The most recent high lord skittered in on six black blade-like legs. It was a female festered with light red skin above her waist, pointed ears, and flowing purple dreadlocks that fell to her bare midriff. For whatever reason, a black blindfold covered her eyes. Everyone, including Resent, tensed up upon her entrance.


    “Why’d you all just act like the principal strolled in? Who is she?” Rodrigo had asked.


    “Dissonantia, High Lord of Maligmere. She has a rather...difficult Flair.”


    “This delay is absurd,” Resent said finally. “Even if Focron’s not taking a portal, Ruincrest is still the second nearest great city to the capital.”


    “I should have mentioned it earlier, but Focron is dead. Has been for nearly a decade now,” Ose said.


    “Who is this we’re waiting for, then?”


    Right on cue, the large doors were shoved open, and in flew the biggest imp Rodrigo had seen yet. Not so much in height, but in girth. The pink-skinned imp with four little horns sticking out from under his greasy red hair was grossly fat, and it was clearly taking a toll on him. Hyperventilating, he plopped into the last empty chair between Ose and Barbatos, then yelped, and shifted in his seat so he wasn’t sitting on his own barbed tail.


    The imp tried halfheartedly to smooth his ruffled silk shirt before shrugging in submission and looking to Resent. “Sorry for the holdup, boss. Heard about all the drama way late. The name’s Cresil.”


    “Before we begin, why exactly are we speaking in English? Particularly such an archaic form of it?” Semiazas asked.


    “Because it’s briefer,” Resent said, making Rodrigo wonder how the language had evolved over the millennia. Reading the books assigned in his literature classes from only a century or two ago was often jarring enough to force him to open a dictionary on his phone.


    “Sounds to me like you have been spending too much time among the humans of old.”


    “Oh, cease your elitist nonsense, Semiazas,” Ose snapped, his thick spotted tail swishing back and forth behind him in irritation. “You still jabber in the tongue of angels when it suits you. A language is a means of communication, nothing more.”


    “Yes, my thanks for the elucidation,” Semiazas said dryly. “Now shed light on something of greater intrigue. Are you so swift in defending this little egomaniac because there is simply no limit to the boot-licking you will do to ensure the impecunious Erodis thrives, or does imagining his seed trickling down your throat in praise give you something to aspire to?”


    Rodrigo snorted internally at that, and Resent shushed him. Semiazas came off as a bit of a prick, yet he found himself rooting for the guy. He wasn’t sure whether it was because the fallen angel was the clear outsider among the others, or that he was one of the most beautiful beings Rodrigo had ever laid eyes on. Not celebrity good looks, but an inhuman level of attractiveness that went beyond something to be appreciated and made one question their own sexuality.


    Semiazas raised his hand in front of him and generated a small tornado in his palm. “Other than Barbatos, who can say with any certainty? Shall we find out?”


    Resent’s eyes flicked to Dissonantia, who was bobbing her head as if listening to music no one else could hear. “Is this your doing?”


    “As if they needed my encouragement,” Dissonantia responded in a deep, sultry voice, her swinging dreads obscuring her expression. “I am stunned they did not tear each other apart ages ago.”


    Rejoining them in this plane of existence, Barbatos cleared his throat from his place at the head of the table, and everyone calmed a bit. “If the enmity you two feel for each other is insurmountable, settle it in the arena. Or anywhere outside this room, for that matter. The tedious antics of children have no place here.”


    “Wise words, ancient one,” Semiazas said. “However, do not condescend to me as if your power is greater or even on a par with the rest of ours. You have a single trick that has allowed you to survive up until this point. That is all.”


    “True,” Barbatos admitted, pensively stroking the gray beard that fell to his chest. “And yet my trick foretells quite an unfortunate fate for you if your outburst continues.”


    Semiazas grimaced before permitting the tornado in his hand to die down.


    Sweeping his gaze around the room and seeing the others were as composed as they were likely to get, Barbatos continued, “My fellow high lords, we gather here on this day because Prince Resent wishes to stake his claim to the throne. Typically, after defeating the king in combat, the winner’s request for succession would be granted. Even more so because he is King Strife’s progeny. Nevertheless, that the prince is being hosted by a cambion makes him ineligible.”


    “I miss something here?” Cresil asked as he dug into his ear with a chubby pinky. “Obviously, he can do possession, so why not just have him transfer into a demon vessel?”


    “Were the solution that elementary, I presume the prince would have done so before entering this room,” Barbatos said.


    “Correct,” Resent said. “Ose presented me with the corpse of a diavolik conqueror from Erodis, and yet I felt weaker in it than I do in this mongrel’s body. Disgraceful as it may be, that is because this boy is...Strife’s son, and my agnate brother.”


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


    “What are you doing?” Rodrigo asked, having no intention of spending the rest of his life in Hell. He didn’t bother asking about the lie, because it made perfect sense. If having an offspring that wasn’t a pure demon was frowned upon in their society, why not make Strife, who had a history of it, the scapegoat? Misery had even paved the way for the deception by having Amdusias introduce Rodrigo as such back in the arena.


    Resent ignored his question as the high lords traded inquiring looks.


    “


    “Then what am I to do?” Resent demanded, trying and failing to keep his anger in check.


    “Is it not settled?” Semiazas asked, steepling his long fingers. “I bore witness to the finale of your rematch with Misery, and you are far weaker now than you were fifteen years ago. If possessing a body that makes you eligible to rule enfeebles you further still, you would make laughingstocks of us all for enabling such foolishness. Royal blood or no, you cannot be king.”


    Resent shot him a dark look, but the once angel stared back at him full of cheer.


    “I think we can all see where this is headed,” Ose said. “You could approach the necromancers for an answer, although, assuming they could find you an ideal vessel, you would still be more vulnerable than you originally were. If this boy is indeed King Strife’s son, then he may in fact be the best host you could hope for. That said, the most viable solution is getting your body back.”


    “Impossible!” Semiazas spat. “Misery beheaded him and immolated his corpse. Not even ash remains.”


    “


    “Of course, therein lies the problem. It is neither a simple nor expeditious task,” Barbatos said. “The demons will also require reassurance, so a high lord must be named protector until the new ruler takes the crown.”


    “I would volunteer Ose,” Resent said, perhaps too quickly.


    “Then I am relieved it is not up to you,” Semiazas countered. “Until you can rectify your condition, you have no say in matters of governance.”


    “Be that as it may, the prince will be treated with respect due to his rank,” Barbatos said sharply. “We shall put it to a vote.”


    “Have your vote later. I have more pressing concerns,” Resent said.


    Cresil slouched in his seat. “Like what? I thought we hit all the key points.”


    “For one, I request every last Brute and all their kin be exiled to the abyss.”


    “You would condemn the entire royal guard, some of your city’s finest warriors, to oblivion?” Semiazas asked.


    “Their debatable skill aside, they betrayed me and followed Misery without hesitation. Simply because treachery is to be expected among demons does not mean I shall tolerate it.” Addressing everyone now, Resent asked, “How long am I being given to retrieve my body?”


    “A month seems reasonable,” Semiazas said.


    “Madness!” Ose cried. “No one in such a state could hope to infiltrate Heaven and force an angel to restore their body inside of a fleeting sixty-one days.”


    Barbatos nodded. “A year seems much more suitable.”


    “Is that not overly generous of you?” Semiazas asked.


    “I suppose, however, Prince Resent deserves as much time as possible, within reason, to achieve his goal.”


    “All right, so track the angels down, massacre enough of them that they heal you just to be rid of you, and come back to rule. There’s your game plan. We done here?” Cresil asked, stretching his arms and head out on the table.


    “Ask about the demons pulling out of earth!” Rodrigo yelled.


    Resent was quiet for so long that Rodrigo started to believe he wouldn’t broach the subject, satisfied with the chaos. It was also possible he felt wronged by humanity, like Misery had, and wanted earth for the demons. “What exactly is the current situation with the human world? Since I am to be dwelling there for a time, it would be rather inconvenient to have demons continue rampaging through its streets.”


    “


    Resent seemed to realize how the comment made Rodrigo like the fallen angel more than anyone else in the room, because he said, “Don’t let his false benevolence lull you. He simply doesn’t need more slaves. Humans flock to Vicearia of their own volition to be close to the ‘divinity’ of the angels. It may be a fate worse than traditional slavery, since their brains are so muddled they can’t recognize their own predicament.”


    “


    Resent and the other high lords gawked at her in disbelief. Rodrigo felt nauseous as the words he’d taunted Misery with came back to bite him.


    Cresil sat bolt upright, blinking like there was a spotlight shining in his face. “Retaliate? Sorry, we’re actually considering the humans a credible threat? Out of sheer desperation, these primates have been nuking cities packed with their own people to get rid of small pockets of our forces. North Korea self-destructed, wiping themselves off the map. Why? In part because fear is driving them to lunacy. But we also tiptoed in and defanged the entire species before they even got their first whiff of a demon. We have soldiers possessing humans in the upper echelons of government all around the globe, spreading misinformation and sowing pandemonium. Even if we were evenly matched, which, duh, we’re not, there’s no defense they could muster against that. Kudos to Misery, the guy sure knew how to destabilize a world.”


    If anyone but Rodrigo and Resent were surprised by the imp’s sudden lucidity, they didn’t show it. Adena had mentioned the possibility, but if demons as skilled as Jezebeth were the ones doing the possessing, it painted a terrifying picture for the future of humanity. Their world leaders could already be supplanted, and not even those closest to them would be the wiser.


    “You realize most of us present, yourself included, are only where we are today because our predecessors underestimated us, correct? Making such a hasty judgment about an entire species can lead to grave repercussions.”


    “Dissonantia makes a fair point,” Barbatos said. “It is easy to draw conclusions about a foe from afar. Prince Resent, you have had time to observe them. Your input would be welcome.”


    “See, straight from the boss’ mouth. Can we go now?” Cresil asked, his misanthropic rant seemingly exhausting him, as he stared up at the ceiling.


    “No. Prince Resent is free to leave. The rest of us have the vote and a few other matters to attend to,” Barbatos said. As Resent rose, scooping Misery’s sword up from its resting place by the chair leg, Barbatos added, “Oh, and Prince Resent, I hope you understand we will need to retain the crown until you recuperate.”


    Eventually, Resent composed himself and took the crown off his head, tossing it onto the table in front of Barbatos. He walked out without a word.