Split of the Worlds

Chapter 4.1

Tazeel had acted extremely polite and pleased when he had appeared in N'Arahn's fortress. His tenor voice and his words had radiated nothing but joyful excitement.

Yes, the invitation had reached him. Of course, he had been thrilled. Congratulations on this successful surprise, it will be a grandiose celebration. Obviously he would tell Him everything immediately, after all it would be in His honor. Right?

All the while, the demonlord with the green skin had been smiling, showing his shiny black teeth and widening his eyes in exaggerated enthusiasm. The warmonger didn't need the red glow in them as a warning. Tazeel loved grand entrances, flashy clothes and affected speeches. He was considerably shorter than N'Arahn, with a slender build and high cheekbones in a somewhat lizard-like but not unattractive face, framed on one side by chestnut-colored curls. Did he appear slight, even soft? Yes. And there were no calluses on his hands. But he did not wield his blades with muscles, after all. Demonlords of his kind played with the minds of their opponents, and Tazeel in particular liked to be underestimated, only to strike devastatingly with a few words.

During the brief greeting, N'Arahn had understood every jab, every threat, every hint, but had not reacted. Aside from the fact that Tazeel was certainly looking for an opportunity to accuse him of lacking hospitality, he also had to be careful how much the seducer realized of his inner state. This demon was just too disgusting to him; he constantly had to suppress slight nausea when dealing with him.

He couldn't relate well to intriguers and seducers in general. They simply didn't share the same interests and expressed their needs in different ways. That didn't mean he couldn't respect their abilities or recognize them as useful. And there was no question that they were all highly dangerous anyway.

Tazeel, however, was in a class of his own. He was something like the right hand of the Lord of Hell and therefore had a greater say in many things than the other demonlords. And his presence repelled N'Arahn more and more every time, even if he couldn't grasp the reason for it. He couldn't even say for certain if Tazeel was the name of an Old Soul, if he was the only archdemon the Red Depths currently knew. The position the seducer held suggested that he was. And the power he had, subtle but always noticeable, also seemed to point in that direction. And yet his name did not taste like that.

If this was a deception, it said a lot about the true power that the demonlord could wield. But for this very reason, it would also be a clever manipulation to let this rumor grow. Something a really good seducer would do.

Such thoughts regularly gave N'Arahn a headache.

Here and now, Tazeel would be a guest of honor. Only one of many invited demonlords, but to be treated with special care. His every wish would be granted and he would take his place right next to the lord of the fortress. N'Arahn had to bow to this etiquette, but at least the seducer had heard about the event last.

Personally, he led him to the tribune, where together they welcomed all the other demonlords, their entourages or representatives participating in the festivities. A captain, he had chosen Cek for this purpose, handed them drinks in elaborately chiseled goblets, as well as bite-sized pieces of the precious harvest from N'Arahn's garden.

"So, how is the angel privately?"

N'Arahn shrugged his shoulders and maintained a neutral expression. The manner of emphasis had such a sleazy flavor that he would have liked to cut off the greenskin's tongue.

Tazeeel continued chattering away.

"It really is a shame that this angel was hidden for so long. We could have had so much fun by now. But an excellent decision to organize this festival. Something different from the market. Or the Eternal Battle. Isn't it? You don't get out that much anymore."
He lolled back in his chair and seemed to look around at the other guests.
"Everyone seems to be here. We can't wait to see what spectacle you have in store for us today." After a short pause, he added: "I wonder if all this fuss is justified."
Ah, there was the ice N'Arahn had been waiting for. Of course there were doubts. And it would be a feast for the other demonlords if the angel didn't live up to their expectations.
But he was sure that Veidja would not disappoint him. She couldn't help it, she would fight. And she would win. For a while.
The demonlords had signed up champions, a few had even wanted to send their adjutants to the arena. But he had been able to turn that down due to the high demand. He would take further advantage of this and follow up with more private events.
N'Arahn admitted to himself that the festivities he had planned and was looking forward to were not as enthralling today as he had hoped. They were supposed to be an opportunity to show off his spoils and thus increase his prestige and consolidate his position.