In the Shadows

The flutter of wings echoed through the chamber. A raven perched on the arm of a man who's emerald eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. He lifted a paper out of the holster on the raven before it flew away. Jet black feathers glimmered in the faint light coming from the singular hole in the ceiling. In the center of the room, illuminated by black candles, was a man dressed in black robes praying at an altar. Red trickled down from the stone altar where a woman laid. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, her face contorted in horror and rage. Ravens crowded around her, picking at the corpse. The man with emerald eyes shifted his attention away from them to the man kneeling on the floor. The kneeling man had his eyes closed, holding one hand out with the other on his arm above his wrist.

"Master, the attack on the hunting festival has concluded."

"Is that so? How did it go?"

"There were no casualties among the nobles, but we lost a Redhorn."

"Not… One?"

"No. The two kings killed all the chimeras."

The man stood up, he turned around and stared at the other. "That's fine."

His voice echoed, laden with frustration and disappointment. The man with the emerald eyes flinched, then was seemingly forced to his knees. Glowing magenta eyes bore down on him with rage.

The heavy thudding of boots filled the room. The man on the floor shuddered with each approaching step. A moment later, the crunching sound of metal against bone resounded through the chamber.

"Didn't I tell you to create a rift between them? Not bring them closer together!"

"I apologize, my liege…"

The man knelt down, clasping his subordinate's bleeding face. His voice turned soothing and smooth. "It's okay Blackwing. It's not your fault. Those pawns don't know how to follow orders like you do. Isn't that right?"

Rose colored eyes bore into him, coaxing him. "That's… Correct my liege."

"That's right. You're the only one I can trust to do my bidding Blackwing. Everyone else is just a pawn. So send some more out to fix your mistake, okay?" The threat made Blackwing's injured jaw throb more.

"I will."

"Good, very good. You do such a good job for me. Tell me, who am I?" The sigil in his rose eyes shone brighter as Blackwing froze.

"You are… My liege. My master."

"To those dumb mutts outside, who am I?"

"His holiness, the Apostle."

"That's right." The symbol in his eyes faded and Blackwing relaxed. "There's a Purplefang working with the high priest right?"

"Yes, and a few of the clergy are disciples."

"Then get them to antagonize the church. Make it a holy crusade." He stood up and laughed. "The high priest is a greedy old geezer! As long as he believes he can sit on the throne, we can get him to bathe the capital in fire. Influence the nobles too, make them all against the two kings. If we can't have a war with the demon kingdom then we'll make a civil war!"

"What should we do if another noble ends up like Viscount Brandy?"

"We can always just get rid of them. Speaking of which, you did dispose of the viscount right?"

"Yes."

"It's a shame we lost such a gullible pawn, but it can't be helped, can it?"

A grin stretched across the Apostle's face. Blackwing shivered. He was the one who had ordered that Viscount Brandy would take the blame for the grand marshal's death. He had no remorse in sending people to their deaths. Demon or human, each one was disposable to him. Except for one person.

"Blackwing, you understand me right? Whether the high priest dies, or the nobles do it doesn't matter! As long as there's bloodshed!" He laughed louder, causing the birds to flee. "Spread my name across the two kingdoms. Fill them with terror, loathing, and hatred! Then that damned dragon will have no choice but to let me cross the mountains!"

"My liege, should we lend the high priest magic beasts?"

"Hm… I've never asked before, but are you alright with sending your kin to their death?"

Blackwing stood up, his feathered wings unfurling. "I will do whatever my liege orders."

"I know." The Apostle grinned. "Give the high priest the mana-sealing shackles instead. If he manages to capture the kings then it'll be useful, if not then the kings will be even more suspicious. And suspicion breeds fear."

"I understand. It is almost time for the sermon, my liege."

"Very well. Those dolts need some goal to chase after don't they? They aren't like you. Blackwing, my loyal dog, your life belongs to me, isn't that right?"

He raised his hand, cupping Blackwing's chin. Blackwing stared down at him longingly. The throbbing from his jaw was a dull ache now, an ache that echoed in his chest. Blood ran down the hand on his chin. He watched the crimson liquid slowly run down his master's arm and disappear into the darkness.

"Yes, my liege."

Veridin closed the book he was reading. Anaroth had disappeared from the palace an hour ago. He surmised it had something to do with the letter from three days ago. The shadow guards had already been alerted and were searching the capital for him. Veridin didn't mind that he left the palace without a single guard. If Anaroth had asked him, he would have allowed it. He grit his teeth. The problem was that Anaroth hadn't said a single word to him in three days!

He ran his hands through his hair, his leg twitching. An entire three days! Anaroth had been leaving the castle to influence the public, but he had even avoided Veridin when he returned. He ate in his room and didn't accept any of Veridin's invitations. Veridin leaned back, pulling at his hair. Not a single word face to face, or even through a servant. He was moments away from searching the capital himself.

"Your majesty, how about you go to a party?" Veridin glanced at Raven with a bemused and displeased look. "If you went to a noble's party, I'm sure they would be annoyed. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Hm," Veridin sat up, "Did you have some place in mind?"

"You've already received a few invitations. Earl Reifield sent one yesterday."

"A mere earl sent me an invite? Ha, they must be mocking me."

"If you show up, you can put them in their place." Raven smiled.

Veridin grinned back. It was a good suggestion. Since Anaroth wasn't here, the nobles would have to entertain him.

"It's been a while since I've been to a party. Raven, help me get ready. I can't wait to see those arrogant nobles bowing their heads."

"Of course, your majesty."

Anaroth walked up to the doors of the residence, parasol in hand. On a balcony above the entrance two people watched him.

"So he really did come. Is he stupid or arrogant? Well, we'll see. If he's smart, he'll know he has no choice but to work with us."

The guard at the door stopped him. "Do you have an invitation?"

Anaroth glanced to the side. Maybe he shouldn't have burned that letter. "I don't."

"If you don't have an invitation then go back," The guard sneered.

"I could, but I don't think your superior would appreciate you turning me down."

"If you're just a nobody, why would that matter? Come to think of it, you're rather pretty for a guy." He leaned in, putting his hand on his chin.

Anaroth grimaced. He had forgotten that these kinds of people existed. It had been a long time since someone had looked at him with such a disgusting gaze. Anaroth looked past the guard. There was a servant just behind the door listening to the whole thing. That servant would only step in at the last second. This was just a show to make themselves look better.

Anaroth looked at the guard in his face. "Keep those dirty eyes off me unless you want me to gouge them out."

"What a threat from such a pretty face."

He sighed. "Isn't the church against this kind of thing?"

"Which church?" The guard shrugged with a smirk.

Ah, so this was their game. Anaroth tilted his head, glaring at the guard. "Do you think if I killed you, the servant hiding behind that door would come out?"

"What?" The door opened and the guard glanced back. The servant standing in the door chuckled nervously.

"My apologies, your majesty. Come right this way." Anaroth shot a look at the guard before following the servant inside. "We'll fire that guard right away."

"No need. Just take me to where your master is waiting.

"Then…"

The servant led Anaroth through the residence, away from the clamor of the party in another portion of the mansion. Anaroth glanced around as they walked. The halls were decorated glamorously, close to the level of the imperial palace. This clearly wasn't either of the Duke's residences in the capital. A lower class noble shouldn't have this kind of money.

"We're here." The servant stopped in front of the room and knocked. "His majesty is here."

"Come in."

Anaroth recognized the voice before he saw the person. How could he not remember Marquis Cassian? Anaroth stepped into the room and glanced at the two nobles. They had been watching since earlier. It had been quite evident from the hunting festival that Earl Reifield had been working with the marquis. Anaroth hadn't expected them to contact him personally.

"Please, have a seat your majesty. Would you like a drink?" Cassian lifted a dark bottle of wine with a smile.

"No," Anaroth sat down on the sofa, "I don't drink during formal meetings."

"I see. That's a shame. This bottle is a vintage from three decades ago. I thought you might want to taste it."

"Human wine lacks the taste that wine from my kingdom has. I assure you, I'm not missing anything."

"What a surprise. I quite agree with you. Wine from Dravonia is much more flavorful."

Anaroth narrowed his eyes. Demons had only ever traded good with humans when towns from either side were razed to the ground. A single bottle of wine would have cost a fortune. This marquis was really spending far beyond what he should be capable of. Anaroth glanced at the earl. He was leisurely enjoying the wine. From the looks of it, this wasn't the first time he's had wine like this.

"What did you want from me, Marquis Cassian? This isn't a simple meeting, if it were, you would have invited me to the party and not to see you personally."

The marquis smiled. "As expected, you're quick and blunt. I'm sure that you know this, but the imperial palace doesn't have much power here. Why don't you work with us instead?"

"Us?"

"I speak on behalf of the nobles. No one here wants a king blinded by selflessness. A king needs dignity, support, and control, don't you think?"

"You believe the current king lacks those things?"

"Not necessarily," He swirled the wine in his cup, "His majesty certainly has the support of the masses, but that's it."

Anaroth watched him carefully. He was arrogant for a reason. He didn't know how Veridin truly behaved. He had always been able to whisper in the previous king's ear. "Why are you telling me this so openly?"

"Even if you refuse, that rogue dog of the church won't believe you." Anaroth knit his brows together; Rogue dog? "His holiness will soon bring him back under control."

Anaroth wound his hands together. So this is what they thought of their own king. A smart dog that believes in righteousness. Anaroth couldn't help but smile. He knew Cassian wasn't going to last long. "So the church is going to pull the leash on their hound?"

"Of course. A hound should always obey its master. He's been allowed to run around for a bit too long."

"I see. Give me some time to think."

"Take all the time you need. You do have a kingdom to think of after all. Why don't you join the party while you're here?"

Anaroth paused for a moment. "Very well."

"Fantastic. Reifield, why don't you return to the party with his majesty?"

The earl glanced at him, then Anaroth. The look of contempt in his eyes couldn't be masked, but coming from him, Anaroth couldn't be bothered. "Let's go then."

He walked out of the room shortly after. Anaroth followed him silently. For an earl who had learned social etiquette, he was incredibly disrespectful. His arrogance shone through more than the marquis's. He too was also enjoying a lavish lifestyle that he shouldn't be able to afford. They stopped in front of the door to the ballroom.

"You are here unofficially, will you require a mask?"

You're only asking me now? Anaroth frowned. "No need."

He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, flicking it. Mana warped the white cloth into a stunning, pure white mask. Anaroth placed it on his face swiftly and his hair faded into a midnight black. It was simple magic, but the earl's eyes widened. Anaroth grinned as he slipped past and into the party.