knows that he isn't talking about an internal matter.

"Quite simple really," her smile is really starting to look like Luci's now. "When you do manage to reschedule, I would like to be present for the.. talks." The way she says the word makes it clear to him that she wants to say 'negotiation'.

Azazel tilts his head minutely as her answer goes in a direction he was not at all expecting it to.

The surprises really just don't stop with the new Lady Agares. He is both having a blast and hating every second of this conversation.

He just can't help it. He's really a scientist at heart, and this Devil is just oh, so, curious.

"What an odd request~," Azazel responds, choosing to stick to the paper thin pretence that they are not at all talking about a totally-not-in-the-works peace treaty. "What could you stand to gain from being present at an internal meeting of my faction? I also fail to see what you would be bringing to the table?"

"To answer the latter first, I bring neutrality." She lets the word hang for a second, giving it a weight it wouldn't otherwise possess. "My House is dedicated to remaining a truly neutral party in global politics, you see."

"So you have said," is his droll comment. She still doesn't react beyond a small, acknowledging nod and her ever-present noble's smile.

"Indeed. Which brings me neatly to the former of your questions. What I stand to gain." She pauses, looking him in the eye as she answers with a single word. "Reputation."

"Reputation?" He prompts, intensely curious of how she will elaborate.

"Indeed. Reputation," she confirms again with a smile and a nod. "As I have said, my House is dedicated to remaining neutral. However, for that to be true, the perception of 'House Agares' needs to gain distance from the idea of 'The New Satan Faction'. Being present at your 'internal meeting'," she smirks the words, "As an impartial moderator of sorts will do well to situate my House's perception as outside of any one political sphere."

Azazel nods along with her words, understanding them to be true. It would naturally not change her House's public perception overnight, but it would be a strong beginning to the process.

He still can't help but feel like there is more to this than he can see right now. It's just a niggling feeling in the back of his mind. Telling him that there is something that he is not seeing.

"And you believe yourself in a position to fill such a role??"

"Is there anyone else more suitable?" She immediately counters, confident. "I am the strongest Devil in history, possessing the most powerful Peerage to date. Though I do understand that these facts are not yet acknowledged enough to matter, however Tiamat's reputation holds enough weight by itself to cover the strength required for one to be such a mediator. Beyond that, My House is the most influential, wealthy and powerful neutral faction within the Abrahamic Pantheonic sphere. So tell me, is there anyone more suitable?"

Azazel really wishes he could say there was, but he couldn't do so while remaining honest. She is completely right about Tiamat. The Chaos Karma Dragon had reputation enough before she somehow managed to pick up the Boosted Gear. He can't think of any faction that would willingly stand against her.

As for other factors, House Agares is insanely rich. Like stupid, absurd, way over-the-top rich. One of the wealthiest families in the universe. 

As if that weren't enough, Azazel recalls that just shortly after her little announcement at the youth's tournament, her political influence shone through as well.

Houses Gremory, Sitri, Phenex, Belial, Glasya-Labolas and a bunch of smaller Houses have all made official statements acknowledging and congratulating House Agares' independence.

He has no idea how she managed that last one considering her apparent relationship with Zephyrdor Glasya-Labolas.

He initially didn't think too much of this, but only now that he is sitting in front of her, listening to her words, does he truly realise both the position that she has put herself in and the position she strives to gain.

Politically, she is untouchable among Devilkind. Monetarily, she is unmatched. Militarily, he is honestly willing to believe at this point that she could match his entire faction. At least on the upper end of things anyway.

The only weakness in her armour, in the position she has schemed her House into, is that of the other two factions. She has no deep ties with either his Grigori or with Heaven.

However, if she were to be the neutral moderator present as they sign a peace treaty, then suddenly she will become a part of the peace treaty. The preeminent liaison between their factions. Heaven and his Grigori will become unable to touch her because doing so could put pressure on the signage of the treaty itself.

She is trying to become a truly untouchable entity within the Abrahamic Faction.

That thought only spurs another as he recalls her hilarious speech once more. Her challenge to all factions, slated to take place only after a year passes.

Plenty enough Time for her to institute herself properly into the neutral position of power she now so clearly desires within the Abrahamic Pantheon.

Then what? Does she seek to use them all as a springboard to become the universe's preeminent neutrality? Is she trying to become the supernatural equivalent of humanity's Switzerland?

To what end? What goal is she pursuing for this? If she is indeed emulating Switzerland, then the answer would be wealth and political untouchability.

By doing as she is, if she is indeed planning in tune with his thoughts. The position she would be in by the end would bring her House endless wealth and influence. More than any one faction by its lonesome.

So that is your game, huh? You are daring indeed, greedy, greedy Devil.

Azazel almost laughs, but keeps his reaction to this revelation of his composed to a simple smile, pleased at having unravelled the mystery before him. His thoughts having progressed near instantly enough that there is no awkward pause to consider as he responds.

"So, to be clear. You want for me to host my internal meeting inside of your territory, claiming it to be a neutral ground to work on. And you want me to make the executive decision to invite you to be present, all simply so that you might gain the reputation of having been there?"

She nods, pleased but restrained. "Indeed it is so. In exchange for this small favour, I would be willing to ask Tiamat to allow you to study her Gear within the year, and I will allow you to study upwards of three additional Longinus in my service after thirteen months have passed from now. And, of course, plenty enough wine to satisfy you."

Only after thirteen months? Azazel thinks with amusement. You want to keep your cards close to your chest up until your tournament~? And what do you mean upwards of three? How many do you have?!

Truthfully, on the surface of things it is a great deal for him. Studying so many Longinus, all so close together? The research value would be immense. It could propel his work forward decades if not centuries. And the price she is asking in exchange for things that would normally never be given is so incredibly cheap as to practically be a steal.

After all, just letting her be present doesn't necessarily mean that she will be able to accomplish anything. And even if she does succeed, it's not like it will bring him any harm.

But for her plan to work, assuming he has the right of it, she would need to impress both himself and the Seraphs enough for them to actually hold her with the value she desires.

Most likely, she will only get half of what she wants. Earning the acknowledgement but not the reputation. It isn't an easy fit, the seat she wants to claim.

Yet, he still feels like he is missing something.

The question that remains is rather simple.

Does he put a stop to her scheming here and now, wary of what may come of them. Or, does he allow her to take her shot at creating a hegemony over neutrality?

It really is just like Luci way back when. What horrible memories.

In the end, Azazel smiles as the decision is clear to him and made with barely any deliberation at all.

After all, Azazel does like studying Sacred Gears.

///

Artemis

///

The sky is dark with clouds of smoke. Light only touches her skin from the flickering flames polluting the air, burning over the ruins of what was once her home. An island hidden away from the mortal world where her Hunt can live together in peace.

Artemis scans the small village she built with her loyal followers, stone faced. Not a hint of the unbridled rage within her coming to the fore.

Her eyes pause on every corpse. Recognition—because of course she recognises each and every one of them—comes quicker for some and slower for others. Even for her, a Goddess, it is a struggle to identify some of the bodies.

Ruined. Gored. Defiled.

Artemis clenches her fists so tightly that her bow creaks under the strain, but she does not allow her face to fall into the mask of grief it so desperately desires.

No. Grief can come later.

Over the din of crackling flames and crumbling homes, Artemis hears the laughter.

Choked, gurgling, wheezing laughter but laughter all the same.

Artemis fails to withhold her anger and the laughter vanishes in a wheeze of pain. A silent scream from the man beneath her boot.

She was not gone for long. Just a brief jaunt to hunt a beast that none of her Hunters could have aided her with.

She didn't think—

She didn't think she'd come back to this.

Her people, slaughtered. Their remains either near unrecognisable from the violence vested upon them or leaking evidence of their defilement. Often cases both.

The only fraction of vindication left is the dozens of corpses her Hunters made of the magicians that attacked them.

Her boot presses down harder, near enough to pierce through the flesh of the man beneath her entirely. Only the moment before he would have died does she pull back enough for him to breathe. Only then does she look down at the filth responsible for the ruin of near everything she loves.

He is an abomination. Not just his soul, which is clearly more depraved than any other, but his form as well.

She assumes he was human once. Now he could best be described as a chimera. His flesh bubbles and roils. Asymmetry rules him. One shoulder thrice as large as the other, growing into a too big arm that ends in a beast's claws. His face twists without rhyme or reason, a dozen beasts and men trying to make themselves known at once. Silver hair either shines like metal and clumps like flesh.

This thing is responsible. 

Were it the magicians alone, Artemis is confident that her Hunters would have come out victorious.

It is only this thing beneath her that possessed enough strength to overwhelm them before her return. She hasn't failed to notice that it wields Hauteclere either—a Holy Sword of the Church.

"Identify yourself, Man." It's difficult to even ask anything of him. Every inch of her just wants to tear him apart. To use all of her Divinity to impose the cruellest of fates upon him, an endless torture for his crime.

But she would know why this has happened first.

"He—hah—" The weak, delirious laughter that tries to leave the man is stymied by a constant hacking and coughing and pained wheezes. But without her boot threatening death upon him, he is capable of gathering himself enough to speak eventually. Artemis is patient enough to wait. She is a Hunter, after all. It is only natural she would have patience with her prey.

"F-Freed Sellzen." Perhaps were he not a monster, the smile he sent with his words would have been considered something. Cocky, arrogant, depraved, anything. But as it is, he is more monster than man, and nothing can come from his smile but vile disgust. "Nice ta' meet'cha, Virgin Bitch. God I wanna feel your tits around my—"

Freed's vulgarities are cut off with a choked sound of pain, and her eyes are cold as ice as she chokes him under her boot once more.

"Why." The word is spat through gritted teeth. Barely more a question than a statement.

She doesn't really know why she asks. She can already guess the answer, at least in a general sense anyway, and she knows that she will hate to hear it. That it will hurt. 

Maybe that is why she asked. Because her Hunters are all dead.

It's not right that she wouldn't suffer alongside them.

His laughter—mad, delirious, insane laughter peters out. The cruel glee within him is clear to see, entirely unhidden.

"Y—Hehe~! You even need ta' ask? I did it cuz I'm me. I did it, because I am you." She almost kills him the moment he laughs that final accusation up at her. But she doesn't. Probably for the same reason, she lets him keep talking. Every word from his abhorrent mouth a dagger to her chest.

"I mean, think about it, it's the same, isn't it? Haha! You ever think about how many lil' beasties you've hunted? You ever think 'bout why you hunt all the Time? There ain't a real reason, is there? Ya just do it cuz it's who you are. We're like mirrors, you and I. So you wanna know why I killed your lil' whores? Why I fucked all the cunts in this shithovel? Well turn around, bitch. It's written behind you. Now are ya gonna kill me or not? Cuz I can see your cunt from down here and I'm startin' to get—"

Freed doesn't so much as see her move before his speech cuts off into unconsciousness.

Not out of mercy. No. It is just that he deserves far worse than mere death can give him. 

Artemis will make Tantalus' suffering seem like a generous mercy when compared to what she intends for this scum beneath her.

But, grating as it is to do so, that justice will have tp wait for now.

First, Artemis must give all of her Hunters their proper burial rites. Both because they have earned the honour and to ensure Hades treats them well.

Then, Artemis has one more task before she can see to this Sellzen's punishment.

Artemis is going to find out why the fuck a man wielding one of the Church's Holy Swords just slaughtered her tribe.

With that determination driving her, Artemis only spares a brief glance behind her as Freed bade her do. Her eyes fall upon the centre of her village, a sight she has noticed but chosen to avoid paying attention to.

Where in great bold lettering, two words have been written out in the blood of her followers.

'KHAOS BRIGADE'

///

Diehauser Belial

///

The Emperor.

Champion of the Rating Game.

King of Hell, Lord Belial.

The man in possession of each of these titles is perhaps not the man that a mortal human would expect him to be.

For, despite holding such oppressive titles, his character and that of his House is more akin to the likes of the Gremory, if not to such a degree.

Whether it is in the nature of a Belial to possess a kindness and respect nearing that of the famously un-devilish Gremory's or a result of House Belial's recent history, few could say.

Because Diehauser Belial is a kind and humble man, one who holds a deep love for his family and truly respects any who put forth their full effort regardless of their lineage.

House Belial, despite being ranked King among the Seventy-Two Pillars have had a rough few centuries. Multiple generations of leadership accomplishing so little that their names are not even remembered.

This generational downturn resulted in Belial lands and coffers falling to poverty. It led to a humble childhood for the young Diehauser. Born into a family that, while obviously not struggling to survive, could not have been called anything but the poorest among all noble Houses.

A truly Worthless House.

Yet, despite this poverty. Despite the mocking jeers of their supposed 'peers'. Of the vast nobility so happy to celebrate the suffering of a House ranked higher than them. Delighting in seeing a titan of the Underworld fall below their level.

Despite all of this, Diehauser's family remained kind. Their people remained safe. Treated well even as their lands lost value.

It is because of the sacrifice and endless love that his parents showed to him, that Diehauser felt so consumed by the want, the need to succeed. To repay this debt of love. To ensure their sacrifice was not Worthless. 

So he trained.

He trained and he studied and he trained some more. He put every ounce of effort behind his prodigious talent and spared no suffering of his own. The only Time he did not spend improving himself was the Time spent with his beloved family. Doing all that he could, knowing that it would never be enough, to repay even a fraction of the love he was given.

Whether it was his parents or his cousin, Cleria Belial. Branch family or not, she was family and that was all that ever mattered to him, so he ignored the separation and pretended in his mind that she were his little sister instead.

And in the end, his dedication paid off.

His mother was against his participation in the Rating Games, not wanting to see him hurt. That was the first Time that he ever chose a path she did not want for him.

But it was something he had to do. 

He had to fight.

He had to win.

And so he did.

He fought, oh how he fought. Over and over and over and over again.

At the start, he lost more than he won. Over and over.

He lost so many Times that they started calling him 'The Worthless King'. Over and over.

His mother cried for him. It broke his heart to see it, but he did not stop. Could not stop. 

His father, at least, understood. Diehauser always knew that his father felt the same as his mother. But a man understands what a man must do. So even if his father wanted him to stop, he said nothing.

So Diehauser fought, and he kept on fighting. Over and over.

He kept on losing. Over and over.

But, every Time he lost, he learned. He found the cause of his defeat and he removed the weakness. Cut away every Worthless cell in his body.

Every Time he lost, Diehauser improved. 

And then..

Then he started to win.

He started to win and he did not stop.

Soon enough, he was winning more than he was losing. Then he was barely losing at all.

And now?

Now, no one remembers The Worthless King.

The only thing they call him now is The Emperor, Champion of the Rating Game.

With such success behind him, House Belial's centuries of poverty have come to an end. His House, his people, his family. All of it was improving. Reclaiming the great heights that they had lost.

It was perfect. Everything that he sought for. Everything he trained for.

It was everything that he had ever wanted. His entire life of dedication, all bearing fruit before his very eyes.

"And then you died."

Diehauser Belial, Champion of the Rating Game, solemnly raises a glass of wine in toast to a large painting. A family portrait hanging as the centrepiece of his office. 

Surrounding him is a room far more opulent than his youth, yet still simple. The decorations fine but reserved, for he had not the heart to waste his House's newfound wealth on such pointless things as vanity when the people who depend on him could have their lives improved instead.

It is the least they deserve for remaining loyally by the side of his House even through centuries of decline.

A sigh leaves the man as he swallows a mouthful of wine and melts bonelessly into his office's sofa. An air of melancholy surrounds him, a deep, weary sadness filling his deep grey eyes.

A hand brushes through his equally grey hair—long, but not so much as to touch the shoulders—before another deep sigh fills the room.

"I'm sorry," he says, speaking softly to the otherwise empty room. Though, his eyes move to meet that of his cousin's. His sister's. At least, the eyes of what remains of her. A painting made in detail as a celebration for his achievement of ranking number one in the Rating Game. "I still don't know why you died. I'm sorry that I failed you."

Everything was perfect. It was all perfect.

All the way until Cleria went and died.

As if that alone were not bad enough, he still, after all of this Time, doesn't know who killed her!

Oh, he has heard plenty on the subject. He knows that he has no evidence, that all signs point to it just being an unfortunate turn of events. 

People die all the Time, even Devil nobility. Sometimes there just isn't a big reason for something big to happen. Sometimes life is just shit.

But even if there is no evidence, even if no one will believe him, Diehauser knows. He knows that there is more to it. He knows it deep down to his bones that she was killed. Murdered.

But...

No matter what he tries. No matter what he learns or what he investigates, Diehauser cannot find a single lead to the truth.

He has long given up on trying to convince anyone of what he knows to be true. The more Time that passes without any evidence showing itself, the more he simply sounds insane speaking of a conspiracy.

Another sigh leaves Diehauser as his budding anger disperses, fading away with his breath.

"I'm sorry," he says again, his soft voice no less melancholic than before. "I couldn't get you anything better, but..." He raises his glass again, another sombre toast to the lifeless portrait of better Times. "Happy birthday, lil' sis."

However, as Diehauser is bringing the liquor back to his lips, his yearly routine is interrupted by a soft knocking.

Without waiting for his answer or acknowledgement, his office door then swings open to allow passage of a finely dressed maid. An act of impropriety that would never be seen in any Devil House outside of the Gremory, and perhaps the Sitri too. Such a thing in many Houses could even result with the maid in question being executed.

Diehauser just groans and leans deeply into his chair, turning his face to the sky as he does.

"Whaaaaaaaddaya waaaaant?" His tone is that of a grumpy teenager complaining to a parent for bothering them, and is certainly not anything that should be heard leaving the Head of a Noble House of Devils.

The maid in question smirks slightly even as she raises an unimpressed brow and looks down on him with playful disappointment.

"Have some propriety, brat." The maid speaks without reserve, her tone at odds with her words for how it is both playful while also being soft and sombre. Mindful of the scene she has walked into, as she is obviously aware of this routine of his. "Don't think you're too big to be paddled, young man."

Such words spoken by a mere maid to a Noble Patriarch—of a House ranked King at that—is something unheard of. A scene that few would believe, and even fewer would accept. In fact, a maid in service of House Bael—the one House ranked higher than Belial and lower than the Satans at Great King—would sooner cut out their own tongue than speak so frivolously before Lord Bael.

However, despite all appearances, this maid is older than Diehauser by many, many years. She has been in service of his House long before he was born. Long enough that not only has she been a figure akin to an aunt in his life, but she also held a similar position in the heart of his father.

She's like a second mother to him, so naturally he would never even dream of telling her how she should or should not comport herself. 

It's not like she would act so casually in front of guests anyway.

So, because she is akin to a second mother to him, it is only natural for Diehauser to respond appropriately to being disturbed and threatened with a paddling that she has never actually given him before.

"Yeah yeah," he waves a hand dismissively. "You're not my real mom. What is it, Erika?"

The words would have been callous were they not delivered in the casual tone of a long repeated inside joke.

After all, the words are a complete lie. He has naturally long since ensured that Erika could hold no doubt that he held her in his heart with the same love as his own flesh and blood. A familial devotion returned to the woman who has stayed loyal to his House for generations.

"You have a guest," her smile twitches up slightly at his raised brow. It is a rather odd Time to have a guest, an unexpected one at that. Unless he is somehow forgetting something. However, her clear amusement fails to hide her apprehension from his eyes. "Three, to be precise. I am sorry to disturb you today of all days with such a thing, but their words made me hesitate to simply send them away, no matter how suspicious they appear."

"Oh?"

"Yes. There are three, as I said, and they are each concealed under black cloaks that bear neither sigil nor allegiance. Upon pressing for clarity, they have unilaterally refused to identify themselves or their purpose for seeking you out today."

"What a pain," Diehauser sighs, looking away from his aunt. "What did they say, exactly?"

Erika closes her eyes in thought, visibly recalling the exact wording used, even changing her tone slightly to match, sounding even more aristocratic than her usual demeanour.

"You have my apologies for the unannounced visit. We are here to meet with Lord Belial in order to discuss certain matters. I am afraid that our identities must remain concealed until we are in the private presence of Lord Belial. We will wait for you to gain your master's permission to allow us entry, but please do not dawdle." Erika pauses and opens her eyes, clearly speaking this Time as herself instead of through quote. "They appeared rather confident that you would grant them ingress."

"Did they now," Diehauser absently replies, his mind busy working through what he has been told.

It is not as if suspicious, cloaked visits in the night are unheard of among the nobility. It's pretty standard actually for such things to happen every once in a while when it comes to politics.

It's just that House Belial has not been a player in the Underworld's politics for a long Time now.

Even then, if his House were greatly political, this situation is still odd.

For while suspicious nightly visits are not unheard of, there is a significant difference when said visit is unannounced.

One does not drop in on a Noble unannounced, cloaked and with unknown intentions. It is simply not something that is done, and for good reason. Which is why Diehauser will feel no regret or hesitation sending them away and refusing this interaction.

Diehauser snorts derisively and waves a dismissive hand to Erika. "Really, who do they think I am? Send them away. Honestly, what could give them so much confidence?"

"I asked a similar question," Erika replies, notably not leaving to send the 'guests' away. "Their answer for their confidence in meeting with you was, 'Because he is a family man', my Lord."

The sigh that leaves him this Time is both tired and annoyed.

"So it's a threat then?" He asks with narrowed eyes.

"It would seem that way, my Lord." Erika's tone is hardly any more friendly than his own.

"Very well then," Diehauser sets his glass down and orients himself to be seated properly in his chair as a Lord should be. "Let's see who wants to threaten me today."

Erika bows without another word and takes her leave to guide his 'guests' to his office.

Diehauser meanwhile, is not really concerned. Not immediately anyway. Just annoyed.

He figures that this is probably some political threat he's about to receive. Something something, do this or do that, business this or business that. It's tiring really.

But he doubts that there is any immediate danger. If his unwanted guests were here with intentions of physical violence, then he highly doubts they would have stopped at the door. So instead of preparing for a fight, he just has to prepare to be annoyed to Heaven and back.

Honestly, if not for all the weaker servants present in his home, he'd probably prefer if they just came here to fight.

Sometimes he kind of wishes his father never retired from his position as Head of House. Rating Games are far less bothersome a lifestyle than this crap.

Soon enough, there is another knock on his door, and this Time Erika doesn't just burst straight in.

"Enter," he commands, his voice deep and powerful. As is expected of his station.

The door opens and for a second Time this night, Erika steps into his office. This Time however, her expression is aloof and subdued, as is expected of her station.

Following her, three cloaked figures of no notable heights enter. Two of them he can tell right away are no match for him in terms of power, but the one in the lead remains entirely elusive to his senses. Naturally, this is the one he focuses on.

He watches them walk to the centre of his office under a tense silence. Erika closes the door behind them and takes up position beside it, prepared to flank them just in case this does turn violent.

For nearly a minute, not a word is spoken. Diehauser simply stares at these uninvited guests in silence, his own expression hard and cold, affixed with a glare for those that would intrude on his home.

Eventually, the figure in the lead, flanked by their peers, speaks up. A woman, by the voice. Clearly of the aristocracy too by the inflection, which is in line with his expectations.

"Do you trust your maid, Lord Belial?"

Diehauser's eyes narrow further at the first words spoken, and he deliberately waits to respond.

It's tiring and not something that he cares for, but he does know how this 'game' is played. It may not be the Rating Game that he has championed, but Diehauser is competent enough.

So it is only after the silence stretches long enough to have become uncomfortable that Diehauser replies.

"Yes."

He doesn't bother demanding anything more or making any threats. There's really no point. Threats would be useless until he knows who he is dealing with and he assumes that her question is indicative that he may soon learn exactly that.

He is not disappointed.

"Good," the lead woman says, taking a small step forward before bringing her hands up to her hood.

Whatever he was expecting, it was not even close to what he got as Seekvaira Agares meets his wide-eyed stare with a small smile. One not too different to what he recalls seeing on broadcast just a mere few days ago.

What in the fuck?

Too stunned by the unexpected reveal, Diehauser is too slow to speak up, allowing Seek—it's Lady Agares now, isn't it? Allowing Lady Agares to fill the silence.

"I would first like to apologise for the subterfuge, Lord Belial. You will understand the necessity of it once I have a moment to explain." Diehauser hears her and a lot of his suspicion and hostility does fade away.

Not so much for the words themselves, but because of who is saying them. 

He has not interacted with her before as far as he can recall. However, her relationship with the Gremory and Sitri Heiresses is well known, and if nothing else, Diehauser trusts a Gremory to have good friends.

His guard is naturally still up. It would be even if the girl in front of him hadn't made such an audacious statement on live broadcast the other day. With that last bit added on however, Diehauser naturally feels a slight bit of trepidation about what getting involved with her could mean for him.

More importantly, what it could mean for his people.

House Belial only just started recovering, he doesn't need every faction in the universe pissed off at him right now.

"But first," Lady Agares continues, the gap in her speech having been short despite the many thoughts running through Diehauser's mind. "I am liable to being kicked from behind if I continue to delay. I do so love dramatic reveals~."

Her voice is a mixture of fond, friendly and teasing. He feels that most of that is directed behind her.

Curious, and admittedly still rather surprised over Lady Agares' presence even if the shock has faded, Diehauser watches the Devil in question step to the side and out of the way.

Keeping her within his periphery, because obviously he isn't going to just ignore her, Diehauser watches as one of the other figures takes an energetic step forward. Only to immediately halt and then, with movements that to his eye read as jittery from nerves, their hands leave their cloak and start to rise.

Diehauser's mind naturally gets to work immediately, noting that she is likely also a woman by her hands.

And then the hood falls down and any thought, any plan, any sense of caution immediately flees his brain as his eyes meet those of Cleria Belial.

His sister.

His dead sister.

"H-hey, Hauser," she greets him, her smile genuine, if nervous. "Been a while, huh?"

A brief, awkward silence fills the air as he fails to respond. His mind too busy analysing the sight before him to formulate any words.

Her eyes. Her face and expression. Aura and demeanour. It's all the same.

It's her.

It's really her.

Diehauser isn't even consciously aware of his own movement before finding himself flung over his desk, uncaring of what he knocks down, and throwing himself straight into Cleria and wrapping his arms tightly around her.

He hugs her firmly, almost desperately. As if terrified that she would disappear if he let go.

He doesn't know how long that moment lasts, simply holding his little sister again and feeling as if the weight of the entire sky had fled his shoulders. But eventually, his reverie is broken by a soft laughter, wetted by tears, and he pulls back only enough to press his forehead against Cleria's.

He realises that she is crying only in Time enough to realise that he is crying with her.

"Y-you're still such a baby," Cleria chokes a laugh mixed with a sob as she speaks. Her voice playful and not at all matching the white-knuckled grip she also has on his clothes. "Crying all the T-Time."

A similar choked laugh bubbles from within him at her blatantly hypocritical words, but he does not call her out for it. Instead, his amusement rapidly fades away and back into that awful desperate hope.

"Y-you're alive?" Is all he manages at first, and she reacts as if stricken, shame colouring her features. "I-I thought..."

"I'm alive, Hauser." Her words are more steady now, and though tears still decorate her face, she meets his eyes without wavering. Squeezing him as if to affirm her words. "I'm gonna stick around this Time too."

Diehauser would have loved to have continued simply bathing in her presence, but finds Cleria gently pushing herself away from him. He obviously does not use his strength to restrict her.

Looking around, Diehauser meets the gaze of the final guest and narrows his eyes at the sight of Masaomi Yaegaki. Cleria's secret exorcist lover. 

Diehauser has long suspected that their relationship, something that only he knew about beyond the two as far as he knows, was a piece of the puzzle for her death. Disappearance, apparently.

However, he was never even able to find evidence of their relationship, let alone anything else. He only knew about it because she told him.

Masaomi raises a hand in an awkward wave, and it is only then that another fact clicks in Diehauser's brain and his eyes immediately snap back to Cleria. More specifically, to her belly. Her round belly.

Almost immediately, Diehauser's glare returns to Masaomi, and the man is wise enough to take a step back in fear.

Unfortunately for the dangerous thoughts rapidly spiralling through Diehauser's brain, he is distracted as Cleria, with a warm laugh on her lips, grabs hold of his arm and holds him back.

"Stop it!" She laughs, and he lets her pull him away. "I know there's probably a bunch of things you want to say, and I have plenty I want to tell you. So much has happened, the baby in me is only the biggest of things. But Hauser, I am here and I am not going anywhere, I promise. So just listen to Lady Agares for a bit, okay? She promised she wouldn't take long, and a lot of your questions will get answered. 'Kay?"

Diehauser takes a step away from his sister, though not so far that he has to let go of her. The physical contact is far too precious to him right now.

He notes Lady Agares taking an apparent interest in his office's bookshelf, and he won't deny feeling thankful for her at least having the propriety to pretend not to have seen him cry.

So, with one last look at his sister to ensure she is fine, Diehauser uses a brief burst of magic to clean his face. Something that attracts Lady Agares' attention away from a copy of 'The Emperor Demolition'.

Diehauser very blatantly ignores the amused tilt to her smile at him having a copy of his own book in his office. Technically, it's not like it's his book. But it is entirely about him and his demolition of the Rating Game.

He should really throw it away... It's embarrassing to have...

"Shall we sit?" Lady Agares gestures to his desk, clearly having been listening to Cleria enough to start the conversation despite her appearance of distraction.

"Lady Agares," Diehauser starts, his voice tired and weary from the emotional rollercoaster. "I really don't fucking feel like sitting right now, just get to the point."

Perhaps he should have been more diplomatic, but his sister has just come back from the dead and he really isn't in the mood to be doing anything but interacting with her.

A noise that could generously be called a snort leaves Lady Agares as she nods acquiescently.

"Very well. I do love the drama of all this, but I am not without consideration, so I shall be brief." She takes a breath, meeting his eyes without an inch of hesitation, though that doesn't surprise him considering the speech she made to the whole world.

"A few years ago, your curious, snoopy little sister happened across a secret that she should never have known." Diehauser glances briefly at Cleria to see that odd look of embarrassed shame on her face. "Because of this, she was to be assassinated. Her relationship with Masaomi only made this easier. However, I was fortunately able to make it in Time to save her life, though Masaomi did unfortunately die for a short while."

"That was years ago," Diehauser mutters, "How old are you?"

Lady Agares' eyes narrow slightly, though whether that is because of the question or the interruption he will never know.

"Could your maid best you in combat?" She asks, voice sharp, and she continues without waiting for an answer. "Whom is the elder between you?"

Diehauser can only concede the point, even if he doesn't think it's quite the same since he is at least an adult. 

Regardless, he really doesn't give a shit anyway. He is far more concerned with who the Hell tried to kill his sister.

"Now, as I was saying. Your sister somehow managed to uncover a certain truth about the Rating Game. Tell me, have you ever heard of a King Piece?" She waits for Diehauser to shake his head in negative before continuing. "Well, originally, our Peerage Pieces came with a King Piece as well as the rest. Though, I believe only some.. ten or so were ever made. It was decided rather quickly by Ajuka Beelzebub that the King Pieces were too dangerous to produce, and no one else has the ability to replicate them as our Lord Beelzebub does."

That last part is spoken with clear amusement, for everyone knows of Ajuka's unprecedented genius.

"As for why Lord Beelzebub had such a thought, that is rather simple. The effect of a King Piece when used is to magnify the Demonic Power of its user by anywhere from ten to one hundred Times."

Diehauser's jaw drops.

What the fuck? There's no way that's true.

A one hundred Times increase in power is insane. It would be enough to turn any High-class nobody into a fighter potentially on par with the Satans.

"Of course, there is a limit," Lady Agares continues, her tone of voice as casual as if she were discussing fashion rather than state secrets. "If a being is too powerful, or in possession of an innate ability too special, then the Piece is basically worse than useless. Which is a shame, I would have quite liked to have seen what Lord Lucifer could have become, magnified by one hundred."

That is a terrifying thought, and her delivery of such a thought as if it should be exciting instead is somehow even more terrifying.

Too stunned by the revelations to speak, he can only watch Lady Agares shake her head wistfully before continuing.

"Regardless, the Great King Faction have been using the King Pieces to manipulate the Rating Game to their favour. Of the Top Ten in the Rating Game, only you and Ruval Phenex do not possess a King Piece. I'm sure you can figure out the rest, yes? The cause of the earlier subterfuge is the same as why I have taken so long to return Cleria to you. The Great King Faction needs to be dealt with properly, else it'll just cause more trouble than it's worth."

Her tone is so casual that the words she speaks almost don't register for what they are as he hears them. A conspiracy that could shake the foundations of the Underworld, spoken as if discussing the weather.

What the Hell am I getting involved with? He thinks, glancing once more at Cleria.

If what Lady Agares says is true then frankly, he doesn't want anything to do with any of it.

At least, that would have been his opinion were it not for one simple fact.

That the Great King Faction tried to kill his sister!

Lady Agares is not wrong in that he can figure out the rest.

Rating Games are an integral part of Devil Politics as well as the Underworld's economy. He knows that many formerly Human Reincarnated Devils equate the Rating Game to something like a TV show, but it is so much more than that.

If the Great King Faction has been giving out these King Pieces to the Top Ten, rigging matches and controlling the Rating Games, then that is a controversy they could not easily recover from. The cost of this information would be immense.

Enough to kill a Pure-Blooded Devil Nobility over.

But he can think about all of this later. First, the more urgent matters.

Diehauser isn't stupid. First Cleria, then all of this information? No Devil would give up so much for no reason. For free.

So Diehauser puts aside the many thoughts he has for the Time being in order to ask the most important question there is.

"What do you want from me?" He doubts he would even mind fulfilling any demand she has. No price could ever repay what Lady Agares has already done.

Her smile gains a quality to it that tells him he asked the right question.

"What indeed," she begins and her earlier words of enjoying the drama of all this comes back to mind. "What I desire of you is rather simple, Lord Belial. I want for you to reveal the existence of the King Pieces, the Great King Faction's manipulations of the Rating Game and attempted murder of Cleria here, but only when I ask you to."

With a twist of her wrist, Lady Agares pulls out a small phone and lays it down on his desk.

"Within the year, I will contact this phone. When that Time comes, I will want you to make the reveal. There are more details pertaining to it all already on the phone, feel free to peruse them at your leisure. I know you likely do not desire to delay in revenge against the Great King Faction, but we must wait for the opportune moment."

She's not wrong. A big part of him just wants to rush to the old Bael's manor and rip the haughty fossil from his throne. The Great King Faction would naturally fall apart without the Great King Bael himself present to rule it.

Still, there is one issue in all of this.

"Why?" Diehauser doubts the answer will change anything insofar as his decision making. But he'd like to know regardless. "Why do you stand against the Great King Faction? Why are you siding with my House?"

There are many potential answers he could have expected. Anything from a personal vendetta against House Bael to simply wanting to cause chaos for chaos' sake.

The answer he receives is not unexpected, but still far beyond the scope he would have guessed.

"I do not care about the Great King Faction or the status of your House, Lord Belial. Neither do you need to know the extent of my intentions. The target here, for me that is, is the New Satan Faction. After all, a scandal such as this would be quite the blemish upon the ruling Satans, no?"

Her teasing tone does not even slightly match her blatantly treasonous words. Though—

Diehauser's mind stills as he recalls a certain other little fact. That House Agares is no longer a member of the New Satan Faction as of roughly a month ago. Which would make this less treason and more war.

Once more, Diehauser Belial is not stupid.

With everything she's said so far, combined with what she has done as Head of House Agares, he is able to connect the dots. To figure out what it is exactly that she is angling for here.

With the realisation of the depth of this scheme hitting him, Diehauser is unable to hold his tongue from muttering its revelation.

"You want to force one of the Satans out of office," his words are muttered full of disbelief as he continues, "And have me take their position. You want to control a puppet among the Satans."

The smirk she sends him is downright devilish.

"To call what I desire of you puppetry would be a crass exaggeration." Her tone remains casually teasing despite the content of this discussion. "I do indeed also want for you to fill the soon to be vacant seat among the Satans, but I do not intend to be your master in the shadows. All I desire is a single thing; for a Satan to officially and legally declare House Agares lands as independent of their rule, belonging solely and entirely to House Agares from now until perpetuity. Beyond that small request, you may do as you please, even retire if you so despise the posting."

That does admittedly ease his mind somewhat. He isn't fond of the idea of being someone's puppet, and he can understand her desire for the security of her lands. Even somewhat admire her for it.

"That is all you want from me?" Diehauser asks after a short silence. "For me to release that information, use the chaos to be elected as a Satan, and then use that position to officially cede your territory from the New Satan Faction's holdings? Nothing more?" He would be willing to give more. For Cleria.

He thinks she knows this as well, but she simply nods her head.

"That is all. You get your revenge. Your justice. While I gain some security and legitimacy. A win-win. So," her grin stretches just a fraction wider as Lady Agares offers him a hand.

"Do we have a deal?"

///

Rizevim Livan Lucifer

///

What makes a Devil?

Defining any single species is hardly an easy thing to do simply. Humans have been trying and failing for millennia to define themselves, pathetic little things that they are.

Perhaps that is what he is most proud of when he calls himself a Devil? That he can answer the question.

Rizevim knows what a Devil is. What it means to be a Devil.

Such knowledge brings him endless pride. Let all these lower, worthless races of the world struggle with their understanding. So rushing to charge forward and commit to actions they themselves disagree with, all in some vain hope that someday they may learn their own identity.

It's as baffling as it is pathetic. Doubt. He couldn't imagine feeling it.

Because Rizevim knows what a Devil truly is.

A Devil is evil. Wicked. They are brutal and vile and scum. They are wrong. Chaotic and cruel.

Yes. To be a Devil is to be the opposite of 'good'. They are the 'bad guys' of the story.

Which is why it so sickens him to see what those kids calling themselves Satans are doing these days. 

Really, peace? With Heaven?

Peace by itself would be ridiculous, but with Heaven? He had a good laugh at that. Devils are chaotic after all, and this is certainly an unexpected turn of events, which makes it all rather amusing.

Regardless, he hadn't any real intention to interfere with the matter. He figured it'd be more fun to let the peace form and watch it for a century or two. If it doesn't simply crumble into itself and actually manages to settle, that would be when he'd have come out to remind them all what a Devil is.

However, Times are ever changing, and Rizevim has come to learn that there are actually two types of Devil.

Don't get him wrong, they're all the same in the end. They're all 'evil'. It's rather more a difference in flavour.

He himself naturally favours chaos. Unpredictable brutality. 

Keeps people on their toes. Plus it allows him to enjoy each and every whim as they come.

But a Devil can be orderly too, strange as it may seem. A Devil can either be a monster, or they can be a contract.

'The Devil is in the details,' as they say. He snorts, amused. There are a lot of phrases about Devils. He's personally fond of 'Better the Devil you know'. He does find it oh so wonderfully ironic, because there is no Devil worse than him.

He always ensures that those lesser beings he interacts with learn fully and properly that the Devil they know should be feared over any manner of unknown.

A particularly screechy scream pulls Rizevim from his thoughts.

"Must you be so loud?" Rizevim asks, turning away from the burning city below.

The room he is in is the top floor of King Tepes' palace. High enough to give a good view of the Vampire city and the thousand Evil Dragons currently burning it to the ground.

The room itself is large, he's sure it must serve some grand purpose, but he really doesn't care about that. All that matters are four of the individuals present.

Euclid Lucifuge, his ever faithful right hand stands beside him, as useful as ever.

Crom Cruach, the Crescent Circle Dragon and the strongest Evil Dragon stands near his other side in human form. Having been leaning against a shattered window and watching the unfolding chaos alongside Rizevim, the Dragon also finds himself disturbed by the noise.

The source of the annoying shrieking however, comes from the Primal Eclipse Dragon, Apophis and the Diabolism Thousand Dragon, Aži Dahāka. Apophis being in the form of a handsome brown skinned man, while Aži Dahāka has chosen to remain a full three-headed Dragon.

To be more precise, the source of the sound is King Tepes, who appears to be in the process of having his organs pulled from his body and animated into bloodthirsty little things to tear the rest of his apart.

"I've been dead for who knows how long," Aži Dahāka responds, voice full of malicious glee. "I think I'm owed some fun."

Shaking his head in wry amusement, Rizevim turns away from the Evil Dragon and back to the burning city.

It pleases him, to watch this unfold, and he finds his hand rising to cover his smile with the chalice in his hand.

"I fail to see the plan here," Crom Cruach comments, casting a brief look his way. Tone neither curious nor chiding. A mere idle comment.

"Hence why I do the planning," Rizevim responds easily, noting how the Dragon's eyes narrow even as its lips turn upward. He lets the words hang in the air for a while before speaking again. "No need to worry yourself, Lord Crom. I will grant you your wildest desires, have no doubt of that."

The Dragon shrugs and they lapse back into silence. Well, as silent as it can be when a city burns by a thousand Dragons as a man is tortured behind them.

He rather likens it to a day at the opera.

Rizevim turns his eyes as a cloud of darkness envelops a portion of the city below, and his smile widens. "Well then, it appears the Time has come for you to declare us, Euclid."

"So it would seem, Lord Rizevim," Euclid responds promptly. He holds one of his hands forward, clenching and unclenching it, causing a small cloud of darkness to form and disappear at will. "I am quite curious how a replica can hold up to the original. Are you sure I cannot kill the Gremory girl? My dear sister would pursue us quite doggedly should the child perish in horrible agony."

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Rizevim chuckles, waving a hand. His voice remains casual. Friendly, even as it leaks with malice. "Little Rias still has a use. Do what you want with the rest of her Peerage though. Tear them to shreds before her eyes if you wish. Really, it only matters that she lives. Whether she does so traumatised or in one piece is hardly a concern."

Euclid sends him a happy smile before stepping past the threshold of the broken window they are watching from and flying off in the direction of the Gremory's Peerage. Where he will announce the existence of their new organisation, Qlippoth and their organisation's goals under the banner of Khaos Brigade.

The goal of course being chaos and destruction. Terrorism not as a means but as the end goal itself.

Let's see how you react to that. Come ye all and despair~.

"And that's that!" Rizevim exclaims with a clap of his hands. He casts one final look at the ruined city. It will be some Time still before the rampaging Evil Dragons are stopped, and by then he expects little to be left of Romania as a whole. It's not like they'll stop with just one city after all.

But then again, maybe someone like Sirzechs will show up and save the day? Who knows~? Who cares~?

"We'd best be leaving now," Rizevim continues, projecting his voice enough to ensure the two Dragons torturing King Tepes actually hear him.

"Feel free to bring your toy if you don't want to throw it away~."

///

Yasaka

///

The ethereal plane of Takamagahara is as resplendent as it ever was as Yasaka sits and enjoys another sip of Divine tea.

It is not often that she has the honour of visiting this land, where the foundation is not dirt but clouds. Where the land obeys no law of Earth, but of the Divine. Where grand, beautiful structures stand, not unlike her own and those of Reverse Tokyo. Just larger and even more wondrous.

She does so love it here. Not just the land or the view, but the very air itself carries with it a purity that feels as if her very soul is bathing in a warm spring.

But no matter how she loves it here, the realm of the Gods is not easily entered, so she savours the chances when they come.

In that, Yasaka finds herself grateful to the ever young Lady Agares once again. For it was her audacious words that inspired this gathering in the first place.

Yasaka looks up from her tea to briefly glimpse the face of Amaterasu-Ōmikami seated across from her. As with every other Time she has had the honour of being in her presence, Yasaka once more affirms how Amaterasu-Ōmikami embodies the idea of 'Divine Beauty'. 

Her features can only be described as perfect, with flawless skin that glows softly with warm light. Her eyes are closed in peace at the moment as they await more guests, but Yasaka knows of the ball of fire that burns within those orbs. Twin suns in the place one might have eyes.

They are seated in one of Takamagahara's many gardens. A beautiful place out of a fairy tale or a fantastical painting. With Amaterasu-sama sits two others either side of her, though separated by a comfortable distance, as space is naturally no premium here.

Her brothers, Tsukuyomi-sama and Susano'o-sama. Both polar opposites in almost every way.

Susano'o-sama is wild and strong. His kimono hangs off of one shoulder to expose a toned, muscular body as he swigs from a gourd of saké. 

Tsukuyomi-sama on the other hand is soft and delicate. Dressed in a long and modest kimono of silver-white, he gently sips at his tea only from behind a long sleeve. As if witnessing his mouth move at all is too improper for him to bear. 

Where Susano'o-sama's face is rough and handsome. A roguish charm that promises both danger and excitement, Tsukuyomi-sama's face is delicate. Feminine and soft, as if untouched by anything rougher than the clouds.

It makes for quite the contrast.

Susano'o-sama notices her attention, being the only Kami present not sitting with closed eyes, but he merely dismisses her with a huff and says nothing. She thinks that he is still holding a grudge over her refusing his advances some Time ago.

It is not as if she is adverse to the idea, quite the contrary really. Kitsune did not gain their reputation from nothing, she is hardly a prude. 

Alas, it really was just poor timing back then. But Susano'o-sama's mood is as temperamental as the winds and the rains and as unforgiving as the sea. It is not in him to overcome a grudge, yet Yasaka also understands that like the sea, there will be a day that he simply forgives and forgets. No warning, no rhyme or reason. He will simply forget his anger as quick as it came.

She wonders if he will proposition her again on that day. She likely wouldn't refuse a second Time if his timing were to improve.

Laying with a God is always an enjoyable experience after all. One she has managed to enjoy far too few Times in her opinion.

Regardless, Yasaka allows her mind to wander away from the subject as she notes a third party enter the garden in which they sit. The Principal Clans.

Absently, Yasaka turns an eye to her own third of this triumvirate between the Gods, Humans and Yōkai. More specifically, she turns her attention to Nurarihyon beside her. 

He is far older than she is after all. From back before their Yōkai factions managed a sort of peace with the Principal Clans. A lot of that old prejudice still remains within the ancient being.

Neither of them came alone either. Nurarihyon sitting with Jorōgumo beside him while she herself has Sōjōbō by her side, the Daitengu older still than all but the Gods present. Luckily with less prejudice.

Either way, Yasaka highly doubts that Nurarihyon will act poorly here of all places, so she puts the matter out of her mind and returns her focus to the approaching humans.

Despite being mere humans approaching Gods and monsters, the aura of power that flows from the group is no wilting flame brushing against them. 

After all, these humans are all the latest generation of Sacred Beast inheritors, recently having each risen to positions of leadership within their respective clans.

Very recently in one particular case, Yasaka thinks to herself as her eyes fall on the latest Suzaku Himejima.

She has some suspicions about the girl's recent usurpation of Suou Himejima, but that is just a personal curiosity. It doesn't really matter to her the internal dealings of a Principal Clan.

Regardless, at the head of the group is Ouryuu Nakiri. A young man reputed as The Strongest Ouryuu in History. A title well earned, as Yasaka would go as far as to say that he is the strongest human alive.

She doesn't believe the Church's propaganda about their exorcists.

Nakiri is the eldest of the coming humans and one of two males, the other being Seiryuu Kushihashi, who is actually still the Heir to his Clan unlike the others. Leaving the young Genbu Doumon and Suzuka as the female half.

Notably, there is no Shinra present, the fifth of the Principal Clans. Yasaka briefly glances at Amaterasu-Ōmikami before turning her attention back to her tea and pretending she wasn't thinking about anything.

It's none of her business, really. She mostly just finds it somewhat amusing. Schadenfreude, she believes is the word.

After all, the Shinra Clan has had an unfortunate number of high ranking members converting or otherwise cavorting with the Abrahamic Pantheon lately. So their exclusion from many matters, such as this meeting, is a blatant showing of the Shinra's lost favour.

Yasaka certainly isn't going to mourn a Principal Clan falling from grace. She may not hate them as Nurarihyon still does, but she doesn't exactly hold any positive feelings for them either.

Pleasant greetings are exchanged, every possible courtesy being adhered to before their gathering can begin in earnest.

"I believe all present should be aware of the purpose of this meeting?" Amaterasu-Ōmikami, glancing between them with eyes that could be mistaken as childishly aloof.

"That Devil girl's speech," Nurarihyon comments with an amused snort. "You want to make a team?"

"Oh don't act so coy," Susano'o-sama speaks up, looking derisively down on her fellow Yōkai leader. "I know that little could be expected of you, Nurarihyon-kyō, but you are at least not foolish enough to disregard the Excalibur."

Nurarihyon shrugs and smiles meaningfully without a word. A response that has Susano'o narrowing his eyes briefly before dismissing the Yōkai and turning his attention to the human party.

"Nakiri. You're not too bad. Join me." No one particularly reacts to either Susano'o-sama's discourteousness nor his directness, as his attitude is well known to them. Well, except for Genbu who seems rather shy.

"I would be honoured, Susano'o-sama," is the Ouryuu's quickly given diplomatic response. Smart enough to know to tread lightly around Susano'o-sama's temper. "However, I would like to hear Amaterasu-sama's intentions on the matter before making any commitments."

Susano'o-sama clicks his tongue but says nothing more, allowing the ever calm Amaterasu-Ōmikami to reply.

"Lady Agares has displayed too tempting of a prize," their Supreme Ruler begins. "Five Excalibur equivalent artifacts... It is a significant prize. So I will not allow multiple Shinto teams to participate. Victory is more important, and so only our strongest will join, myself included. Susano'o-kun, Tsukuyomi-kun and I each will elect whomsoever we deem fitting for the role and work together to achieve victory. The rewards therein reaped shall then be dispensed each according to contribution."

Ah. Yasaka understands.

Like any other faction, the Shinto Pantheon is not entirely unified. There will always be disagreements in any organisation.

But from Amaterasu-Ōmikami's perspective as the leader of the Faction, Shinto victory is what matters most. Not which piece of Shinto specifically that manages to gain such a lucrative prize.

But if she were to simply gather the strongest beings within the faction under her banner, then many would likely refuse and wish to participate with their own team. Susano'o-sama would likely be among this number.

After all, why do so much work just for Amaterasu-Ōmikami to benefit when they could instead work by themselves and reap all the rewards by their lonesome?

But by splitting their team like this, it allows for Amaterasu-Ōmikami to gather a team of only the most powerful beings nominally loyal to her. The only risk on her part is that if her third underperforms—or more than a third really, as it seems Tsukuyomi's part will be lesser just because of the math—then she could end up not having any rewards to give to her most loyal subjects.

But again, that is no true issue for her. Strengthening the faction as a whole is more important to a good leader.

There is a certain logic to it, one that Yasaka highly doubts is unique to her faction. Most likely, the other Pantheons will make similar decisions. Which only means that the competition will be even more fierce, though she would have expected nothing less with the prize on offer.

What are you after, I wonder, Yasaka thinks to herself, a certain green-haired Devil appearing in her mind's eye.

She won't claim to be excessively close to Lady Agares, but neither are they distant. They've even had a few enjoyable nights together in recent years, but that hardly means anything. They are not humans as to have such a strange relationship with sex. Yasaka oft imagines that humans view board games about the same as most other races view sex. 

Though perhaps she is biased. Yasaka is a Kitsune after all.

Regardless, Yasaka has always understood since their first interaction that Seekvaira Agares is first and foremost, a Devil. A schemer and a planner. A woman whose actions only ever make complete sense in hindsight simply because her plans always possess more steps to them than one would expect them to.

It's just a shame that despite knowing this, Yasaka has no idea what her intentions are with all of this. Probably something absurd, knowing the girl.

"And I want a new sword," Susano'o-sama continues off from his sister, turning dangerous eyes to the Ouryuu. "So ya better not fuck up."

She'd almost pity the human if not for the simple fact that she cares not a single whit about him.

"The Gods that will participate have already been chosen," Amaterasu-Ōmikami continues as if Susano'o-sama said nothing. "Inari-dono and Tenjin-san with myself. Hachiman, Takemikazuchi, Fūjin and Raijin with Susano'o-kun. Suijin and Ebisu with Tsukuyomi-kun. Now, I would like to invite you, Yasaka-chan and you, Sōjōbō-dono to join myself, as well as you, Suzaku Himejima-chan."

Yasaka finds no surprise at the offer towards both herself and Sōjōbō but she, alongside near everyone else present, expresses some surprise at the invitation to the Suzaku.

The girl is certainly the second strongest of the humans under the Shinto banner, but Yasaka would have expected Amaterasu-Ōmikami to invite another God such as Jizō before her. She must see something in the human that they do not. 

"I would be honoured, Amaterasu-sama." The Suzaku's bowed response is expected, and naturally followed by Yasaka and Sōjōbō both agreeing. They have both been supporters of Amaterasu-Ōmikami for a long Time after all, it would be strange for them to separate now.

"I do hope I'm not being left out," Nurarihyon interjects, his voice casual and playful as he obviously knows the truth. A fact that is confirmed a moment later as Tsukuyomi-sama nods, still without ever opening his eyes.

"You will be with me."

Nurarihyon simply nods. For just as Yasaka has long been a supporter of Amaterasu-Ōmikami, so too has Nurarihyon supported Tsukuyomi-sama.

And so, their full team has been decided. An affair that Yasaka imagines to have been done with far greater simplicity than will be seen within the other Pantheons.

"Then the matter is closed." Amaterasu-Ōmikami's voice has no hardness to it, but there is still a note of finality that none question. "What remains to be discussed is the matter of the training—" Susano'o-sama scoffs at the word but Amaterasu-Ōmikami does not so much as pause. "—that will be required. The competition next year is certain to be fierce, and so our team must learn of one another's abilities and how to, at the very least, not get in one another's way."

Tsukuyomi speaks up then, his voice soft and effeminate. Almost whispering, as if his words could be carried away with the breeze.

"Information will also be useful." His eyes open for the first Time since Yasaka sat down. Two orbs of celestial silver bouncing between them like shining mirrors. "Find out who we will be facing. Guesses can be made, but certainties will be preferable."

"However," Amaterasu-Ōmikami picks the conversation back up from her brother, "That discussion shall be for later, as we have another guest who shall be arriving shortly for a brief discussion, courtesy of Yasaka-chan. It would appear that Lady Agares herself has a matter she wishes to discuss with us."

There is a mix of surprise and intrigue at the words, as well as a fair few glances her way, but none speak. After all, they all have functioning brains. There is no need to ask for clarification.

One does not demand explanation from a God easily besides. Yasaka is sure that they were only informed this much because it would set a poor precedent if they were to react with surprise to Seekvaira's arrival. A show of weakness that cannot be allowed in present circumstance.

Yasaka honestly finds that rather amusing. The inter-faction political sphere has been pretty stagnant for a long Time now. Such considerations wouldn't have been made so delicately before.

It is amusing how a single Devil, a teenaged one at that, has reawoken the political minds of the world.

She can't deny that it's livened things up lately. They are all past due some excitement.

Soon enough, the subject of much recent talk does arrive, her presence unhidden and unmistakable for anything but what it is.

Though, with that being said, the only thing that Yasaka can feel from the girl is the tell-tale feel of a Devil. How powerful she truly is remains entirely hidden from her senses.

Regardless, they all watch with varying expressions as Seekvaira Agares is led into the garden with her servants Akeno Himejima and Kuroka Agareka at her heels. 

Yasaka has to resist showing her amusement at the reminder of Kuroka's chosen name. Such blatant dedication to her King is as adorable as it is amusing.

Seekvaira Agares comes to a stop before their table. It is plenty large enough to have remained spacious with all present, and the seating had already been arranged so as to leave a side free, though Yasaka suspects that most present are only now noticing this.

"Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Amaterasu-Ōmikami." Seekvaira begins with a bow. Low enough to be respectful and proper, but not so low as to be deferring. Her smile remains as attractive as ever, showing both nobility and welcome. "It is an honour to view Takamagahara with my own eyes. You have a beautiful home."

"Your words honour us," Amaterasu-Ōmikami replies with a slight nod, and Yasaka finds herself resisting a double take as she hears it.

The typical response she would have expected would have been more akin to 'Your words do us favour' or some such. Actually mentioning honour in this context implies an entirely different message. It means that Amaterasu-Ōmikami is taking this seriously. She isn't treating Seekvaira as an overly ambitious or otherwise foolhardy Devil but as an actual, real political figure.

Good.

Yasaka certainly does not disapprove, but she had doubted that anyone but her would be taking Seekvaira as seriously as they should. She is glad to be proven wrong in this instance.

"I bid you welcome," Amaterasu-Ōmikami continues, unknowing of Yasaka's thoughts as she gestures for the Devils to seat themselves.

Despite her mild surprise at their welcome, Yasaka also does not fail to notice the brief exchange of glances between the two Himejima present, nor does she miss the way Nurarihyon eyes Kuroka.

Bringing those two as her aides today is certainly a bold move. An unnecessary risk. Not a large risk, mind, but an unnecessary one nonetheless. It would be all too easy for someone to take offence or cause an argument.

Yasaka knows that Seekvaira would not have missed this, which only leaves her feeling anxious about what the Devil girl is planning.

As much as she finds Seekvaira's scheming to be amusing, the fact remains that dealing with such schemers is rarely anything but irritating for all the thought that is required to analyse each and every action.

"So I gotta ask," Susano'o-sama speaks, entirely ignoring any sense of decorum or proper courtesy. Mainly by speaking over Amaterasu-Ōmikami, but even without that it would be rude. Not that Yasaka would have expected any less from the God, and Seekvaira's face remains a mask of calm nobility throughout. "How'd ya manage to get the Lady of the Lake working for ya? What manner of Deal could you have possibly stricken?"

The question itself is a good one, even if the tone with which it was delivered could have used work. It is something that Yasaka is sure many have been wondering the answer to.

After all, the Fae Folk withdrew from the world over a thousand years ago and haven't been seen since. Any who have tried to force a meeting with them has disappeared without a trace and not a word of what they have been doing has spread. It is as if one moment they existed and the next they did not.

By now, it was widely accepted that the Fae had tired of this world and simply left. Likely travelling through the Gap in search of something they could not understand if they tried.

The Fae have always been a unique species even among the Supernatural factions after all. Any who claimed to understand them entirely was little more than a liar.

Yet, here stands Seekvaira Agares with the Lady of the Lake as a servant in her Peerage. Literally every aspect of that sentence is unbelievable, yet it is true. Such a deception would not have held if it were otherwise.

Which means that the Fae haven't left entirely but merely been in isolation. Further, it means that somehow, Seekvaira has managed to contact a race that entire Pantheons have failed to find whisper of.

Seekvaira raises a hand shortly in a gesture that can be understood as a shrug, though Yasaka would swear that there was a hint of excitement to the girl's eyes for but only a moment.

"Nothing so grand," Seekvaira defers, brushing the matter away as if it is not so significant. "We had a long chat and came to have a certain understanding of one another. She joined me on the basis of a challenge, but she serves me on the basis of a mutual respect. That is all."

"A challenge?" Susano'o-sama's brow raises and his tone holds slight disappointment as he swigs from his gourd. "So ya just bested her at somethin' and now she does what you say?"

Seekvaira's smile grows amused as she regards the God as one might an amusingly foolhardy child. "The challenge in question is still ongoing. She will follow me until its conclusion, wherein she will either serve me eternal when I win, or my body and soul shall become an ingredient in the forging of her greatest work yet should I fail."

That... Yasaka's eyes narrow and she finds similar expressions falling upon the rest of them listening to those words.

That is not something to be spoken of so simply. To make such a deal...

Seekvaira notices the change in the air but waves a dismissive hand and smiles disarmingly at them before they can come to the wrong conclusions.

"Have no concern, Viviane herself has admitted that I tricked her. That is where the mutual respect comes from. The Deal is already won."

A breath of tension leaves the garden at those words. Deals with Fae have always been something to be approached with even greater concern than a Deal with a Devil, ironically enough. Plus, no one wants to start working with someone who is liable to having their soul turned into a sword.

Susano'o-sama naturally remains an exception, as he seems rather pleased by her answer.

Yasaka wonders how intentional that was on Seekvaira's part. 

Tsk. This is why schemers are so irritating to deal with.

"I am glad of your success then." Amaterasu-Ōmikami interjects into the silent air, pulling the conversation back to relevant topics now that Susano'o-sama has exhausted his curiosity. "I would be further gladdened to know the purpose of your visit, Agares-kyō."

-kyō? Amaterasu-Ōmikami really is taking her seriously. Because unlike Susano'o-sama who used the suffix to insult Nurarihyon, she is clearly using it in its intended use, more akin to -dono than anything else. A title for equals of status.

Using a title like that also has the added point of effectively recognising Seekvaira as the leader of her own independent faction instead of subordinate to the New Satans.

"A purpose I will be equally gladdened to share, Amaterasu-Ōmikami." It's an interesting use of honorific Yasaka only now recognises. By using her official title, Seekvaira avoids both degrading her own position by choosing safely and using -sama whilst also avoiding any insult for the presumptuousness of using -dono to call them equals. It's a way to keep them on even footing without bristling any pride.

Once again, Yasaka is left wondering how intentional that distinction is. It truly amuses her how annoying this is.

"First, I would begin by sharing a small matter of relevance." Seekvaira phrases her words almost like a question, pitching up at the end as she turns to regard Yasaka herself. 

Naturally, Yasaka nods without trouble. It's a genuine struggle to keep herself from smiling too widely, because from her point of view, with everything that she knows, there is absolutely no reason to hide the deal they made. Nor is there a reason for knowledge of this deal spreading to lead to anything at all, and thus no reason for her to hesitate in allowing Seekvaira to share the details.

Yet, despite all of that, Yasaka is certain that she is playing into some game of the young Devil's. Being used as a pawn in some grand design.

She'd be offended if not for how deeply she already owed Seekvaira for all she has done for her people. Plus, Yasaka can't deny that she is simply oh so curious what Seekvaira's end goal will look like. When will she stop?

Will she ever be satisfied?

Hmph, truly a Devil to the core, she thinks with deep amusement. So full of 'sin'.

Perhaps that would bother her if she cared one whit about what the Abrahamics considered sinful. What kind of life would there be without lust? Truly absurd those people are.

"Yasaka-chan and I recently entered a contract with one another," Seekvaira begins, getting some raised brows at the form of address. Yasaka also wonders if the use of -chan also serves some deeper meaning or if this Time it truly was just for fun. "A deal whose details are mostly unimportant here but for one concession made on Yasaka-chan's behalf to me. That of a small territory given to me and my House."

The deal in question was mostly about trade. Guarantees of fair pricing and neutral, unbiased trade as well as access to distant markets and such. Nothing overly grand or special really. The only part of the deal that really stood out as beyond the norm was Seekvaira's desire for a small landhold. No larger than what would be needed to construct a small village, or a particularly large manor.

It stood out as strange to her because she does not get the feeling that Seekvaira desires to expand her lands like some sort of conqueror. But the price was small and the benefit large, so Yasaka accepted it.

That seems to be a recurring train of thought with Seekvaira. One can only wonder what one could hope to gain by making so many deals balanced against them. Yasaka hides a smile at the thought.

"As you may be aware, my House has recently ceded from the New Satan Faction, becoming independent." She says the words as if anyone has not seen the absurd little speech she gave. "In this, I would like to open some trade with foreign markets. My House has plenty of wealth to begin such things with minimal hassle after all, and having a defensible location to centre my trade from without fear of instability is preferable."

Yasaka wonders how aware the rest at this table are of the truth behind Seekvaira's words. Specifically about her House's wealth. It is rather absurd the level of wealth available to House Agares. Such a fact only becomes intimidating with the knowledge that all of that wealth is in the hands of a woman like Seekvaira.

Alas, wealth alone is insufficient in this world. Perhaps amongst the ignorant humans wealth alone becomes power. Not here. Though, Yasaka doesn't think that that is much of a concern for Seekvaira.

"Which is where I can circle back to my presence here," Seekvaira continues without pause, ignorant of Yasaka's thoughts. Her eyes do not stray from Amaterasu-Ōmikami's no matter the words she speaks. "Stability is the main issue on my mind you see. Legitimacy. It is something that I value for those serving under me. Which is why I would like you to make an official statement declaring the land given to me to belong fully and entirely to House Agares from now into perpetuity."

Yasaka watches the varied reactions around her. Those that understand the implications and wider reaches of the request are easy to separate from those who do not. Though, it is only some of the humans that fail to see it.

After all, it is hardly concealed. It is one thing for Seekvaira and her to make a deal ceding some land from her faction to House Agares. It is another thing entirely to ask Amaterasu-Ōmikami to cede any claim to that same land.

The Shinto Pantheon hold a claim to all Japanese lands that supersedes any claims made by her Yōkai of the human Clans. Accepting a deal like this would mean a Pantheon giving away a piece of its land by right, even if only a small bite of it.

That is simply not something that happens. The names of who rules the lands has changed many Times over the eras, but the actual territorial lines of the universe's Pantheons has not changed since around the Mesopotamians' fall. Even if a certain monotheistic faith has spread like a plague with its worshippers claiming much land beyond their remit.

Beyond that, there comes the question of why Seekvaira would feel the need to have her territory officially ceded to her? It is unnecessary, which can only mean that there is a deeper reason, and that has the potential to be dangerous.

One must keep in mind, this is not a matter as simple as borders between human nations. A Pantheon's border holds power. Ceding land, officially ceding land is far more significant than it would be among humans. Especially done so in perpetuity.

In the worst case example where war came between them, even if House Agares was wiped out, the land that was given to her would have to be annihilated entirely. Because if Seekvaira gets what she wants and it is given to her in perpetuity, then there is nothing that anyone but a Head of House Agares would be able to do to reclaim it. Not fully.

But none speak up despite all of this. Understanding the delicate importance of what is said next enough to leave such things for their Ruler.

"A curious request," Amaterasu-Ōmikami begins slowly, her voice cautious. "You ask much and offer little. One must wonder what you would intend with a territory of your own so entwined with mine. As well as what you believe you could offer of equal exchange for such a thing?"

Perhaps in a more foolish court, Seekvaira's words would have already been dismissed and disregarded. Yasaka can see that at least two of the humans present desire such a response.

But anyone with a brain can tell that Seekvaira has one also. Which can only mean that she does have something to offer. Something of value enough that she believes she has a chance of having such a complicated request met.

It's not like the cession of such a small plot of land is truly a great cost after all. It is not the price that is really being negotiated here. What matters is the image.

Seekvaira could easily make an offer worth the land she desires. Of that, there is no question. It wouldn't even be expensive, not for her. The question at hand is if she can offer something of value to the loss of image that would come with the cession.

It's a more complicated price. There is more to such things than is obvious at first glance.

When one is making a deal, if what is being asked for is merely material, then the price for such things need only be material. But when what is being asked for is reputation, then suddenly the price is far less simple.

After all, if they were seen to be giving up land, truly giving it up, in exchange for something as measly as money? They would be a laughing stock. It would be a humiliation that would burn for a thousand years. 

No. When what is at stake is reputation, what is offered must be something that has reputation inherently entwined with it. 

But Yasaka already thinks highly of Seekvaira. That is why she is not surprised that the Devil would have an answer ready. Even if she never would have guessed the hand that Seekvaira is so clearly happy to play in a million years.

"Ame-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi." Seekvaira speaks the name like ringing a bell, a faint satisfaction sneaking through her poise at the reaction doing so garners. "Better known as Kusanagi. The Grass-Cutting Sword. Pulled from the corpse of Yamata no Orochi by the hands of Susano'o-Ōkami. An impressive tale." The Devil nods respectfully in the God's direction as she says his name.

Her use of -Ōkami confirms Yasaka's earlier thoughts of how she chose to address Amaterasu-Ōmikami, but that is hardly something to focus on at the moment.

"What of it?" Amaterasu-Ōmikami asks what they are all thinking, a faint frostiness to her tone. Unwelcoming to the mention of their shame.

"Peace," Seekvaira responds, her hands raised lightly and smile unwavering in the face of sudden hostility. "I am aware that it is broken. I offer its repair as my price."

Yasaka blinks as a state of realisation hits her.

Right. She has the Lady of the Lake serving her, doesn't she?

That fact had completely slipped her mind. A misstep on her part. Well, a mistake that they all seem to share as the sudden hostility fades as quick as it came. In its place, the opposite comes.

Kusanagi being broken is a deep shame to them all. Having it repaired would certainly be a significant boon. It would also make the trade of land bearable. No faction would see any shame in giving up worthless land in exchange for the restoration of one of their most sacred artifacts.

Even further, such a repair would give the boon of advantage in Seekvaira's coming tournament. Kusanagi is a powerful sword.

"You believe such a thing is possible?" Amaterasu-Ōmikami asks, any hostility gone from her tone and a seed of optimism taking its place. It's not like they haven't tried to repair the sword after all. They have simply been unable to. "We are not without smiths. How confident are you that you will fare any different?"

"Certain." Seekvaira's response is instant and without a shred of doubt. 

With that, well, there is no longer reason to doubt. The cost of being wrong after claiming a certainty is far too great for Seekvaira to do so without actually being certain. So even if they may not know where such confidence comes from, none of them doubt it.

"And all you would ask for this boon is to be made the official claimant of the land already given to you by Yasaka-san?" Normally, Amaterasu-Ōmikami's words wouldn't be wise, for one should never be so clear in a negotiation that the other party could be asking more of them.

But it is clear that Seekvaira is already aware of this, so it hardly matters. Rather, directly—at least as close to directly as one gets during a negotiation. Directly mentioning it forces Seekvaira to give her own thoughts on the matter, which has the potential to be revealing.

"Indeed," Seekvaira replies with a smile. Once more agreeing to a deal not at all in her favour without hesitation. The more she sees it happen, the more Yasaka's intrigue starts to bubble over into fear, however slight. But hey, what's life without a bit of fear? Keeps things exciting~.

"However, there is one other thing," Seekvaira continues, casual. A weight of expectation in the air as she turns to regard the humans present. "A separate deal to be made, or perhaps a continual. I would be further gladdened to have a similar landhold bequeathed to me within lands held collectively by the Principal Clans. In exchange for this, I would be willing to work both with and without the Abrahamic factions to reduce the influence of the Church within Japan and reignite the proper worship of their ancestral Pantheon. Though, I would hope for such a thing to remain in confidence."

Another deal both dangerous and weighted against her.

Yasaka doesn't have to observe the others to know that this deal, along with the rest, will be accepted.

Seekvaira manages to balance the fine line of offering enough for little to be too enticing to refuse without offering so much for so little as to become overly suspicious to the point of rejection. It is impressive.

If Yasaka were not already many centuries old and in possession of the patience that comes with such Time, she would be bursting at the seams with the curiosity of what is going on inside of that girl's mind.

Nobody but a fool or someone with grander plans ahead would consistently make deals and exchanges of favour as poorly in their favour as she has done, and Seekvaira is no fool.

She is working towards something.

Perhaps one day she might find out what.

Perhaps one day, someone might deny her and reveal some hint of it.

Today will not be that day.

///

Katerea Leviathan

///

Deep inside an expansive castle hidden away in the Underworld, Katerea sits within a vast room crowned with luxury befitting her status as a True Satan.

Within, four Devils sit. The other three being the only living beings that Katerea will ever consider as equals. For they are the ones who hold the blood of the original four Satans.

Asmodeus. Beelzebub. Lucifer, and Leviathan.

"Isn't it demeaning?" Creuserey Asmodeus fills the air with the sound of his voice, the arrogant sneer within blatant to hear.

Katerea matches his gaze and turns her eyes to the centre of the table which they circle. Specifically, on the three fonts of pure power sitting between them.

Snakes of Ophis.

Katerea finds that she agrees with Creuserey. 

None of them had expected Rizevim to come out of his isolation and 'join in on the excitement', as he put it. But as the son of the original Satan Lucifer, he naturally has a seat at their table. 

Then as one of three Super Devils, he naturally has the highest seat, because power stands above all. Power that is their right by blood.

So it is demeaning to resort to imbibing the power of the Infinite, as if they are weak.

They are not. However, for all that he is a fool and a disgrace to Devilkind, Katerea will not deny that Sirzechs Gremory is strong. Too strong.

"Well, you don't have to use it if you don't want to," Rizevim replies, voice perfectly polite, smile perfectly kind and understanding and full of lies. They know the monster that lies beneath. He is a Devil, after all. "Just have it as a precaution, y'know~? I'm sure there's some saying about it, better to have and want more than to need and have nothing or something~."

"Why bother with all this?" Creuserey returns, frowning at the mere thought that his own strength would not be enough. He was always unimaginative. "You could just fight the pretender yourself. Why won't you?"

"Cuz I don' wonnaaaa~," Rizevim whines. He folds himself forward, draping himself over the large table and stretching his arms fully forward.

None of them comment on the childishness of his act.

They know what would happen if they did.

"'Sides, you'll have that brat with you," Rizevim continues, meeting Creuserey's eyes with an unwavering stare that has the Devil consciously stopping himself from shifting in his seat. "He's not bad, all things considered. I'm sure you'll be fine~. Sirzechs won't even be there right away, he's quite busy you know~?"

Katerea is aware, and she is aware of exactly why he is busy. A cruel sort of satisfaction wells within her at the thought of it.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to include him?" Shalba Beelzebub's cool, aloof voice interjects.

"It'll be fine~," Rizevim once more reassures. "Besides, isn't it hilarious~? Damn brat hates me more than anything. Having him following my orders without realising it is just the best~. It's gonna be so funny when he realises it~. The face he'll make~. Hehehe, golly gosh, I really can't wait~. But even ignoring all that, having the White Dragon Emperor on your side will certainly make things easier. Half-breed though he may be, the brat is plenty strong enough to be useful~."

"Half-breed of Lucifer blood is still better than those Reincarnated filth Ajuka spawned," Katerea cuts in. "So long as Serafall is mine, I don't care who else joins in. I will personally end that insult on my name."

The familiar burning pang of white-hot hatred flashes through her just from mentioning that bitch's name. The way she parades herself under the name Leviathan would be bad enough without all the stupid magical girl bullshit.

Katerea hates that woman in a way she has never hated anything else before or since. She will see her die, no matter what it takes. Even if it means consuming one of Ophis' Snakes.

Not that she believes such a thing will be necessary. She is the True Leviathan, after all. It is already a foregone conclusion that she will win.

"Mm! Mm!" Rizevim nods with his hums like a child agreeing. "I doubt anyone has a problem with that~. So, everyone's in agreement then?"

"I still do not see why you will be abstaining." Shalba once again queries, earning the full weight of Rizevim's gaze.

"There are other matters that require my attention." The sudden shift from childish tone to smooth, flat and dangerous has all of them unconsciously straightening. "I trust that isn't a problem? No? Good. Oh, and be sure to mention Khaos Brigade once or twice."

With those parting words, Rizevim stands and leaves without so much as a nod of acknowledgement. Not that he needs to do such a thing.

They all heard him, and he already knows they will listen. Because he is the strongest of them.

Katerea doesn't understand why he has been insistent on leaking their allegiance with Khaos Brigade during the attack, but she doesn't really care either, so she hasn't questioned it.

It doesn't matter.

All that matters is that the fakers are trying to make peace.

All that matters is that they stop that. That they remind the world that it is Devilkind that stand above all.

///

Gasper Vladi

///

A tense, heavy pall of negativity hangs in the air like a smog. He feels it as a sting in his eyes. A clammy sweat on his skin. A choking burn in his lungs.

He had failed.

Loss itself is nothing new to him. It is familiar. Lady Agares taught it to him well.

But this?

This is the one thing he could not lose. The one loss he could not accept.

Asia is dead. Kiba nearly died. Xenovia.. he knows she will recover, eventually. It will take Time, a lot of it. Years, probably. But he knows that she will never be the same. That she has been changed. That those soft and bubbly curves of her soul have been sharpened into something hard.

Something broken.

And Rias?

In some ways, she came out worse than the rest of them, as she is the only one whose physical wounds cannot be fixed by a Phenex Tear. 

They tried, obviously they tried. It even worked, just not enough. 

She had lost an arm. That much came back. But the eye?

The eye won't come back. It won't ever be healed.

But he knows that she probably hasn't spared a thought to her own injury. That that wound is nothing compared to the fracture on her spirit.

They had nearly died.

Asia did die. She's gone. Forever.

Dead.

And Gasper knows that that single fact is a greater wound than anything that could have been carved into her flesh. He knows that it will be a long, long Time before she will be able to move past it.

He feels like he should be mourning with them all, and he is. Just not as much.

He didn't cry quite as long. Didn't scream quite as loud or protest quite as much.

He just.. he didn't act the same.

And they noticed. None of them have said anything, but he saw their eyes.

It's just...

It's so difficult. Because he does mourn. He did cry. He would do anything to bring Asia back. To undo what Xenovia suffered. He would do anything for them.

But they just don't understand. They can't understand. It is impossible.

It's impossible for them to understand that he already has given them everything.

It's impossible for them to understand as he does the truth of that idiom that Time heals all wounds. They just can't understand him. How he can still be optimistic. Still think that life can be good.

Because it can. It will.

The pain will be sharp now, it will hurt. But it will dull with Time, and then it will fade.

It won't be quick. It won't be fun either. It'll hurt every step of the way, like walking a path made of glass.

But there is an end. Even if it's years and years away.

They aren't humans. They have years to spare.

What about a century from now? Will the pain still be so sharp then? Of course not.

It will still exist. He doubts he will ever stop mourning for Asia. But there is more to life than pain, and he feels like it would be incredibly insulting to everything Asia believed in to allow her memory to become nothing more than a source of pain.

He doesn't blame them from steering away from him. They are all so young, it's only natural.

He knows, in Time, that they will understand. That they will forgive him for not crying as deeply as them.

He knows it.

He hopes it. Because somewhere, in some deep, dark recess of his mind, there is that wriggling, writhing doubt. Curdling and eating away at the pit of his soul like a cancer. Because what if they don't? What if they never forgive him? If they come to believe that he does not care for them as deeply as they do him?

He can't accept a future like that. Because he does love them, more dearly than they know.

Perhaps more than that, the reason he just can't accept it, is because he has already given them his everything. They do not know it only because he has never told them. But he has.

He gave his soul to Lady Agares and let her pull and twist and shred at it until it was purged of all weakness. Until he was strong enough to protect them. To protect Rias just from a loveless marriage.

A problem that seems oh so small nowadays. Some part of him thinks they should have just listened to Venelana Gremory from the beginning. She is wiser than she is given credit.

So he can't be wrong. His beloved family cannot abandon him.

Because then it would have all been for nothing. Without them, he would be nothing.

There wouldn't be a 'Gasper Vladi' left. Just a husk.

A wry, depressed type of humour fills him as another thought comes. A picture of the face Lady Agares would make in such a future.

Because he knows that that is where he would end up. There would be nowhere else to go. 

He knows she would be expecting him, too.

A sound reaches his ears. The muffled clinking of metal beneath wood. 

Speak of the Devil.

Gasper turns his head up from where he has been leaning against a wall outside Rias' bedroom. She hasn't left it since everyone got checked out by the doctors, and since none of the others want to be around him, Gasper has taken to standing guard outside her door.

Too little, too late. As if it can make up for his failure.

As if anything can.

He's sure Xenovia would be in there with Rias, but the former human has chosen to sequester herself in the training halls instead of a bedroom. He would have offered to help if he could meet her eyes.

Seekvaira Agares exits Rias' room and turns around without glancing at him to softly close the door behind her with a click. Then she turns back, and just like Xenovia, Gasper cannot meet her eyes. Even if the reasoning is entirely different.

She is unruffled, he notes without much in the way of surprise. He hasn't seen her mask slip even once in all the Time he's known her. She has always controlled her expressions well. Always been poised. Noble.

And maybe focusing on those thoughts can distract him from that bubbling wound of doubt and self hatred crawling through him.

She steps closer. Her heels on tile resound through his skull like bells of judgement.

"Eyepatches can be cool." 

Gasper blinks and meets her eyes entirely by accident. Caught entirely off-guard by the sentence.

Her eyes do not burn or freeze. There is no scorn or hate or grief within them. 

Just those same eyes. Aloof in a way that doesn't even seem practiced, even though it almost certainly is. Eyes that anyone could meet and immediately think Noble.

He kind of hates her for that. Doesn't even know which part, really.

But he has never liked her, so it hardly matters. He has only respected her, and that hasn't changed. Not after he just stood watch as she spent two full days comforting Rias, though he doesn't know how effective she may have been.

"What?" He eventually mutters without really meaning to. Baffled, as he has expected only scorn to come from her mouth.

To be honest, he kind of expected she would just kill him for his failure. She's certainly threatened it, and he believed her.

Maybe he even wanted her to.

"Eyepatches," Seekvaira repeats, as if he didn't hear her. "Most of the classic pirate ones look dumb, but sometimes they can be really cool. Especially on a woman like Rias."

"R-right.." 

She nods, as if he was actually agreeing.

Seekvaira moves, and Gasper does not flinch. But instead of the pain or death he was expecting, her hand only comes to a rest on his shoulder.

"She will recover. Even if she has to start over, that's not even two decades." The words resonate with his own thoughts, but that is no surprise when they are spoken by the one who shaped those thoughts. "She just needs for you all to still be here by then. Understand?"

He does.

Some part of him hates her for that too.

Because that means he has to live. Again. He has to live for her again. 

"Oh, and Gasper?" Seekvaira speaks again as if remembering an afterthought. Gasper makes a sound between a hum and a grunt in question.

And then his mouth is open and expelling all the air in his lungs and pain fills his mind from the fist embedded in his stomach.

He realises that she caught him against her shoulder, but he doesn't have the strength or the will to push himself off of her fist.

"Do not," she whispers to him, close enough he feels her breath on his neck. "Fail again."

Gasper says nothing. He only nods against her, and then she pushes him away and he falls against the wall to avoid falling to the floor.

He doesn't look up to meet her eyes. Doesn't voice any complaint about the strike.

He just.. 

He just wished she had gone for the head instead.

He cries then. Only then.

When he can no longer deny it. That one, singular thought that has not left his mind, body or soul ever since that day oh so long ago that he gave all of it away because he thought it an equal price to his friend's brief happiness.

It hurts.

He doesn't hear Seekvaira walk away.

He just stands there, and he cries.

It hurts.

///

Serafall Leviathan

///

Serafall is feeling cautiously giddy.

Cautious, because she is experienced enough to know that there is always something to make her day worse. 

Giddy because they might finally have peace.

Serafall is over five hundred years old. She was born into war, and it felt for so long that that was all she would ever see. She's been dreaming of a day where her species wouldn't have to be constantly fighting and dying.

A day where Sona can grow up and live the life she wants to live. To be a teacher and spend her Time reading whatever catches her fancy instead of being forced to train until she bleeds just so that she can kill some other Devil who has been forced to train until they bled so that they could kill her.

Humans like to say that war is Hell. She gets it, understands the meaning. She doesn't like the idiom though.

Because Hell is home. Hell is so much more than brimstone.

But war truly is the worst of all things. It's been so long since she really had to fight, but Serafall knows that she still carries scars from it. They all do, even if their flesh remains unblemished.

She has to work with Sirzechs knowing that he is fucking Heaven damned Grayfia! Serafall doesn't give a fuck if the bitch is on their side now. It's not like she's 'redeemed' or anything. She's still a Lucifuge. She just decided that Sirzechs was a better Lucifer than anyone else.

While so many Devils may be willing to forget or forgive, Serafall will never be able to look at the cunt without seeing the faces of her friends that died, frozen to ice by her hand.

But she can ignore it. 

She can put on a mask and pretend she doesn't want to kill the bitch or yell at the idiot for putting a baby in her.

For Sona.

Everything she does, she does for Sona. So that her adorable little sister can live a life of her own choosing. Safe. Happy. Free.

Serafall doesn't want Sona to ever have to bear as many scars as she does.

So now that the first true step in that direction is right before her? Well, Serafall can be forgiven for being too excited to really mourn for Sirzechs and his sister.

It's not like they're that close anyway. They're just work colleagues that get along well enough and sometimes bond about their cute sisters. Though it's more like a bragging competition.

So she does feel bad for them, just not enough to dedicate any of her Time to it beyond the typical consoling words.

Still, Serafall only cares about Rias insomuch as Rias' status affects Sona's mood. She cares even less about the girl's Peerage, and she certainly isn't going to mourn a former nun that she's never even met.

So many of her friends have died in war that she barely has any left. They were killed by Devils supporting the Old Ways. They were killed by Angels, Fallen or otherwise, and they were killed by members of the Church.

So she just doesn't care. If anything, she might be a teeny bit vindictive about it.

But, again, she can put all of that aside. She can wear a mask and she can pretend.

For Sona.

///

Azazel

///

The day of the peace conference. It feels oddly normal, for how significant today will be.

Azazel sits within Lady Agares' conference room, and he can admit to being impressed. Not by the luxury of course, that much is part and parcel really, but by the fact that it sits in Japan.

He assumed that she would want him to gather everyone at her territory in the Underworld. After all, House Agares did not have any significant enough holdings outside of the Underworld to house such a gathering as this.

Yet here they are.

He wonders how long she has been preparing this little acquisition. It can't have been long, not if she was preparing for this specific meeting, but Azazel is long past the point of underestimating her.

So here he sits, one side of a large square table centred in a tall room surrounded by windows that show the mountainous scenery around them. Baraqiel and Shemhazai both stand behind him at his sides.

Opposite him sits the delegation from Heaven. Michael sits as he does, with Uriel and Dulio Gesualdo standing at his sides.

Azazel is deeply upset that Gabriel didn't come. He missed a chance to get another good look at those heavenly peaks! It's so sad! Even the chance to observe Dulio Gesualdo, the famed strongest of the Church and wielder of the Longinus, Zenith Tempest, doesn't make up for it.

To his right sits none other than Seekvaira Agares. Eyes closed, hands folded neatly and posture perfectly refined. By her sides she has her Queen, the ever intimidating Tiamat and the Yōkai, Kuroka Agareka.

It's a struggle not to show his amusement at the name. He had a good laugh when he heard her announce it so proudly.

Azazel even sent a proud, respectful nod Seekvaira's way. She has good taste, and don't think he can't sniff out the relation there. She might keep herself poised and refined, but Azazel knows what's going on there. He just can't prove it, but he knows.

And he approves!

It makes him feel like there's a kindred spirit hidden somewhere deep inside all of the mystery that surrounds that Devil.

His thoughts are cut off by the sound of double doors being swung open cutting through the anticipatory silence that had been brewing. He turns left to see twin servants holding the double doors open as the final party arrives.

Serafall leads, flanked by Ajuka and Falbium. They also obviously came with a contingent of soldiers that are currently in the air with both his Fallen Angels and Heaven's unfallen Angels.

It's odd not to see Sirzechs in the lead, but he's heard what happened with the Vampires, and more importantly, what happened to Rias. So he understands the absence.

He's the Satan of Internal Affairs anyway. The four of them are technically equals, as Sirzechs is only the unofficial leader, so there aren't any real problems from his absence. Ajuka's presence certainly dissolves the possibility of any thoughts suggesting that the Devils are looking down on them.

There's no way Ajuka would be here instead of his lab otherwise. Azazel feels much the same.

Alas, needs must and all.

Serafall freezes at the entryway. Only briefly, very very briefly. So brief he isn't even sure if anyone else noticed it. Azazel only saw it in the first place because he was ogling her breasts with deep intent.

But the moment that her eyes noticed Lady Agares, there was a very very brief stutter to her step.

That's interesting~.

Azazel doesn't say anything of course. He just watches as they step through and Lady Agares greets them.

"Satans Leviathan, Asmodeus and Beelzebub of the New Satan Faction. I bid you the welcome and hospitality of House Agares."

Once again making the separation between herself and the New Satan Faction as clear as possible. Hilarious. This girl really just doesn't stop, does she?

Well, he supposes that she is still young. Still got that drive to her. It's almost inspiring. Makes him want to try again.

"Yes," Serafall responds, her voice and expression perfectly polite. But now that he knows what to look for, Azazel can see a faint tenseness to her. "On behalf of all Devils, I thank you for the surprising hospitality."

Her eyes flick to Azazel, as he's the one who set up the meeting location, and he gives an innocent smile back.

If I'd have known, perhaps I would have bartered differently, he thinks to himself, but doesn't say out loud. There'd be no point to it. He got played, plain and simple, and now he's going to have to do something to stop Serafall from glaring at him in the future.

..Wait a second. 

Like a bolt of inspiration, several disparate pieces of information suddenly slot into place within Azazel's mind.

Through his intensive spying network, Azazel has known that Seekvaira supposedly had a 'close' relationship with Rias Gremory, as well as an ambiguous one with Ravel Phenex. 

But he's obviously put some more effort into digging up information on her lately, and he has found that Seekvaira has very few personal relationships. But of those she does have, other than Sairaorg, they are all girls of a similar age, and with each of them, there has been rumour and gossip about their friendships being more than just friendship.

It's no big deal really, nothing new or special. Only important because of the names involved. Names like Sona Sitri. Serafall's beloved little sister.

So, hypothetically, what if Seekvaira has had such a relationship with Sona? No doubt, Serafall would be unhappy about anyone stealing away her adorable little sister, and at this point, Azazel doesn't doubt that Seekvaira would have been capable of thwarting any attempts from Serafall to separate them.

But if Sona were to be aware of her sister trying to separate her from a 'friend', she would likely be upset, thus causing a small rift in their relationship. That rift would result in Serafall directing her frustration at Seekvaira.

And now, that frustration has been directed at him for setting this conference up to be overseen by Seekvaira without telling her. Which means that he'll have to do something to make it up to her. 

Nothing big of course. It's not like he's actually in the wrong in the first place. He could do nothing and it wouldn't matter in the slightest.

But Azazel wants this peace to be smooth. For it to work. Which means that there can't be dissidence. Which means he would naturally do something to make up for the small slight. And considering the nature of it all, his 'apology' would most likely be some small gift to Sona. Maybe upgrading one of the girl's Sacred Gears a little bit.

That would make Serafall forgive him, even generate further positivity that puts the relationship in his favour. It could also do some work to mending any sisterly rift, such a thing wouldn't last long anyway.

Azazel has to try very hard to avoid bursting out in genuine laughter, his bright eyes flicking unconsciously to Seekvaira.

She's using me to make up with Serafall for her. Is that something she planned intentionally or just a side-benefit? How manipulative~.

"Now, I believe that is everyone?" Seekvaira asks as she stands, palms flat on the table. It's not really a question, and no one answers. "In which case, I, Seekvaira Agares of House Agares, declare myself as neutral witness and moderator of the following proceedings, by tripartisan agreement."

This Time, Azazel fails to withhold his snort, and seeing all eyes turn to him, he just lets a few of his chuckles out to let the amusement fade quicker.

You really just don't stop, he thinks with joy, and how can he not?

She just declared herself moderator by tripartisan agreement. There was no tripartisan agreement. She just said it. And what are they gonna do? Start an argument? Here? Now?

No, they won't. Her words aren't against any of their interests, so the risk of causing a fuss right now is just not worth it at all. Which means that they will say nothing. Which is basically the same as all three of them agreeing that they recognise House Agares as a neutral third party intermediary between them all.

She's playing a dangerous game here, but she's doing it with total confidence. It's honestly amazing. Azazel is having a blast these days.

He waves a dismissive hand to the eyes turned his way. "Sorry sorry~, just so happy we could all be here, y'know? War is such a drag~."

His words are accepted well enough. His personality is known.

Still, his eyes meet Seekvaira's. Just briefly, only for a moment. But he swears that for that brief moment, she smirks at him.

A kindred spirit indeed. She knows exactly what she's doing.

"Well said, Governor-General Azazel," Seekvaira speaks up again, her voice smooth and refined. Not at all intimidated or quieted by the identities surrounding her. "And as the—"

She is cut off abruptly by an explosion from somewhere outside, fierce enough to rattle the windows. Immediately following, they all perk up as several rather large presences appear all at once. Including one that Azazel easily recognises.

The Hell are you doing here, Vali?

"Hmph, more than I figured," Serafall comments, not even bothering getting to her feet as she glares at the distant auras. 

None of them rise or react really much in any way at all. It's not like they didn't expect that someone would try. It was more a question of if any spies are deep enough to have known where and when to attack.

Which, evidently..

At least they should be able to apprehend those spies from this.

"S'pose we should go greet them, Lord Michael?" Dulio speaks up, calm and a bit cocky as he lazily smirks at the Seraph.

However, before he can respond, Seekvaira holds up a hand and speaks instead.

"There is no need, Mr. Gesualdo. I am the host of this event, and I will ensure its security. There is no need for any of House Agares' guests to fight."

A bold statement, considering who's attacking. There are some impressive auras out there.

"You sure you can handle it?" Serafall counters, touching on the line of propriety. "Feels like the Old Satan Faction to me. At least a few Ultimate-class opponents."

"Only a few," Seekvaira easily counters, unbothered.

"Regardless of your confidence," Michael interjects, voice soft but firm. "I would not feel right leaving those not of my Faction to fight for me."

"Me too," Azazel agrees, mostly for fun really. "We're the ones being attacked, I'd hate to miss the fun."

Seekvaira smiles and then lets out a soft, friendly sigh.

"If that is what you wish," she says, speaking as if admitting defeat. "You are guests here, not prisoners. Do as you will, I am only here to moderate."

It's nice to see something not go her way for once. So with that positivity guiding him, Azazel turns to his Cadres behind him and grins at them.

"How 'bout you go have fun~?"

They both nod, with varying levels of enthusiasm, and turn to depart. At the same Time, Michael says much the same and Serafall nods to her companions. Seekvaira also spares a glance to Kuroka that has the Yōkai heading to the exit, as if to guide them to battle.

Soon enough, the only ones that remain are Azazel, his peers, Seekvaira and Tiamat.

"Now, as I was saying," Seekvaira continues as if never interrupted. "As the initiator of these talks, I invite Governor-General Azazel to begin them."

Eh? Azazel laughs and shakes his head, but shrugs and takes the invitation to speak.

"Y'know what? Yeah. No reason to stop just for these losers," he jerks a thumb at the fighting beginning outside. "So let's talk peace."

Still, Azazel's eyes find Seekvaira again, briefly. He assumes she wanted to take full credit for repelling the attack, which means that them sending out their own people should have put a dent in that plan of hers.

Yet.. he still can't help but feel like she wanted them to. As if her show of reluctance was an act and they just gave her exactly what she wants. He just has no idea what that is.

Shaking the thought away, he ignores them for now. There are more important matters.

And so, with battle raging around them, the peace talks between the three Abrahamic Factions pass without interruption. None of the enemies make it through, and no allies fall, and the treaty is signed.

Until eventually?

Peace.

At last.

///

Rizevim Livan Lucifer

///

Whistling a merry tune to himself, Rizevim bounces with good humour as he thinks on the failures of the Old Satan Faction. Well, not that there is much of them left.

Truly, what a spectacular failure on their part. Now the Three Factions are at peace, they're even at peace with the Vampires too for some reason. He doesn't really get how that works, since he kinda broke the Vampires recently.

He doesn't really care either. It doesn't matter. The Old Satan Faction was never going to win anyway.

They were just pawns to be sacrificed for a greater goal.

Still whistling, Rizevim pushes open the door to his solar and steps inside. Only, he pauses three steps in as he notices a robed figure already seated in his chair, flanked by two more robed figures.

"Kya~, uninvited guests~," his voice remains flat despite the words, though his smile is genuine. He wasn't expecting guests, but he does so love surprises. "Who might you be?"

The seated figure raises her hands, and it is clearly a her by that alone, and she pushes them against the hood of her cloak and pulls it down.

Shining, crimson eyes meet him alongside long, pale green hair.

Rizevim blinks.

A stranger turns familiar. Memories that he does not remember forgetting flood his mind.

"My Lady Agares," he speaks without thinking. As if by instinct, he dips his head respectfully. "Thy will be done~."

"Always so pleased with your words, Rizevim." She speaks as if they've talked a lot, but he doesn't recall a single conversation. He just feels like he should stand still and do as he's told. "Report."

"Hmm~, I'd say things are on track," he responds without hesitation. He isn't quite sure what the track is though. "The idiot Satan-spawns mentioned Khaos Brigade close enough for someone from each faction to have heard it—Oh, that's why I said that. Huh. Y'know, I'm having a real weird experience right now."

"I'm sure," is her dry response. A slight twitch of the lip the only proof of her amusement. "The rest?"

"Right, well, Qlippoth is up and running, no problems there. Ophis is as docile as always. I think she's looking forward to your tournament. Wants to scout for talent probably. I can keep her from interfering. Hades seems to be acting exactly how you figured he would, so there shouldn't be any problems on that side. Uhh, right, Azazel claimed that the White Dragon Emperor was undercover for him, so the brat's all square, but I guess you already knew that part, huh?"

"Good." Seekvaira pushes herself to her feet and saunters around his desk. Her companions follow. Rizevim doesn't move. "Things are going to get a bit dicey from now on, so be on your toes. I don't want you dying until my most opportune moment, do you understand?"

"'Course!" He immediately agrees without thought. "Hey, mind if I ask something?"

Seekvaira raises a brow. "I am a Devil. I am doing this because I'm greedy. Because I'm lustful. Because I'm envious and gluttonous and prideful. I will have everything, and that requires Time and careful opportunism. That is why."

Rizevim smiles wider. She answered his question without him even asking it. Combine that with the memories he is suddenly so familiar with only now that he is in her presence, and Rizevim can put two and two together.

He opens his mouth to ask, but she interrupts him before he can speak.

"Yes, you've asked me that before." She pauses only long enough for him to be about to speak before interrupting again. "This is the fifth Time."

He meets her eyes, she meets his. He smiles, she smiles. Neither of them feel it.

"Am I real?" Rizevim eventually asks. 

"You're not a clone or a puppet." Seekvaira answers. "Are you familiar with the ship of Theseus? If you can answer that, then you can answer your own question."

At that, Rizevim can only laugh. "What a depressing thought~. I don't suppose I can keep my mind this Time?"

Seekvaira raises a single perfectly manicured brow. "Don't worry," she comforts, voice soft and slow. Comforting as she leans closer to finish her thought in a whisper. "No need to worry yourself, Rizevim. I will see your wildest desires come true, have no doubt of that."

Then she simply leans away and turns on her heel and leaves without so much as a backwards glance. One of her companions steps before him and raises a hand up to his forehead. A gleaming, wrought iron nail appears hovering before their palm, glowing with Holy energy.

"Guess not, huh?" Is all he says before the nail strikes forward and then—

Rizevim blinks.

Whistling a merry tune to himself, Rizevim walks to his desk and drops himself down into his chair, smirking as he thinks of the failures of the Old Satan Faction and of his plans for the future.

Without thinking, he pulls a chalice to his lips and presses it against his smirk as his mind vibrates in eager anticipation, impatiently waiting for the opportune moment that he knows will come.

"Ahh~, I can't wait~."

///

Act II: Close