"The master wants to see you..." The demon's dark, melodic voice startled Soraya and she opened her eyes quickly. In comparison to Nira's kiss, it was a rather rough awakening, interrupting her already forgotten dreams. She lifted a hand to rub the sleep out of her eyes and was stopped by the ropes that still tied her hands to the bed.
The light falling into the room through the windows was rather gray, so Soraya suspected that it was quite early in the morning. After he left her yesterday, full of yearning, she tossed and turned for quite some time before calming down enough to sleep and finding a position in which sleeping was comfortable. His intention, she figured, had been to prevent her from touching herself. As to why, she had no idea.
"Untie me, then" Soraya simply replied in a dry tone, shooting him a sleepy, annoyed look. She was slightly disappointed that all feeling in his eyes was gone again. No hint of his personality remained. Now at least she knew it was there and she only needed to find it again, unless a possibility of escape opened up. In that case, she had -- sadly -- more important things to do.
Like a prisoner kept for ransom, she was treated exceptionally well, but the midwife had hinted that gold might not be the master's purpose. To her knowledge, there were not too many possibilities left. For all her and Nira's claims to be 'just servants', they either knew their lord quite well or had more information that they let on.
With a flick of his wrist, the demon removed the ropes magically. Under the sheets, Soraya covered her naked chest out of modesty, as was expected at home. It was pointless, of course, since the demon had seen and touched her before, but she wasn't about to give in. She folded back her blanket and sat up. Nira hurried to her side to help her up and escort her to the bathroom.
Steam rose out of the tub, indicating that the servant had already filled it with deliciously warm water. Soraya allowed Nira to undress her and stepped down into the water. Sitting down, the water reached her chin.
"Nira... What does the master want with me?" Soraya asked the talkative servant, turning her head to see the woman standing at the shelf, choosing a flask.
"No idea..." Nira replied, apparently focused on her task, as she didn't turn until after choosing a flask with a blue liquid.
"You do know a lot, I am certain..." the princess insisted.
"Yes, but I won't risk drawing the master's wrath. Especially not today. He was very displeased -- before you ask, I really have no clue -- and I hope for your sake that he has calmed down before you reach him. Not that bathing and dressing take long..." Nira said while shampooing the princess's hair. For the moment, the young woman gave up, as she did not want to put the servant at any risk. She could have been given a much worse maidservant.
Not an hour later, after a hurried bath, Soraya followed the demon through the castle. She wore a marvelous dress made up of several layers of dark blue fabric, everyone a different shade. The train of every layer, even the ones not visible to the eye, was masterfully embroidered with different landscapes and the heavy belt of silver brocade complemented it. While those embellishments on the dress could have been prepared, the tailor surely worked all night to have the garment fitting by morning, which left her wondering how hard the demon's whip drove him. At least, the demon had labeled her 'presentable', which hopefully meant he liked the garment.
The castle itself wasn't dark or moldy, as she would have imagined a demon master's lair to be, but brightly lit and comfortable. There were rugs and curtains everywhere, huge glass windows and tasteful décor, whereas the stories told of dingy, dank dungeons, skulls and dried blood everywhere. Either the stories of those lairs were just stories or this demon liked to live comfortably.
The demon led her into a room that, while with a high ceiling and rather spacious, was no throne room. More a mixture between audience room, library and work room that smelled of dust, books and some alchemical ingredients she couldn't identify. With his back to them, a man stood in front of a high desk over a strange hole in the floor. It wasn't structural failure, as the edges were finished. Coming closer, Soraya also spotted stairs going down into the hole.
The master looked like an average size man with dark brown hair. When he turned, the princess could see that he'd made an effort to show his demonic nature, as the parts of his eyes that should have been white were a dark red. This made a chill run down her spine. Almost as if picking up upon her mood, then he blinked and the red retreated. His irises were still disturbingly red; but now at least there was the normal, human looking white in his eyes.
"Soraya Liane Norell of Dawmer... A pleasure..." the master greeted her, extending his hand. "My name is Nerach and as you surely have guessed I reign over the beautiful land of Noorveld. I am pleased to greet you as my guest."
The princess bit her lip to prevent herself from giving him a withering reply. Instead, she just tilted her head in barely existing acknowledgement, ignoring the outstretched hand.
The master did not seem to expect a reply nor was he offended by her rejection. "I do realize that my invitation did not exactly follow protocol. However, I require your presence and your assistance. Please, come closer..."
Still silent, Soraya approached the hole as instructed and sucked in a sharp breath. On the floor beneath her -- or more likely, in the cavern -- stood hundreds of soldiers. All were transparent, as if made of glass. Infantry with spear and sword, arbalesters, cavalry and chariots, unmoving, as if frozen. With the exception of their officers, they all had the same faces, the same armor and weapons.
"Marvelous, aren't they?" With his words, Nerach interrupted the princess' thoughts. "By the way -- I appreciate that you are not interrupting me and holding back annoying, obvious questions like 'Who are you?' and 'What do you want to do with me?'. I don't mind you pestering my servants but since there are things I need you to know, I will explain some things to you. If you still have questions after I'm finished, I shall consider them..."
Soraya crossed her arms defiantly, still silent, but he didn't even look at her and continued. He seemed quite self-centered and liked to hear himself talk, the princess decided. Maybe, at some point, she could use that against him. If it wasn't -- as he claimed -- just part of his plan.
"What you see down there are... Well, a sort of homunculi. Artificial beings, created with magic, called 'daimonion' by their creator. They were created by a long dead god whose name is of no importance. She used parts of herself and her slain children, usually hair, to form an army, more glorious any other ever seen, to fight us, the demons. They say hell knows no fury than a woman scorned... In case you are wondering, long ago, my kind was created similarly by the gods -- as servants, but we were not meant to bow, but to rule."
"Magic, you see, is inherent in gods as it is in demons. Humans, however, do not possess any magic, unless they are descendants of the former and their magic is awakened... let's say 'in the tradition of their ancestor'." Just then, Nerach turned to face her. He took a moment to study her from head to toe. Surprisingly, he didn't comment on what he saw. "In you, my dear -- to prevent the obvious 'why me'- question -- flows the blood of said god. Only one of her descendants survived the war and later founded the kingdom of Dawmer..."
Soraya had known that the first king of her country had been called Dawn, but that he had been a god, was new to her. Was it a deliberate evasion or had her people just forgotten? His next words would maybe explain.
"You never wondered why you aren't allowed to rule yourself?" A cold grin spread over the demonic master's face when he saw interest sparkling in Soraya's eyes and her concentrated frown.
"Actually, I did..." she confessed. Not just, because it was the truth, but also because she suspected it was what he wanted to hear. She knew the law, of course, but didn't know about it's origins.
"You see, humans are an ungrateful lot. After the war, the god's child was the only one capable of controlling his mother's army. Despite his most benevolent rule -- or so the stories say -- they feared the power he wielded and they feared him. Any offspring would inherit his power. Saddened by the mistrust of his people, he made a deal with them. As long as the inheritance would continue over his bloodline, he would continue to protect Dawmer and the kingdom would retain the possible protection of this army, should he die. His descendants, however, would never rule again, so the army would never be used to oppress his own subjects. When the council of elders agreed, a constitution of your kingdom was signed and he abdicated, leaving a daughter to be married to the future king."
Nerach seemed rather gleeful, enjoying Soraya's discomfort at hearing her story. It was much too close to what Nira had said about good and evil being political labels and she liked it even less that, in this story, the elders' council could hardly be labeled 'good'. Rejecting a benevolent god was surely not in the best interest of her people.
