After two full days of rest and multiple rounds of healing, Adramelech was finally on his feet again. The sun peaked over the Cascades, lending a golden glow to the chaotic City of Denim. The mages finished painting the teleportation sigil just as the king stepped onto the rooftop.

  Freshly healed and a bit stir crazy, the king decided to travel to the farthest Dukedom as his first destination. Stepping into the circle with two bodyguards, he took a deep breath in preparation. "To Kitsi," he commanded the Mages. The circle activated with a bright, almost blinding flash.

  Teleportation in any form was taxing, be it Demonic or Primordial power, or sacrificial magic. The latter, however was by far the worst of the three options. When the bright white light faded, a luscious rainforest had replaced the broken cityscape, but Adramelech could not enjoy such splendor, as he was busy hacking and heaving, dizzy and lightheaded from the travel.

  A dozen armed demons surrounded the king and his entourage, fully guarded until the king stood upright. Immediately falling to their knees, the soldiers bowed respectfully. "Hail to the king, Adramelech the Beast!" The mages announced.

  "Your Majesty, welcome!" The Grand Duke Agares smiled as he approached. He offered a scale-covered arm to the king, his deep green reptilian eyes glistening in the sunlight. The hawk on his arm kept a menacing eye on the king's guards. "What brings you back so soon?"

  "I am drafting soldiers from your Dukedom." Adramelech cut right to the point. "Give me three of your elites, ten archers, and fifty infantry. I imagine you have at least that many available now."

  Wide-eyed, Agares took a step back and bowed his head, putting his fist against his heart. "Yes, my king," straightening his posture, he commanded one of his guards to start gathering the soldiers. "I will make sure the men will arrive in Denim by tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, may offer a meal or some company, perhaps?"

  Stroking his goatee, the king smiled, "Your concubines have always been uniquely gifted. Yes, we will stay for a meal and entertainment."

  ***

  In a drunken stupor, Adramelech stumbled through Agares's mansion, a scantily dressed demon woman on each arm. His stomach rumbled, begging for something more nutritious than wine and women.

  "You must be hungry, Your Majesty," one of the women pouted. "The feast should be done by now."

  " We can feed you while we massage your aching muscles," the other purred, pulling him towards the dining hall.

  "Mm," the king could hardly speak after drowning in countless bottles on an empty stomach. He let the concubines lead the way. Once seated, he roared, pounding his fist on the table.

  "Servants!" Agares clapped twice, and the staff poured into the dining hall with mountains of food.

  With no hesitation, Adramelech devoured the large turkey, roasted vegetables, and mashed potatoes, cramming his mouth beyond full with every bite. The women at his side held back grimaces of disgust, earning them a warning-filled glare from Agares. Straightening their postures, the two went back to pampering their master's guest, who was busy filling his craw with a second helping of meat.

  "Your Majesty," Agares folded his hands together, resting his elbows on the table, confidently meeting the king's eyes when he looked up from his meal. "If i may be so bold as to ask, what brings you to needing my soldiers so suddenly?"

  Swallowing his bite, the king wiped his face and leaned back, contemplating the pointed question. "It is not a servant's place to question his master." Adramelech reprimanded the Crocodile-Daemon. "You need not know why I have a desire, you only need to fulfill it."

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Of course, my liege," Agares opened his arms, offering a silent apology, "I only ask so I may assess your needs ahead of time, and better serve you." A low rumble escaped the king's throat, warning Agares to cut the theatrics. "In fact," the crocodilian added hastily, "You seem rather pleased with the concubines currently serving you. I welcome you to take them home with you."

  Looking over the women, the king smiled lustfully. "Remind me, Agares," He returned his glare to the duke, "Your mother was Ammit, correct?"

  "Yes, My King," a lead weight sank to the pit of Agares's stomach.

  "You've produced many offspring yourself, yes?" When Agares nodded, the king continued, "Any with that unfortunate Reaper trait?"

  "Ah," the duke smiled, his nerves starting to show as he tapped his hands on the table, "a few, but they've were all swiftly taken care of when the power merged."

  "Hm, how unfortunate, it looks like I will need to take all of your younger children back to Denim."

  "I'm afraid I don't quite follow, Your Majesty." Agares's teeth clicked as he ground them. "It was under your order that all Reaper-Demon children be executed upon trait expression, was it not?"

  A hearty laugh escaped Adramelech at the thought of Agares blindly following orders. "Don't worry, I'll only keep them until their powers emerge. As long as they behave, I'll return them to you. Unless of course, they become Reaper-Daemons. Now, it's about time we leave. Guards! Mages!" He eyed one of the concubines, sliding a claw under her chin and growling hungrily, "Ladies." She wanted to shrink back, disgusted by his touch, but instead leaned in, knowing her survival now solely depended on her ability to please The Beast. "We leave immediately!"

  Upon returning Denim, Adramelech tossed the concubines to the guards, "You know what to do with them." He commanded. With a salute, the guards hurried the woman into the castle. "That damned duke serves the worst wine! Fetch a Friskalia for my headache, then we leave for Ortha!"

  It was only late into the afternoon in Denim, where it had been around midnight in Kitsi. It would be near dawn in Ortha. "Damn it all, I hate teleporting." He massaged his temple as he waited for the Friskalia to arrive. As soon as he was treated, they left for Ortha.

  The disorientation of the teleport was made all the worse by the sun blinding them as they materialized in Ortha. Facing east had been a devastating miscalculation. "Damn it, you good for nothing mages!" The king cursed them as he rubbed his eyes.

  Turning around, they faced the estate of Grand Duke Syrach, an elegant temple with tall central tower covered in a rainbow of colors. The large estate had hundreds of smaller towers surrounding the main temple, and had been based on a remarkable complex built by the human race over a thousand years before their golden era. It was a gorgeous sight, a wonder to behold to most who were lucky enough to ever see it.

  The king was not impressed. To him, the jumbled city of Denim, with its stolen structures and chaotic layout was a much grander marvel - a capital city truly befitting an all-powerful ruler such as himself.

  The three heads of Grand Duke Syrach murmured amongst themselves as he struggled with opening the front gate. He wore a red antariya and uttariya and a black kayabandhan and pagri, all woven of fine Taveran silk. The glistening, almost bejeweled quality of the Taveran silk carried over through the dyeing process, complimenting the golden embroidery, each stitch of kevara thread carefully placed with intricate precision.

  "My king!" Syrach shouted enthusiastically when he finally opened the gate, "I did not expect you to return so soon! Please, come in, come in." Upon reaching Adramelech, Syrach's side heads grimaced at the stench of cheap wine. "I see you have already been to see Agares. Let us get you some real madhira."

  With wine in hand, Adramelech cut right to the point. "I am recruiting soldiers to bolster my forces. I need strong, loyal men. I know the humans in your territory have been attempting a rebellion, so your forces are spread out, but you will send me as many infantry as you can spare."

  "Your majesty," Syrach folded his hands and bowed deeply before standing tall and snapping his fingers. A crowd of soldiers entered the large hall and stood at attention.

  Just shorter than Adramelech, Syrach towered over his eighteen servants. "You are the best warriors I have. I know you will serve our king just as faithfully as you have served me; with unquestioning, unwaivering loyalty." Each soldier saluted, fists over their hearts, in perfect, rehearsed unison.

  "Before you go, I implore you to take some soma." Syrach presented the king with an ornate bottle of deep red liquid shimmering with golden swirls. "The gods themselves hailed it's healing affects. Though do be careful not to drink too much at one time. Just a few sips during your evening meditation."

  "That reminds me," Adramelech smiled wickedly. "I need you to test your sons' loyalties. I will be needing a high ranking officer soon."

  "Yes, Your Majesty. I will have the most loyal ready for you soon."