Chapter 11
Vic’s eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring, his grip on Harald’s armor white-knuckled. His words rang in the sacred air, and for a moment nobody moved. Incredulity and shock were writ large on every face but Harald’s—only Vic’s hissed plea had prepared him for this revelation.
Slowly, methodically, Harald pried Vic’s fingers from his front. “Start from the beginning, my dear, dear old friend.” His voice was just a little softer than iron. “What the hell have you done?”
Vic laughed and backed away, checking his hair with a couple of pats and shrugging his ostentatious robe back into place. “I swear I’m the victim here. It may not look like it—”
“Vic,” hissed Sam.
“Fine. From the beginning, shall we?” Vic glanced over his shoulder at the closed door. “Fuck me, but Sythryxa is going to be pissed.”
Kársek crossed his arms. “Not quite as biddable as you made her seem?”
Vic dragged his fingers down his face, momentarily distending his features before sighing sadly. “Karsy, no woman is ever as biddable as she seems. Free lesson. But… no. The angels wept, that demon is…”
“Vic!” Nessa’s tone was whipcrack.
“All right!” He raised his hands to forestall more attacks. “So there I was, all by my lonesome, cast out from Alabenthos’ evil lair on the 33rd Level, and left to fend by myself in this eerie, expansive realm filled with very unfriendly rock creatures—”
Harald felt everyone’s mood grow even more exasperated, but Vic plunged on.
“—when who should show but darling Eclavistra. It’s almost as if she could sense my distress. She offered to take me back to her lair, and, well, how could I refuse? She promised there’d be wine. So we returned to her boudoir, and after I satiated her unholy lust for my body, she made me an offer.”
“Cut to the chase,” commanded Harald.
“Right. So.” Vic inhaled sharply. “She introduced me to Sythryxa, who, believe you me, was a completely different demon in her mistress’ presence.
Arch, witty, clearly depraved in all the right ways, and apparently instantly smitten with me—I thought I’d died and gone to—well.
Wherever I was. The plan was simple: Eclavistra has achieved fuck-all in the dungeon, largely, I believe, because she lacks the cold-blood instinct for domination that her brothers and sisters have.
She’s all about seduction and misdirection, which’ll only get you so far in a Celestial War—”
Harald raised a brow warningly.
“I’m going, I’m getting to the good bit!
” Vic shook his head in exasperation. “Anyway. She decided seizing Flutic was her best bid at getting some sort of power. Things are heating up below, and nobody’s minding the mortals.
And you all know how much I want to fix things up here.
Match made in—well. She’d give me twenty of her Handmaidens—guys.
Seriously. They may look like they’re only interested in a little slap and tickle, but they can really hit hard.
There was a scrap with a Gold-ranker early on, House Thornvale, I think—and the Handmaidens sent him packing.
Solo, I think we could take one, but in a group?
” Vic shook his head wearily. “Anyways. I got a small battalion of Handmaidens, and was told to come up here and take charge. Which I did.”
“The Twilight Crown?” asked Nessa. “You have it?”
Vic smirked. “No. That bit’s been a lie. It’s disappeared. I think House Veridian has it, as they’re the only ones who haven’t come knocking, but ol’ Vic is still adept at the classic bluff.”
“Damn it,” muttered Nessa.
“I don’t need it!” protested Vic, taking a step forward.
“The threat is even more potent than the actual Artifact. Honestly, it’s sickening how quickly everyone up here is willing to turn on each other, and how much they fear being betrayed in turn.
They’re all falling over themselves knocking on my door, begging for a piece of the pie, trying to exact concessions and promises—”
“One moment, Vic,” cut in Kársek. “You’re still making this sound like an ideal situation for yourself.”
“But it’s not!” Vic began to pace. “Sythryxa is a living nightmare. And her sisters are just as bad. The moment we got up here they showed their true colors. Sure I have a Demon Seed, but I’m still just a fucking Level 6 Rapier Regent, something they never tire of reminding me, and they’re mad, I mean, they’re demons, of course they’re not all there, but Eclavistra made me think I’d be in charge of this operation, that I’d be able to enact my noble intentions, but do you think they care about the poor?
” Vic thumbed over his shoulder at the door.
“Ha! It took me only half a bell to realize I was nothing more than a gorgeous figurehead to their machinations and that they intended to keep me in line with a heady mixture of degenerate sex, plenty of alcohol, and a mixture of flattery and threats.” Vic swung about to face them all.
“I tried putting my foot down. Once. You know what happened? They laughed. They laughed and Sythryxa used her Velvet Mandate power to make me lick her boots clean.”
Vic puckered up in distaste. “Which I’m fine with, in certain contexts, but not when the other Handmaidens are—”
Nessa was pinching the bridge of her nose. Sam was tonguing the inside of her cheek with murder in her blue eyes. Even Kársek looked more dour and angry than Harald had ever seen.
“Vic.” He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Yeah?” Vic’s expression lightened in hope. “You guys are going to get me out of here, right? Or perhaps—”
“Vic.” Harald squeezed the Rapier Regent’s shoulder. “Shh.”
“Right.” Vic mimed sewing his lips closed, then tossing away the needle. “There. Now I can’t speak. Go right ahead.”
“You…” Harald tried to find the right words. “You are a damned idiot. I don’t know how you thought this would turn out. Where did all your basic intelligence go? You used to be smart, Vic. Eclavistra played you like… like you played me, back when we first met. How could you be so stupid?”
Vic’s smile slowly died. “I know. I know. I just hoped… after we lost the Crown and the mess at the Celestara estate, I just wanted…”
“No, Vic.” Nessa cut in, voice withering. “Tell me one thing. Could Eclavistra have sent these Handmaidens here without your help?”
Vic winced. “No. I had to invite them into Flutic. Usually there’s a whole ritual and other complicated stuff to go with it, but my having a Demon Seed simplified things. But… no. That’s what they needed me for.”
“A willing dupe,” said Sam.
“I mean—harsh. But… yeah. Fair.”
“And there’s twenty of them?” asked Harald.
Vic nodded. “They’re tough, Harry-boy. They don’t have Classes or Thrones like we do—I think they’re fueled by Eclavistra herself—but they do have specialties.
The Harrowbrides are terrifying combatants.
The Thorned Muses are like… mental or psychic manipulators.
The Veilbinders are their scouts and infiltrators.
” Vic’s face paled. “They’re hard to spot, and don’t stray far from this cathedral.
” His voice tightened with fear. “How are you going to get me out? Maybe we can come up with a fake mission, a reason I need to… no. They’d never let me go. ”
“All twenty are here?” asked Harald. “And they’re tough enough to stall a Gold-ranker?”
“Doesn’t look good, Vic,” said Kársek grimly.
“There’s got to be something! We’re the Throne Hunters, right?” Vic cuffed Harald’s shoulder with mock cheer. “All for one and all that? Nessa? Old times? You wouldn’t leave ol’ Vic at the mercy of a bunch of demon bitches, no matter how much I deserve it—right?”
Nobody spoke.
Harald sighed. “ Why do they need you so badly? Can’t they just find a more willing dupe?”
“I’m their anchor to the surface world.” Vic’s shoulders sagged. “If I die, they’re forced back into the dungeon.”
“Oh,” said Nessa brightly. “I have an idea!”
Vic glared at her.
“We’re not going to fight all twenty of them now.” Harald looked to Nessa, who nodded in agreement. “We’re not ready for that kind of battle.”
“Maybe we could find a way to smuggle me out—”
“No, Vic. You stay.” Harald released the other man’s shoulder. “We’re going to have to think of something.”
“What’s with this coronation?” asked Sam. “You don’t have the Twilight Crown?”
“It’s Sythryxa’s ploy. To flush out the Twilight Crown.
She’s made a demonic Artifact that looks just like it.
When the heads of the Houses swear allegiance to it, they’ll actually be binding themselves to Eclavistra.
” Vic somehow managed to sound even more miserable.
“It’s also meant to flush out the real Crown.
Sythryxa hopes the real owner will appear to contest my being made king.
Then they’ll grab it, claim it’s a fake, and crush all opposition. ”
“Oh, Vic,” said Sam in horror.
“I know. I know!” Vic grew animated once more.
“Which is why I’m so glad to see you guys.
I was about to do something utterly irresponsible involving veins and broken wine bottles.
Well. I was seriously starting to consider thinking about maybe entertaining the idea that I might have to act along those lines. ”
“Good,” said Nessa, expression forbidding, tone frigid. “This is bad, Vic. Bad even for you. I’m not sure you merit saving.”
“Haha,” laughed Vic weakly. “Good one.”
Nessa just stared at him.
“Look, I know I fucked up.” Vic rubbed the back of his head. “And—if you get me out of this one? I’ll turn a new leaf. I’ll become whatever you guys think is best. Holy Vic. Good ol’ fashioned celibate and upstanding Vic. I’ll give up wine. I’ll give up demonic harems. You tell me, I’ll do it.”
“If we get you out of this,” said Sam, “it won’t be because we’re trying to save you. It’ll be incidental to our saving Flutic from becoming a bastion of demonic horror.”
“Sure, silver lining, I’ll take it.” Vic beamed.