Lucifer's Plan

Turmoil and exhaustion plagued the diminutive scout as Vemmu the imp caught sight of the capital, Armathain. His destination was finally within sight, after more than two days of flying south through foul weather while dodging the predatory gerăki that dwell within the mountains the entirety of the way. 

Getting closer and from his high elevation, he could essentially make out the entirety of the expansive city that stretched out for miles, generally to the south, beyond the plateau in the northern most part of the city, which was the heart of Satan’s capital. The plateau and Satan’s enormous fortress sitting along its western edge of it was unfortunately his destination. He wished he could veer around it to the city he was far more accustomed to.

Disconnected from the finery atop the plateau, the city expanding outward from its base was made up mostly of simple dwellings constructed from wood and stone across relatively flat terrain, at least from his current vantage. He knew better. So close to the mountains he was escaping, Hell’s surface was broken beyond what he could presently make out but memory of what had long been a base of operations for him, and his prior companion hunters came to mind.

Vemmu wanted nothing more than to return to a time, just a moment ago in comparison to the endless wars raging throughout Hell, when he and his companions scoured the flatter topography to the southwest of the capital in search for wandering, hapless souls. Then they would return to the capital and barter the valuable slave souls in the markets, most notably one in close proximity to the base of the crag at the southernmost part of the plateau.

Those times now passed, he couldn’t presently imagine having it that good again. His companions were dead at the hands of Lucifer Morningstar, just over three weeks prior, then the death of his new master, not three days ago and again due to the hunt for the fallen angel, had him flying solo to report the utter failure of that venture. Darkening further, he had to report the disturbing unfolding of events that lead to Lucifer’s escape from Satan’s lands to the king.

He believed himself fortunate for surviving his last report to Satan, wherein it was he who arrived back at the capital to relay the recently seen fallen angel was none other than Lucifer Morningstar. News of such an unprecedented expulsion from Heaven should have earned him substantial credit for the report alone, but instead, he barely escaped that encounter with his life and was summarily attached to the very next unit of soldiers sent out to continue the hunt.

Connected to two failed attempts at capturing the prize Satan wanted above all else might at last prove to be his end. His species was not known for being wise in general, but he knew of one imp who was the exception and might very well be the line between his salvation and demise. Thinking of none other than Satan’s own steward, he decided to veer towards the base of the plateau on its northern side. Last time he’d attempted to go straight to the fortress with his news. After being turned away by stupid brute demon guards, he spread his news wide, thinking only to get the word out in order to avenge his fallen companions. This angered the king so this time his message would be for one set of ears alone. And he believed he knew how to contact him on the quiet.

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Whispered words delivered by one of his loyal into the ears of Delvaz as he finished his morning meal raised his expectations of the day to grander heights. Wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin as he stood, as if he was a highborn noble from a long line of affluent relations and not the uncouth product of one of the lowest forms of demons in all of Hell, the most sought after white imp in all of the capital, perhaps all of Hell, headed directly for the dungeon levels beneath Armathain Fortress.

Leaving his personal dining room, designed for one of his height, being only two and a half feet tall, was a fellow imp and spy in his employ he dealt with more often than any of his other flying cousins. Brarzon, by name, had proven loyal for decades. Being such, he trusted his much taller spy at his back to some extent, even though he was unusually tall for their species and in comparison to most imps, especially white imps, he was more muscled and ferocious looking. While not demanding the attention of larger species of demon, to the average imp, Brarzon was not to be trifled with which is why Delvaz kept him well paid.

The pair of imps traversed hallways absent Satan’s loyal elite sentinels. While all of the brute demons that made up Satan’s personal guard would do as Delvaz commanded, where they were heading, a demon their size could not readily traverse the halls unless they wished to crawl some of the way. Plus, if he was right in his thinking, Brarzon’s news demanded secrecy. Perhaps even from Satan. He could not trust that one of the brute demons would not inform his king. In fact, it was just the opposite. He was sure they would.

Down through the bowels of the great fortress, more or less as quickly as Delvaz’s short legs could take him without all out running, the pair of imps made it to the dungeon level. Stepping onto the carved stone at the base of the last step, Delvaz pivoted right ninety degrees then went around the large stone-carved gargoyle at the base of the banister instead of heading straight towards the guarded archway which marked the entrance to the dungeons.

With Brarzon following close, Delvaz stepped into the shadowed corner, where the back of the carved-out stairs met solid wall; or so it would seem to the naked eye. There, he tapped his knuckles on the stone three times. In seconds, the oiled hinges connecting the hidden door large enough for an imp swung open without a sound.

Into one of the most expansive secret passages built not only under the fortress but the entire plateau, Delvaz and Brarzon entered the torch lit hallway. Guarding the secret entrance, two white imps sealed the portal behind them.

Beneath the fortress and the noble houses situated atop the plateau, the imp made tunnels expanded for miles worth of passages. The wise leaders of the city knew to some degree that imps dwelled beneath their feet but if they truly understood the breadth in which they extended and how much secreted information flew down the torchlit paths, they would be furious.

Delvaz, on the other hand, counted on these gossip routes. As not only the personal steward to the king but also the foremost leader among all the imps in the city, he relied on his fellow imps more than any other species. Case in point, Brarzon did not disappoint. Entering a larger cavern by way of the tunnel they’d traversed, they came upon a scene of two imps within Brarzon’s clan, with the same black charcoal colored skin, holding onto a slightly smaller red tinged imp with a black stripe running from the end of his tail all the way up his spine to the base of his skull. Delvaz easily recognized Vemmu.

With Brarzon moving to his side, Delvaz approached in his typical stance, arms inside the overly large sleeves of his hooded robe and his forearms resting atop his pot belly. Within six feet of Vemmu he ordered of the two imps holding his arms outstretched to release him and addressed, “So, I hear you’ve news from the north. Tell me, hunter, how fares the search for Lucifer?”

Head bowed low in deference, Vemmu did not wish to offend but the memory of the events after his last report swayed his choices. “Forgive, Master…”

“Steward.” Delvaz interrupted. When Vemmu looked to him quizzically, he disarmed, “I am not so demanding as a master or lord. Think of me as the, how shall we say…a waypoint between the masses and those that call themselves our masters. You need not show fear here.”

Vemmu looked left then right to the two imps previously holding him secure. He could understand the precaution, and it was certainly better treatment then when he’d last arrived with news of the fallen angel. After all, he did fly right into a cavern opening on the side of the plateau uninvited in order to gain access. And when he’d last been in custody, it was not Delvaz who’d caged him, questioned him, or used spell work upon his mind in order to get the full picture of his report. Not putting any of that past Satan’s right-hand demon, he nevertheless replied, “What I say is for you alone.”

Priding himself for being the most informed demon in the entire kingdom, Delvaz completely understood the power of information. What this one had to say intrigued him all the more. Though if it did not prove useful or put him in a precarious position, knowing where Vemmu had been lately, he would see to it Brarzon and his two clan members dispatched Vemmu post-haste. With a gesture of his left hand pulled from his sleeve, he motioned towards the left side of the cavern.

Half into the shadows, away from prying ears, Delvaz offered another olive branch, extending his right arm and placing a reassuring hand atop his shoulder as he leaned in close. “So, by what circumstances do you find yourself in the capital once more? Without those you accompanied north.”

Vemmu felt guilt the first time he’d returned but not of the failure to capture Lucifer. Only that felt for not being able to better aid his fallen companions. The second time out upon his trail was forced, so he felt guilt free, even though he’d thought he’d found a suitable master in the torkon commander who’d treated him as an asset instead of the slave he could have taken him for. In the moment, he really didn’t know what he was feeling other than fear for his own life. He had nothing else, but still, life presented opportunity and it was all he had to cling to. In hopes of it continuing, and blaming Lucifer for his present state of affairs, who he still wished dead, he went with honesty, as he intended all along.

Hopeful, Vemmu explained all to Delvaz in hushed tones. How he and the group of cavalry demons he’d accompanied north in search of Lucifer battled demons in service to Baron Kurnalos, slaughtering them after meeting General War, who they’d been trailing as all groups were trying to get to Lucifer first. After, they’d ascended the northern most part of Razors Range, trying to catch up to the general in hopes of aiding him further. But upon reaching their goal, the hunt for Lucifer grew stranger still.

Listening intently to all, Delvaz interrupted at the point where Vemmu began to explain what it was he saw from the rocky outcrop he was spying from at the top of the mountain, “What do you mean, General War was not wearing his helmet?”

Vemmu repeated, “When we neared the top of the mountain, we could already hear the sounds of battle. I dashed off to the side. From there, I saw General War and Lucifer squared off against one another.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. The helmet? What did you see?” Delvaz urged.

“He was not wearing it, Steward. And…and he was not a demon.”

“Lucifer?”

“No, Steward. The General. He was not a demon. I swear it, Steward.” Vemmu gulped at his assertion.

Delvaz gently pushed him back to arm’s length before turning and slowly walking away in contemplation of what he’d just heard. Stopping a few feet away with hand to chin, his mind was flabbergasted. Long have been the rumors and theories as to exactly who General War was and how he’d, seemingly out of nowhere, become King Satan’s most favored general. Thinking on it, if what Vemmu said is true, there was little he could be, if not a demon. Turning back, he questioned further, “What did he look like?”

With a grimace, Vemmu remembered, “Features like Lucifer’s. Hair also like Lucifer’s, or that of a human.”

“But his size?” Delvaz questioned whether or not it was even General War. “Are you sure it was him?”

“Had I not seen him at the base of the mountain, I would not have known who he was. But there was no mistaking. He was the same one we’d fought on behalf of earlier.”

Delvaz could certainly understand not mistaking General War after seeing him once. His armor was legendary and few on Hell were so armored. Iron to produce such great armor was scarce in Hell, let alone the magnificent armor he wore. But still he pondered his size.

Humans and angels were similarly sized, with the exception of angels’ wings. Celestials, on the other hand, could be significantly larger than their angel cousins. Believed to once have been of the same lineage in Heaven, angels had long ago accentuated their bodies with wings while celestials naturally evolved into larger beings, but just as the angels and demons are capable of body manipulation through the use of spells, so too are celestials. That was what the titans were. Just celestials who’d increased their power through size and strength to colossal proportions. Modern celestials were not allowed to do so, but there were some specimens rumored to still be much larger than others. Could General War be one of these? And which one? Only one possibility came to mind.

Thinking past this revelation, Delvaz inquired further, “What happened next?”

Vemmu continued with his story, “Unthinkable, Steward. The General and Lucifer killed my commander and the others. Together. Seeing their charge as one is what halted me from entering the fight. I longed to attack Lucifer once more but seeing them fighting together stunned me to inaction. I did not know what to do.”

Delvaz was not so sure about that last statement. Imps could be brave fighters under the right circumstances and Vemmu had indeed fought Lucifer once before, but he sounded more like he was trying to make himself sound braver than he was in the moment. Regardless, he knew this imp absent any actual clan was no coward. He was just smart enough to know when to flee. “What happened next?”

“General War got his helmet. While doing so, Lucifer released his wings, ran to the cliff’s edge and tackled a human off of the edge.”

Delvaz stopped him once more, not having heard of a soul present up until this point, “Wait, wait. What human?”

Vemmu shrugged. “I know not. I only know the angel extended his wings and grabbed him as he went over the edge.”

Delvaz came right back up into Vemmu’s face. “You mean to tell me, Lucifer still lives?”

“Yes, my Lord.” He corrected. “Steward.”

Delvaz was in disbelief. He’d have hoped General War would have ended this hunt for Lucifer which had so consumed King Satan’s thoughts these past few weeks. It’d been hard to keep Satan’s mind on ruling the kingdom of late, and all for one fallen angel. Now angered, he asked, “What of General War? After Lucifer escaped, again?”

“He threw the bodies of the calvary demons and their torkons from the cliff. After is when I left.”

“Sure.” Delvaz acknowledged. He knew General War was no fool. Though suspicions of him being responsible for their deaths, even with Vemmu’s testimony, wouldn’t go anywhere. Commanders killed their charges on a regular basis.

Now what to do? General War would presumably be heading back to the capital to make his report to the king. Unless the mad general chose to go in further search of the elusive angel. To do so, he’d have to exit the Screaming Gate at their northern boundary and leave the kingdom. He doubted he would go that far, even though he’d traveled hundreds of miles in search of Lucifer once he’d heard of his arrival upon Hell.

So much to think about, Delvaz put the security of Vemmu to mind for the immediate future. In case he needed him, he couldn’t very well turn him loose. Nor did he want anyone else knowing of this news.

Motioning him back toward the others, he let known, “You’ve done the right thing coming directly to me, honored scout. Now, I must keep you safe. What you have revealed is dangerous, as I’m sure you can imagine. Because of this, I would like you to stay, here, in the catacombs as my guest.”

“Here?” Vemmu looked about the carved-out room bereft of anything except a couple torches in wall sconces.

“Not here, here.” Delvaz expanded, referencing the well-hidden lone whore house within the catacombs right beneath the feet of the noble houses above. “In the house of Mistress Amedee. I have outstanding credit in her establishment. As my guest, you will wont for nothing, I assure you.”

Vemmu’s spirit perked up. Amedee’s place was legendary among his species but mostly rumor for the likes of those living outside of the plateau. His decision to come directly to Delvaz was proving to be better than he’d expected.