A Fall to Grace
Part One
Spoiler: show
Her eyelids fluttered gently in the vivid morning light. Swathed and caressed by sheets of the finest Aranaei silk, the Gan 'Ceanne turned her eyes to the one she had claimed and smiled warmly. Memories of the past few nights brought spots of colour, improbably, to her cold cheeks.
Undeath, was a strange fate, a Belle Dame had explained everything to her in the past, of how her corpse was destroyed in an event known as "comparable reciprocity" and reformed as though a doll's to once again house her soul. She had no human heart any longer, however her core, an intertwining of demon energy and her soul still held the capacity for feelings, if not a pulse.
She had spent the last few weeks in a state of lustful addlement, her partner was wonderful, she had decided he would be hers and had consummated her desires with him the moment that she had returned to her lady's grand citadel. Still however there was something she felt she had forgotten, something of great import that she was supposed to have told her queen weeks ago, yet had not.
Propping herself up on an arm which appeared the hue of chalcedony she positioned her head upon its resting place,her soft, jet black hair fell upon her shoulders in soft ringlets, she sighed despondently before dropping back to the bed as her head rolled into a position where she could better take in the view of her mate, surely a few more hours would not hurt?
Elsewhere in the Citadel of Desires, in a throne room picked out in lurid lamps and prurient artwork, a war of words was soon to break out. A diminutive, bespectacled Serebim clenched a dainty fist tightly before her heart before splaying her fingers dramatically and raising her cute, silver locked head to look at her mother.
"Mama."
Her voice tinkled as if a small, clear mountain spring. It was the kind of voice that would inspire even the most grizzled and deadly of assassins to protect the little one before them. In fact, a youkami, affecting to subdue the little one in an attempt to get a sample of her blood in the past had instead asked her politely for a sample, clearly unable to resist. She had even explained her reasons for her aforementioned actions, and it was through this one event that she had thought Lady Eiraiha may in fact be trying to help. Her mother gazed back at her wearing a bemused expression.
"Mama, you cannot continue doing this."
Her father gazed down at her from his throne at her mother's right, his face sporting a hint of worry and concern. The throne was a rather overbearing thing, carved from obsidian and inlaid with mother of pearl and gold, it was a sister throne to that of the one to its left, which while looking similar was larger and possessed a large pair of filligried golden succubus wings which spread out behind and encompassed the dais both occupied. Her mother Seretique giggled uneasily before her full, succulent lips drew downwards into an expression of mock anger.
"My dear, are you going to tell your own mother what she can and cannot do? Are you going to throw a tantrum to get your way? Are you really going to tell me how to live my life?"
She, she was mocking her, she was mocking her own daughter. Stamping down the flames of anger threatening to become a blaze, the adorable, petite young girl took in her older sisters and the guards arrayed around the lewd yet sumptuous throne room. They were all smirking at her, barring Tella of course, as if she were only a simple child.. Well technically she was, but that wasn't the point. She ground her delicate foot on the floor, she would not stamp!
"You cannot keep fighting with Her mama, she is not your enemy!"
The Demon Lord took in her daughter, whoever was she talking about? Was it Marisaelle, the second eldest who had attempted to depose her in a bid to take on Heaven which she claimed was rightfully theirs? Damien had dealt with her a few weeks back , promising punishment for such behaviour towards her own mother. Damien had locked himself in Marisaelle's room and when he had emerged their daughter had been as good as gold. Her mouth drew up in a pout, she had wanted him to punish her instead!
Her expression finally becoming serious.. If only a little, Seretique vi Alloriel regarded her youngest daughter with a placid gaze, her flawless hands resting gently on the gilded arm-rests of the Throne of Passions.
"Who exactly do you refer to, when you say 'she' Maraina? Is it Marisaelle? You do realise I have forgiven her don't you?"
Maraina swallowed nervously, she had a feeling something horrible was about to happen. It was the kind of feeling you get when walking along an icy path on a frozen tarn and hear an ominous creak beneath you. She felt a strong urge in her nethers to relieve herself, but forced it down frowardly. Her mother would understand, no, she had to understand, this was bigger than her petty squabbles, the future of mamonme and humankind depended on her.
"Lady Eiraiha mother."
Everyone in the room grew very still. At first it appeared as if Seretique had swallowed a particularly sour plum, after which her mouth drew up into a tight smile. Unfortunately the smile never reached her eyes as she leaned forward on her seat, the padded rests creaking in her grip. Her voice came out in an almost strangled gasp.
"Whose name was that dear daughter? I thought I heard something which sounded like a pretty sick joke."
"Lady Ei-"
The demon lord sat bolt upright in her throne, as if a cat that had just sat on a hot coal.
"I heard you the first time dear! You dare utter that name before your own mother?!"
Seretique eyed her daughter, incredulous. Maraina to her credit managed not to cower on the floor pathetically and instead turned a determined gaze on her mother. She would not back down from this, she just wouldn't!
"But ma-"
"No!"
"Mam-"
"I said no!"
The other occupants of the room continued to watch the heated exchange as if watching two dragons lobbing a ball of flame between the pair of them. The demon lord had now almost fully risen from her seat, glaring at her daughter. Meanwhile, the diminutive serebim displayed spots of colour on her dainty cheeks, while moisture pooled tremulously at the corners of her eyes, a warning of tears to come. Finally her shoulders and wings wilted as her hands sought her purfled skirt.
"Will you just listen to-"
"No!"
Seretique stared down her nose at her child, her eyes flashed dangerously as she stood at her full height, her chest puffed out in anger.
"You are just a simple child who knows nothing of the adult world!"
Each point was punctuated as if lashes from a whip.
"There are some things you know nothing about! That woman sent her flaming tin can to attack me the other night, but I threw him out! You claim she is not my enemy and yet she has plotted to steal your father from me again and again with her Luminaire! I will not hear any more of this matter Maraina! You will not mention her name before me again! Am I making myself clear dear?!"
The dainty young mamonme child's fists quivered as she gripped her skirts. Her fists had turned a deathly white as the blood had decided to find a better place to reside. Finally favouring her mother with a defeated expression a single tear trickled down her cheek.
"As crystal mama."
She then turned and fled from the sumptuous throne room. Damien rose slowly from his throne and placed a strong hand upon his wife, the demon lord's flawless shoulder. He eyed her calmly.
"Don't you think you went a little too far dear?"
Seretique turned a surprisingly unperturbed gaze on her husband and tittered, seemingly unconcerned about her previous actions.
"Oh don't worry about her Damie~ She's probably just sulking in her room now, she'll come around later and realise I was right, you'll see."
Tella, standing near the door, allowed her gaze to sweep across the other serebim in the room, most wearing expressions of both concern and shock. Finally she treated Seretique to eyes full of utter distaste before clattering off after the departed serebim, the passage way too narrow for flight.
It is for good reason that impundulu are referred to as "bad apples" for impundulu are as wild as the energies they wield and even the demon lord herself cannot fully control them. While Seretique had somewhat missed Tella's sullen glare, Damien had not. Instinctively he called forth the commander of the Citadel of Desire's military, instructing her to make sure the throne room remained secured.
It was just as she nodded her assent that a trumpet blared within the room, piercing the otherwise gloomy atmosphere. At first it was a single trumpet, but soon more and more began to add their call, eventually a host of trumpets erupted into a grand crescendo, those in the throne room wailed in fear and covered their pointed ears against the riot of sound... which ended as abruptly as it had begun. A few of Seretique's daughters sobbed or wept openly in terror, while their mother looked about her distraught. Finally she calmed herself and looked to Damien.
"What, what was that? Damien I'm-"
At that moment a Gan 'Ceanne, her outfit and midnight black hair slightly rumpled, her armour skew, burst into the throne room and immediately prostrated herself.
"Your Greatness! There is an enormous force gathering on the Ridge of Trepidation!"
Seretique gazed at the woman as if she were a rarely sighted unicorn before sitting on her throne heavily, she looked to Damien who turned his eyes back to the Gan 'Ceanne on the floor.
"Who are they Braennah? Do we face the Luminaire again? How great is their force?"
It finally appeared as if the Demon Lord had snapped out of her moment of shock, for she leaned forward in her throne and glared at Braennah.
"I would like to add that your attire is an absolute travesty, have you no sense of decorum?"
Braennah's ears coloured red at the tips as she continued to concentrate on the floor before her. Finally she managed to find her voice.
"I, I don't know who they are commander, I can say though that their force is growing as more and more take up position on the ridge. They appear capable of gating too."
Finally looking to Seretique, the Gan 'Ceanne set her face resolutely.
"With all due respect your greatness, I don't think my outfit is important at this time."
A dark expression drifted across the Demon Lord's features, as if a cloud drifting past the full moon, before being washed away just as quickly. She turned to her husband, her expression becoming serious.
"Have them get the 'view enhancers' from storage, I'm glad those rabbits showed us how to use them. We'll meet on the upper balcony."
Elsewhere, on the Ridge of Trepidation a honey haired goddess sat on a finely carved chair of prismatic birch. The golden wood appeared to shimmer as the sap which gave the tree its name, refracted the late morning sunlight.
"Now Eihy, while I applaud you for your sense of honour, I must say that warning them of our existence has cost us any chance of a preemptive attack, you really should think before you act."
The small, chiding voice seemed to emanate from thin air, and yet the strokes of a hairbrush, like a rake through fine, soft sand gave away the location of its master. A short young girl at the back of the chair, luscious red hair pulled into a no-nonsense braid and petite horns adorned with ribbons, continued to brush the hair of the Principal Goddess with the air of a mother brushing the hair of her beloved child. Her dainty pink wings, thumb spines wrapped in ribbons twitched in contentment. Eiraiha tried to turn to look at the Wendy while speaking to her, but drew in a gasp as the action sent a streak of pain through her scalp.
"I believe in things being done fair and square Lyssie, ow!"
The Wendy clucked to herself quietly and focused on an errant lock which had avoided her ministrations.
"Are you honestly brushing Her hair at this time Alyssum? We are about to take part in a serious battle with the world at stake, I don't think it will matter whether you have brushed out her hair or not by the end of it."
Clover Meadlowry, the Gentle Flame, clip clopped across the rock bestrewn ground, one of her hooves sending a six legged lizard fleeing for cover under a rock. Her large bosom rippled as if the surface of a great, flesh toned ocean. It appeared she had temporarily removed her breastplate so as to take advantage of her last chance before the battle to feel the sun on her body. A snowy white dirndl, laced with cherry pink ribbons gave her at least some measure of modesty. The diminutive succubus mock glared at her friend before placing the mother of pearl encrusted hairbrush on a small table beside her. She then placed her dainty hands upon the Principal Goddess' shoulders, drawing Her into a warm embrace from behind.
"Clover, my Eihy is going into a big battle today, I want Her to be perfect, the image of elegance for Her big showdown with Seretique vi Alloriel."
The Wendy released her embrace and proceeded to dip a delicate hand into a jar of ureonggaksi slime, rubbing the gel into her fingers she began applying it to Eiraiha's face. Clover snorted, tittering cheerfully.
"You dote on Her too much Lyssie~"
While the two friends heckled each other, Eiraiha herself allowed Her thoughts to drift, Demara was her true mother, but could she really think that way with Alyssum? She had essentially adopted her and she was sure that her mother herself would have approved of the petite Wendy.
Her eyes took in the ragged plain and the fortress ahead of her, so different from the lush, forested lands they had passed through. This area had been forcibly cleared to avoid surprises like that which she had originally intended before surveying the area. By announcing themselves Seretique would be on edge and people on edge tended to make mistakes, she couldn't believe that it had come to this, but she would not allow Malus to kill the Demon Lord.
He was also out there, somewhere, possibly engaged in battle. Well at least Liccitia was with him.. That thought actually irked Her, while she was happy that Her most special person had someone powerful with him, she was seeing the baphomet increasingly as that little sister in all of the popular mamonme romance novels. She was rapidly becoming the type that oft seduced the older sister's beau and she as Principal God was not going to allow that to happen any time soon.
She was jolted from Her thoughts a second later as a blur of white, black and tanned skin touched down next to Her. Tella and Maraina stood before Her, the commander looking fretfully at the young serebim whose face was drenched with tears. Rising from Her seat, much to the annoyance of Alyssum, She strode over to the dainty serebim and enfolded her in Her arms. Allowing a blessing of peace to fall upon the child She gazed up at the Impundulu.
"What happened Commander Morguis?"
The Impundulu let out a sigh before shaking her head, silvery hair fell in a silky cascade upon her lightmail pauldrons.
"That harlot of a mother would not listen to reason, she mocked her and would not even let her own daughter speak! I took her away from that nasty place the minute she left the room!"
Eiraiha patted her on the shoulder which drew a look of startled surprise from the silver haired bird woman.
"Take her far away from here, I hear mamonme are rioting in many of the kingdom's cities and towns. Perhaps you two can calm the situation a bit while I deal with Seretique."
The Impundulu still appeared doubtful so the Principal Goddess caught her eyes and smiled.
"Do not fear, I will not kill Seretique, it is my solemn promise to you as Principal God."
These words appeared to be enough. The commander merely nodded before carefully picking up the now sleeping Maraina - a silvery lock of hair hanging in front of her eyes - in her powerful, taloned claws and took to the skies, departing for the north.
Meanwhile, on a battlement of the Citadel of Desires, a group comprised of Seretique vi Alloriel, her husband, the commander of the fortress, a sorceress with a staff festooned with roses and three of the oldest of the Serebim took in the sweep of open ground which stretched outwards from the great keep. Grabbing one of the odd metallic devices which allowed one to see a hundred times further than normally possible, the demon lord surveyed the ridge top, observing the figures which swarmed like ants across its plateau. Noting the penants rippling in the breeze, her mouth twisted into a frown of intense displeasure.
"The Gentle Flame... that is who it is."
The Fortress Commander, a gan'ceann of formidable strength and height took her own viewer from those resting on a plush velvet cushion, embroidered in intricate hearts and raised it to her eyes.
"Eiraiha's pet? What would that deluded cow be doing here anyway? Last time I saw her she was looking for a peaceful audience with you... Quite well mannered that one."
The demon lord's serious expression melted into one of sheepishness, her cheeks coloured slightly.
"I may have had something to do with that, I went a little too far with her-"
"What do you mean a little too far? What did you do?"
Seretique put down her instrument and turned to face Korragae and Damien, the sorceress appeared curious, her husband wore an expression which appeared as if a storm brewing on a summer's day. The demon lord could not quite look them in the eyes, in fact her face took on such a look of wide eyed innocence, that it resembled guilt emblazoned on a penant hung directly above the main gate for the world to see. Damien now resembled a father chiding his daughter.
"All of it my dear."
Seretique flinched at those words.
"I grabbed Clover Meadlowry, lust addled her and her daughter, disrupted the ambassadorial meeting in Crystal Plinth, insulted the guests and picked a fight with Eiraiha... I might have killed a human accidentally too."
An expression of genuine regret washed over her face at that. The gan'ceanne commander however, glared at her openly before shutting her eyes and adopting an expression similar to that of Damien.
"All of those months spent negotiating.. For nothing! You-"
"Oh, what is everyone doing out here looking so tense?"
She was cut off however by a dark angel of middling stature. The woman wore an expression of mock regret and rather obvious conceit. Sauntering over to the cushion holding the view enhancers, her twin tails of hair swaying above her soot black wings, she grabbed one before looking at the others.
"So what are we looking at, hm?"
Korragae noticed a flash and focused on it, her expression drew up into one of bemusement.
"They have gateways, though not like anything I have ever seen. It appears there are a great deal of mamonme in the Gentle Flame's force too."
The dark angel brought the ridge into focus, paying special attention to the gateways mentioned, her jaw dropped as her eyebrows attempted to climb off her sublime forehead and take refuge in her midnight blue hair.
"Those aren't gateways... They're portals of glory! This isn't just the Gentle Flame, this is Heaven itself, the celestial host is here!"
Seretique appeared shocked and bewildered, she turned her eyes to Damien.
"Why are mamonme siding with the forces of Heaven?!"
Her husband turned to her wearily.
"You did not read the reports? The mamonme riots? Mamonme turning to Eiraiha? What have you been doing dear?"
The demon lord took in the mamonme who had begun flowing down from the ridge.
"I shall reach out to them, appeal to their conscience, they shall see reason, I know it!"
Concentrating intently, Seretique vi Alloriel stretched her influence towards the hordes of mamonme and humans who were now gathering at the base of the mountain... Her eyebrows mimicked the dark angel's, climbing up her forehead in utter distress as she let out a horrified wail.
"I - I can't hear them! Damien! I can't hear them at all! Why?!"
Noting his wife's disquiet, Damien wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders and turned to his daughters.
"Salaceasa, Clemaense, Lirabaelle, call your sisters together, your mother will do a roll call in ten minutes from now in the throne room, hurry!"
The three beautiful serebim bobbed their heads and almost tripped over each other as they bustled into the castle. He then turned to the Citadel's Commander.
"Aoifaela, marshal the kingdom's armies, if you have to, send word to the Taint Pledged, we will need every soldier we can get."
Aoifaela saluted briskly, her silver and violet armour glinting in the morning sun. She turned and headed back into the fortress as the raven haired dark angel set down her own implement and hurried off after her. She threw her gaze back over her shoulder.
"I will get word to my mistress immediately, she will have some gentry, grimwailers and Nephyrum on the field within the hour!"
Holding the demon lord to his chest, Damien looked towards the ridge, this was a mess if ever there was one, would Eiraiha ever set aside her animosity for Seretique?
Undeath, was a strange fate, a Belle Dame had explained everything to her in the past, of how her corpse was destroyed in an event known as "comparable reciprocity" and reformed as though a doll's to once again house her soul. She had no human heart any longer, however her core, an intertwining of demon energy and her soul still held the capacity for feelings, if not a pulse.
She had spent the last few weeks in a state of lustful addlement, her partner was wonderful, she had decided he would be hers and had consummated her desires with him the moment that she had returned to her lady's grand citadel. Still however there was something she felt she had forgotten, something of great import that she was supposed to have told her queen weeks ago, yet had not.
Propping herself up on an arm which appeared the hue of chalcedony she positioned her head upon its resting place,her soft, jet black hair fell upon her shoulders in soft ringlets, she sighed despondently before dropping back to the bed as her head rolled into a position where she could better take in the view of her mate, surely a few more hours would not hurt?
Elsewhere in the Citadel of Desires, in a throne room picked out in lurid lamps and prurient artwork, a war of words was soon to break out. A diminutive, bespectacled Serebim clenched a dainty fist tightly before her heart before splaying her fingers dramatically and raising her cute, silver locked head to look at her mother.
"Mama."
Her voice tinkled as if a small, clear mountain spring. It was the kind of voice that would inspire even the most grizzled and deadly of assassins to protect the little one before them. In fact, a youkami, affecting to subdue the little one in an attempt to get a sample of her blood in the past had instead asked her politely for a sample, clearly unable to resist. She had even explained her reasons for her aforementioned actions, and it was through this one event that she had thought Lady Eiraiha may in fact be trying to help. Her mother gazed back at her wearing a bemused expression.
"Mama, you cannot continue doing this."
Her father gazed down at her from his throne at her mother's right, his face sporting a hint of worry and concern. The throne was a rather overbearing thing, carved from obsidian and inlaid with mother of pearl and gold, it was a sister throne to that of the one to its left, which while looking similar was larger and possessed a large pair of filligried golden succubus wings which spread out behind and encompassed the dais both occupied. Her mother Seretique giggled uneasily before her full, succulent lips drew downwards into an expression of mock anger.
"My dear, are you going to tell your own mother what she can and cannot do? Are you going to throw a tantrum to get your way? Are you really going to tell me how to live my life?"
She, she was mocking her, she was mocking her own daughter. Stamping down the flames of anger threatening to become a blaze, the adorable, petite young girl took in her older sisters and the guards arrayed around the lewd yet sumptuous throne room. They were all smirking at her, barring Tella of course, as if she were only a simple child.. Well technically she was, but that wasn't the point. She ground her delicate foot on the floor, she would not stamp!
"You cannot keep fighting with Her mama, she is not your enemy!"
The Demon Lord took in her daughter, whoever was she talking about? Was it Marisaelle, the second eldest who had attempted to depose her in a bid to take on Heaven which she claimed was rightfully theirs? Damien had dealt with her a few weeks back , promising punishment for such behaviour towards her own mother. Damien had locked himself in Marisaelle's room and when he had emerged their daughter had been as good as gold. Her mouth drew up in a pout, she had wanted him to punish her instead!
Her expression finally becoming serious.. If only a little, Seretique vi Alloriel regarded her youngest daughter with a placid gaze, her flawless hands resting gently on the gilded arm-rests of the Throne of Passions.
"Who exactly do you refer to, when you say 'she' Maraina? Is it Marisaelle? You do realise I have forgiven her don't you?"
Maraina swallowed nervously, she had a feeling something horrible was about to happen. It was the kind of feeling you get when walking along an icy path on a frozen tarn and hear an ominous creak beneath you. She felt a strong urge in her nethers to relieve herself, but forced it down frowardly. Her mother would understand, no, she had to understand, this was bigger than her petty squabbles, the future of mamonme and humankind depended on her.
"Lady Eiraiha mother."
Everyone in the room grew very still. At first it appeared as if Seretique had swallowed a particularly sour plum, after which her mouth drew up into a tight smile. Unfortunately the smile never reached her eyes as she leaned forward on her seat, the padded rests creaking in her grip. Her voice came out in an almost strangled gasp.
"Whose name was that dear daughter? I thought I heard something which sounded like a pretty sick joke."
"Lady Ei-"
The demon lord sat bolt upright in her throne, as if a cat that had just sat on a hot coal.
"I heard you the first time dear! You dare utter that name before your own mother?!"
Seretique eyed her daughter, incredulous. Maraina to her credit managed not to cower on the floor pathetically and instead turned a determined gaze on her mother. She would not back down from this, she just wouldn't!
"But ma-"
"No!"
"Mam-"
"I said no!"
The other occupants of the room continued to watch the heated exchange as if watching two dragons lobbing a ball of flame between the pair of them. The demon lord had now almost fully risen from her seat, glaring at her daughter. Meanwhile, the diminutive serebim displayed spots of colour on her dainty cheeks, while moisture pooled tremulously at the corners of her eyes, a warning of tears to come. Finally her shoulders and wings wilted as her hands sought her purfled skirt.
"Will you just listen to-"
"No!"
Seretique stared down her nose at her child, her eyes flashed dangerously as she stood at her full height, her chest puffed out in anger.
"You are just a simple child who knows nothing of the adult world!"
Each point was punctuated as if lashes from a whip.
"There are some things you know nothing about! That woman sent her flaming tin can to attack me the other night, but I threw him out! You claim she is not my enemy and yet she has plotted to steal your father from me again and again with her Luminaire! I will not hear any more of this matter Maraina! You will not mention her name before me again! Am I making myself clear dear?!"
The dainty young mamonme child's fists quivered as she gripped her skirts. Her fists had turned a deathly white as the blood had decided to find a better place to reside. Finally favouring her mother with a defeated expression a single tear trickled down her cheek.
"As crystal mama."
She then turned and fled from the sumptuous throne room. Damien rose slowly from his throne and placed a strong hand upon his wife, the demon lord's flawless shoulder. He eyed her calmly.
"Don't you think you went a little too far dear?"
Seretique turned a surprisingly unperturbed gaze on her husband and tittered, seemingly unconcerned about her previous actions.
"Oh don't worry about her Damie~ She's probably just sulking in her room now, she'll come around later and realise I was right, you'll see."
Tella, standing near the door, allowed her gaze to sweep across the other serebim in the room, most wearing expressions of both concern and shock. Finally she treated Seretique to eyes full of utter distaste before clattering off after the departed serebim, the passage way too narrow for flight.
It is for good reason that impundulu are referred to as "bad apples" for impundulu are as wild as the energies they wield and even the demon lord herself cannot fully control them. While Seretique had somewhat missed Tella's sullen glare, Damien had not. Instinctively he called forth the commander of the Citadel of Desire's military, instructing her to make sure the throne room remained secured.
It was just as she nodded her assent that a trumpet blared within the room, piercing the otherwise gloomy atmosphere. At first it was a single trumpet, but soon more and more began to add their call, eventually a host of trumpets erupted into a grand crescendo, those in the throne room wailed in fear and covered their pointed ears against the riot of sound... which ended as abruptly as it had begun. A few of Seretique's daughters sobbed or wept openly in terror, while their mother looked about her distraught. Finally she calmed herself and looked to Damien.
"What, what was that? Damien I'm-"
At that moment a Gan 'Ceanne, her outfit and midnight black hair slightly rumpled, her armour skew, burst into the throne room and immediately prostrated herself.
"Your Greatness! There is an enormous force gathering on the Ridge of Trepidation!"
Seretique gazed at the woman as if she were a rarely sighted unicorn before sitting on her throne heavily, she looked to Damien who turned his eyes back to the Gan 'Ceanne on the floor.
"Who are they Braennah? Do we face the Luminaire again? How great is their force?"
It finally appeared as if the Demon Lord had snapped out of her moment of shock, for she leaned forward in her throne and glared at Braennah.
"I would like to add that your attire is an absolute travesty, have you no sense of decorum?"
Braennah's ears coloured red at the tips as she continued to concentrate on the floor before her. Finally she managed to find her voice.
"I, I don't know who they are commander, I can say though that their force is growing as more and more take up position on the ridge. They appear capable of gating too."
Finally looking to Seretique, the Gan 'Ceanne set her face resolutely.
"With all due respect your greatness, I don't think my outfit is important at this time."
A dark expression drifted across the Demon Lord's features, as if a cloud drifting past the full moon, before being washed away just as quickly. She turned to her husband, her expression becoming serious.
"Have them get the 'view enhancers' from storage, I'm glad those rabbits showed us how to use them. We'll meet on the upper balcony."
Elsewhere, on the Ridge of Trepidation a honey haired goddess sat on a finely carved chair of prismatic birch. The golden wood appeared to shimmer as the sap which gave the tree its name, refracted the late morning sunlight.
"Now Eihy, while I applaud you for your sense of honour, I must say that warning them of our existence has cost us any chance of a preemptive attack, you really should think before you act."
The small, chiding voice seemed to emanate from thin air, and yet the strokes of a hairbrush, like a rake through fine, soft sand gave away the location of its master. A short young girl at the back of the chair, luscious red hair pulled into a no-nonsense braid and petite horns adorned with ribbons, continued to brush the hair of the Principal Goddess with the air of a mother brushing the hair of her beloved child. Her dainty pink wings, thumb spines wrapped in ribbons twitched in contentment. Eiraiha tried to turn to look at the Wendy while speaking to her, but drew in a gasp as the action sent a streak of pain through her scalp.
"I believe in things being done fair and square Lyssie, ow!"
The Wendy clucked to herself quietly and focused on an errant lock which had avoided her ministrations.
"Are you honestly brushing Her hair at this time Alyssum? We are about to take part in a serious battle with the world at stake, I don't think it will matter whether you have brushed out her hair or not by the end of it."
Clover Meadlowry, the Gentle Flame, clip clopped across the rock bestrewn ground, one of her hooves sending a six legged lizard fleeing for cover under a rock. Her large bosom rippled as if the surface of a great, flesh toned ocean. It appeared she had temporarily removed her breastplate so as to take advantage of her last chance before the battle to feel the sun on her body. A snowy white dirndl, laced with cherry pink ribbons gave her at least some measure of modesty. The diminutive succubus mock glared at her friend before placing the mother of pearl encrusted hairbrush on a small table beside her. She then placed her dainty hands upon the Principal Goddess' shoulders, drawing Her into a warm embrace from behind.
"Clover, my Eihy is going into a big battle today, I want Her to be perfect, the image of elegance for Her big showdown with Seretique vi Alloriel."
The Wendy released her embrace and proceeded to dip a delicate hand into a jar of ureonggaksi slime, rubbing the gel into her fingers she began applying it to Eiraiha's face. Clover snorted, tittering cheerfully.
"You dote on Her too much Lyssie~"
While the two friends heckled each other, Eiraiha herself allowed Her thoughts to drift, Demara was her true mother, but could she really think that way with Alyssum? She had essentially adopted her and she was sure that her mother herself would have approved of the petite Wendy.
Her eyes took in the ragged plain and the fortress ahead of her, so different from the lush, forested lands they had passed through. This area had been forcibly cleared to avoid surprises like that which she had originally intended before surveying the area. By announcing themselves Seretique would be on edge and people on edge tended to make mistakes, she couldn't believe that it had come to this, but she would not allow Malus to kill the Demon Lord.
He was also out there, somewhere, possibly engaged in battle. Well at least Liccitia was with him.. That thought actually irked Her, while she was happy that Her most special person had someone powerful with him, she was seeing the baphomet increasingly as that little sister in all of the popular mamonme romance novels. She was rapidly becoming the type that oft seduced the older sister's beau and she as Principal God was not going to allow that to happen any time soon.
She was jolted from Her thoughts a second later as a blur of white, black and tanned skin touched down next to Her. Tella and Maraina stood before Her, the commander looking fretfully at the young serebim whose face was drenched with tears. Rising from Her seat, much to the annoyance of Alyssum, She strode over to the dainty serebim and enfolded her in Her arms. Allowing a blessing of peace to fall upon the child She gazed up at the Impundulu.
"What happened Commander Morguis?"
The Impundulu let out a sigh before shaking her head, silvery hair fell in a silky cascade upon her lightmail pauldrons.
"That harlot of a mother would not listen to reason, she mocked her and would not even let her own daughter speak! I took her away from that nasty place the minute she left the room!"
Eiraiha patted her on the shoulder which drew a look of startled surprise from the silver haired bird woman.
"Take her far away from here, I hear mamonme are rioting in many of the kingdom's cities and towns. Perhaps you two can calm the situation a bit while I deal with Seretique."
The Impundulu still appeared doubtful so the Principal Goddess caught her eyes and smiled.
"Do not fear, I will not kill Seretique, it is my solemn promise to you as Principal God."
These words appeared to be enough. The commander merely nodded before carefully picking up the now sleeping Maraina - a silvery lock of hair hanging in front of her eyes - in her powerful, taloned claws and took to the skies, departing for the north.
Meanwhile, on a battlement of the Citadel of Desires, a group comprised of Seretique vi Alloriel, her husband, the commander of the fortress, a sorceress with a staff festooned with roses and three of the oldest of the Serebim took in the sweep of open ground which stretched outwards from the great keep. Grabbing one of the odd metallic devices which allowed one to see a hundred times further than normally possible, the demon lord surveyed the ridge top, observing the figures which swarmed like ants across its plateau. Noting the penants rippling in the breeze, her mouth twisted into a frown of intense displeasure.
"The Gentle Flame... that is who it is."
The Fortress Commander, a gan'ceann of formidable strength and height took her own viewer from those resting on a plush velvet cushion, embroidered in intricate hearts and raised it to her eyes.
"Eiraiha's pet? What would that deluded cow be doing here anyway? Last time I saw her she was looking for a peaceful audience with you... Quite well mannered that one."
The demon lord's serious expression melted into one of sheepishness, her cheeks coloured slightly.
"I may have had something to do with that, I went a little too far with her-"
"What do you mean a little too far? What did you do?"
Seretique put down her instrument and turned to face Korragae and Damien, the sorceress appeared curious, her husband wore an expression which appeared as if a storm brewing on a summer's day. The demon lord could not quite look them in the eyes, in fact her face took on such a look of wide eyed innocence, that it resembled guilt emblazoned on a penant hung directly above the main gate for the world to see. Damien now resembled a father chiding his daughter.
"All of it my dear."
Seretique flinched at those words.
"I grabbed Clover Meadlowry, lust addled her and her daughter, disrupted the ambassadorial meeting in Crystal Plinth, insulted the guests and picked a fight with Eiraiha... I might have killed a human accidentally too."
An expression of genuine regret washed over her face at that. The gan'ceanne commander however, glared at her openly before shutting her eyes and adopting an expression similar to that of Damien.
"All of those months spent negotiating.. For nothing! You-"
"Oh, what is everyone doing out here looking so tense?"
She was cut off however by a dark angel of middling stature. The woman wore an expression of mock regret and rather obvious conceit. Sauntering over to the cushion holding the view enhancers, her twin tails of hair swaying above her soot black wings, she grabbed one before looking at the others.
"So what are we looking at, hm?"
Korragae noticed a flash and focused on it, her expression drew up into one of bemusement.
"They have gateways, though not like anything I have ever seen. It appears there are a great deal of mamonme in the Gentle Flame's force too."
The dark angel brought the ridge into focus, paying special attention to the gateways mentioned, her jaw dropped as her eyebrows attempted to climb off her sublime forehead and take refuge in her midnight blue hair.
"Those aren't gateways... They're portals of glory! This isn't just the Gentle Flame, this is Heaven itself, the celestial host is here!"
Seretique appeared shocked and bewildered, she turned her eyes to Damien.
"Why are mamonme siding with the forces of Heaven?!"
Her husband turned to her wearily.
"You did not read the reports? The mamonme riots? Mamonme turning to Eiraiha? What have you been doing dear?"
The demon lord took in the mamonme who had begun flowing down from the ridge.
"I shall reach out to them, appeal to their conscience, they shall see reason, I know it!"
Concentrating intently, Seretique vi Alloriel stretched her influence towards the hordes of mamonme and humans who were now gathering at the base of the mountain... Her eyebrows mimicked the dark angel's, climbing up her forehead in utter distress as she let out a horrified wail.
"I - I can't hear them! Damien! I can't hear them at all! Why?!"
Noting his wife's disquiet, Damien wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders and turned to his daughters.
"Salaceasa, Clemaense, Lirabaelle, call your sisters together, your mother will do a roll call in ten minutes from now in the throne room, hurry!"
The three beautiful serebim bobbed their heads and almost tripped over each other as they bustled into the castle. He then turned to the Citadel's Commander.
"Aoifaela, marshal the kingdom's armies, if you have to, send word to the Taint Pledged, we will need every soldier we can get."
Aoifaela saluted briskly, her silver and violet armour glinting in the morning sun. She turned and headed back into the fortress as the raven haired dark angel set down her own implement and hurried off after her. She threw her gaze back over her shoulder.
"I will get word to my mistress immediately, she will have some gentry, grimwailers and Nephyrum on the field within the hour!"
Holding the demon lord to his chest, Damien looked towards the ridge, this was a mess if ever there was one, would Eiraiha ever set aside her animosity for Seretique?
Spoiler: show
“Now promise me you will be careful father.”
A seemingly youthful girl with two spiky, blonde tails of hair gave the straps on her father's breastplate, the breast covered in what appeared to be thick glass a determined tug and after tying them tightly, proceeded to feed them into some gilded clasps.
“I promise dear, however I expect you to do the same, are we clear?”
The grizzled, middle aged man regarded his daughter who nodded quickly before focusing on his slightly battered, yet similarly encrusted greaves.
“Now listen to me father, I have enchanted your armour with my special glass, it will turn away most arrows and blades, but I don't want you to get ahead of yourself. WhiIe it will keep you safe, if an enemy uses anything acidic it will be weakened. I can also feel some perception baubles forming close to the castle, don't go anywhere near it!”
Maua watched her father with the greatest of concern. She had lost her mother who had ended her own life when the law had proclaimed her guilty of cruelty and mistreatment of her own child. It was true that she had performed all kinds of experiments on her in an attempt to stop her from the seemingly inevitable fall or ascension to that of sorceress. Shivering at the memories, she took solace in the fact that the responsibility of caring for herself and her father had forced her to grow up mentally and had also provided the twin benefit of giving her a reason to strive to remain a magical girl.
Sighing she regarded her shaping paddles, the long handles wrapped in aranaei silk ribbons and the flats encased in glass. If her father lost to a mamonme it would be okay, he would be safe, it would just mean she would gain a stepmother, however she could not shake the feeling...
“Just be careful father, I know you are loyal to Lady Eiraiha, but we shouldn't be here, just... just don't do anything rash.”
Meanwhile deep within the Citadel of Desire, in the decadent throne room of the Demon Lord, a bevy of mind numbing beauties stood gathered before the Throne of Passions. The daughters of Seretique otherwise known as Serebim chatted nervously with each other, waiting for their mother to arrive. Hands fidgeted or played with tails, smoothed expensive skirts or ran through lustruous hair skittishly. As leathery wings of a mauve hue flexed restlessly, some wept openly. Many of the Serebim had already been informed by personal servants of what was happening outside and were terrified.
Their mother sauntered into the room dressed for battle. A tight obsidian corset encompassed her upper torso. While gaps in the armour, strategically placed to offer tantalising glimpses of the form beneath might have seemed like weakspots, they were in fact filled with a durable material known only to the most ancient of succubi. Her warskirt, made of a tough ichor leather and studded with steel terminated in silvery heart designs along its hem. Pauldrons of an unknown steel and crafted to resemble a bat's wings covered her shoulders and protected her upper arms and sublime neck. The room grew quiet instantly.
“Lights! I want light at once!”
Immediately the room was illuminated with radiant sunshine. It was a marvel left over from a time when the angels of mercy had once operated this keep. Strange threads ran throughout the fortress, emerging on the roof of the Citadel of Desire. Amazingly at the flick of a switch sunlight could be conveyed from outside to any point in the keep. It was also a suitable tactic for bullying vampires who had grown too big for their cloaks.
The now brightened room revealed banks of ARE's, brought in earlier by the palace attendants and arrayed along the portrait bedecked walls. A throng of mamonme stood beside each device. Some were cukaliki in frilly maid's outfits, others were incubi, a few androges and even a few succubi in enticing outfits which seemed a mockery of the flounced outfits seen earlier. Seretique nodded to herself before addressing her daughters.
“We will be taking roll call in a minute my sweethearts, mommy's going to take care of everything so don't panic, I promise no harm will come to my precious little girls.”
That said the Demon Lord gave the attendants a purposeful glance and each began dialing the necessary sequence to call the serebim not in the citadel. Smiling at their agreeable speed, Seretique sent a warning prompt mentally to all of her daughters. It had been explained to each since childhood that receiving this feeling meant serious trouble. The comely queen cleared her sublime throat.
“Marisaelle.”
“Here!”
“Ater.”
“Here,” the gloomy eyed serebim peered at her mother who could clearly see the fear in her posture.
“Bonnwique.”
“Here.”
“Amalthea.”
“Here.”
“Anselma.”
“Here, mother,” the serebim clutched her great hammer, her eyes flitting around the room as if anticipating a sneak attack.
“Lokaeli.”
“Here,” her voice sounded from one of the many spinning ARE's, the silvery spines now performing an elegant dance.
“Cleramelle.”
“Here.”
“Salaceasa.”
“Here~”
Meanwhile at the base of the ridge, an army of humans, angels, seraphim, youkami, mamonme, incubi and other beings gathered in a loose formation. A simple blonde haired lamia slithered amongst them, her rainbow banded eyes speaking to who She really was. It was a great plan, no-one looking through even view enhancers would suspect a lamia of being the captain of the force, let alone the Principal God Herself.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come for us to end the demon lord's incompetence. You have all waited a long time for the day when you could proudly call yourselves mamonme, and that day is at hand.”
Mamonme shifted nervously as the lamia slithered past. A lizardkin with bows decorating a silver circlet adjusted her belt and armour, before her four toed feet dug into the dirt displaying the butterflies dancing in her toned stomach.
“For a long time we have allowed Seretique to do what she wanted. While she was given grace to solve the problems facing your kind she has instead squandered it.”
A penant flapped in the breeze as if applauding the statement. A few mamonme tensed, a minotauride notably growling in anger over her demon lord's poor use of the time alotted to her. A human in tough armour, more than likely her husband squeezed her toned bicep causing her face to turn pink with embarrassment, he whispered something in her ear causing her to flash a winning grin at him. Below, forces were already swarming out of the citadel and beginning to form ranks. Horsemen orbited the growing army. Their capes streaming out behind them and their heads held securely in place atop their armour.
What first appeared to be oozing pits of dark, roiling mist, sprouted upwards as infernal gates opened before the keep. Armies of dark angels and gentry sauntered out onto the battlefield. Above, wearing battlerobes and fanning themselves or allowing other gentry and even mamonme to perform the task, nephyrum emerged from the portals and began giving relaxed, almost drawled commands. It appeared the grimwailers were held back at the rear of the force this time. More than likely due to the danger they posed to the Demon Lord's forces. Bands of dark haired, pale skinned men and women suddenly emerged, as if melting out of the air from around the boundaries of the keep and began forming their own ranks. Several mamonme shied away from them, eyes darting towards them and back in both mistrust and fear. Taint pledged did not care for anyone, even mamonme on their own side and were greatly feared by most of their kind.
“But today is the day of reckoning. I swear to all of those gathered here that Seretique vi Alloriel will be subdued on this day.”
A lorelei visibly flinched, but the lamia stopped, turning to cup her soft face in her hands.
“Fear not, I will not kill her. This is my pledge to all of you who are present. While I cannot agree with any of the woman's behaviour as of late, I will merely subdue her and transfer her energies to a mamonme more befitting of her station.”
Many mamonme let out a relieved sigh, the sound sweeping across the force like a morning breeze. The celestial lamia turned to her audience with a stern look upon her face.
“Be careful out there, while mamonme from her forces will more than likely pacify you rather than kill, show no mercy to Nephyrum or Taint Pledged combatants. If they are on the field, then they will show you no mercy regardless. You must be vigilant at all times. While I believe in all of you and bless you from the bottom of my heart-”
A ripple of Heavenly energy washed through the crowd as if a giant wave in the ocean.
“Some of you will be captured and others...”
The golden haired snake woman's eyes filled with tears.
“Just know now, that what you do today, will be the turning point for mamonme. It will echo throughout the coming generations.. So let's take victory this day!”
A roaring cheer rose up from the forces of the Gentle Flame, one so loud it made it to the ears of the forces below, some of the mamonme turned to each other confused.
“What's going on up there?”
“Don't know, but I'd pay little attention to those traitors-”
A passing gan ceanne horseman shushed the pair, before returning to her circuit around the swelling ranks.
Inside the Citadel of Desires, Seretique vi Alloriel sat on her throne. Most of her oldest daughters had been both accounted for and evacuated through the many gateways found throughout her fortress. Anselma had been a headache, complaining that she should be out on the battlefield and not spirited away like some coward.
They were now reaching the middle children and she was becoming increasingly agitated. The majority of this agitation stemmed from the guilt now wracking her wings and shoulders over how she had treated her youngest earlier. She dragged her increasingly anxious thoughts back from the pit they were attempting to bury themselves in. This was no time for trying to escape from reality and with this in mind the demon lord lifted her sublime face to gaze at the servants of the keep.
“Nauka.”
Nothing, the ARE continued to hum purposefully, a cukaliki maid turned an inquiring gaze to her waiting mistress.
“Nauka!”
Still no response and Seretique had finally had enough, hurling a goblet of aluraune mead proffered to her by an attendant incubus onto the floor, she rose from her guilded seat.
“Aillaeah's Tears! Where is that child?! Did she not receive my sending?!”
“She's not going to answer mother.”
A flat toned response from the door made her whirl on her heels to face her oldest daughter.
“What are you talking about Cleramelle? I sent her a mental missive, of course she will answer, it's for her own safety!”
The serebim regarded her mother with a slightly raised chin, her words were as though frost.
“Mother, I visited her not too long ago in Initium you see. You cut her allowance while increasing Jeirallele's own. A daughter who did not deserve a raise in the first place. When last I was there she was living with her two maids who merely serve her due to bonds of friendship. There is no security at her home, no ARE, it had to be sold for living funds and she is now taking on dangerous quests in order to make ends meet. She could barely scrape together the funds for a decent tea. You have a lot of explaining to do mother.”
The demon lord crumpled into her chair in disbelief.
“My own little precious one with no means of contact, no security and no food, putting herself in harm's way and with nothing to aid her survival?!”
Seretique seemed on the verge of hysterics as she sobbed on her dazzling throne.
“What have I been doing?! Sob! I remember sending that letter, what was I thinking?!”
“Evidently not much mother.”
The demon lord raised her face, streaked with hot, angry tears and glared at her oldest daughter.
“Don't you take that tone with me Cleramelle, I have made a real gulon's mess out of this, but don't think I will allow one of my daughters to stand before me like this.”
Cleramelle simply turned on her heels and sauntered out of the room, her heels clicking on the marble floor.
“Remember mother, you harvest what you sow. You are going to need to fix this. Just promise me I will not see a repeat performance of earlier. I was particularly appalled by your treatment of Maraina.”
Damien vi Alloriel loomed over a large, sturdy wooden table covered by a sprawling map of the terrain surrounding the Citadel of Desires. His hands clasped behind his back and tail twitching behind him, he looked at the pieces being assembled courtesy of the information streaming in from scouts observing the battlefield with their view enhancers. A harpy stole up beside him, her teal hued tresses bouncing with each step. Handing her commander a parchment containing the latest reports gleaned from one of her small flock.
“Thanks Eider-”
The incubus looked at the gan ceanne now filling the room. Several highly ranked sorceresses including his wife's sisterwife had also entered and were now intent on the map before them. Several of the mamonme placed odd orb shaped globs of energy on the map apparently referring to other perception baubles which only they could detect. Damien turned his gaze back to the harpy who had begun to fidget restlessly. Handing her an ornately waxed envelope the Demon Lord's husband met her eyes.
“-you are to deliver this letter to the Princesses of the Ocean at their island in the Celabrylassic immediately, a message will be sent ahead via ARE, but failing this method your message must reach them.”
Turning to an ARE positioned on a corner of the surface before him he leaned close.
“Ms. Eider is to wear the mid afternoon number, sky shade 30.”
This was a special light armour created to minimise detection by taking into account the colour of the sky. Anybody observing from below would be hard pressed to spot the harpy as she passed over. Eider bobbed a bow and hurried out of the room with the letter finding its way into a pouch worn around her waist.
Turning to the Gan Ceanne, Damien spoke with a measured tone.
“Status report ladies.”
One of the mamonme, her midnight black hair framing a face held in the crook of her arm stepped forward.
“Sir, while we do appreciate your efforts, we do believe you should evacuate to a safer location and let us handle matters here.”
The incubus sighed and returned his gaze to the maps before him.
“Captain Aislinn, while I appreciate your thoughts, I believe that a cat si wearing gloves cannot catch mice... I should stay and make sure my wife's defence is formidable.”
The mamonme used her upper and lower arm to nod her head.
“Noted sir, ladies if you please~”
A pale haired Gan Ceanne stepped forward, her hair intricately plaited.
“Captain Beibhinn of the forward citadel defences sir, my constables report that the barbican is fully captained.”
Next it was the turn of an indigo tressed gan ceanne, her hair cut into a short, no nonsense style.
“Captain Ciara at you service, I wish to report that the lower bailey is ready for action sir.”
Damien nodded thoughtfully and rubbed his temples in thought.
“How about the main bailey?”
Another flaxen haired gan ceanne stepped forward, this mamonme with her haired tied up neatly in a bun with a tail of hair hanging off its side.
“That would be I, Captain Eithne my lord. The main bailey Is fully garrisoned and ready.”
The Commander smiled grimly, if the main stations fell it would be havoc for them all. Where was she? The instigater of this attack had not yet made an appearance which seemed rather odd. He opened the parchment procured from Eider and read the reports. Only a blonde lamia had been seen amongst the invading army...
“It couldn't be.. She hates mamonme doesn't she?”
Damien fiddled with end of his tail before looking at the the other gathered in the chamber.
“Keep an eye out for a blonde lamia, I believe Eiraiha may be disguising herself. Let's throw off these invaders for once and for all.”
The gan ceanne nodded and bowed before departing.
Meanwhile back on the hill Eiraiha stood before a doll-like sorceress. She now resembled a red headed Wendy with rainbow hued eyes. This had been a suggestion from one of the mercenaries of Ithus, to keep Her form changing to hide Her identity.
In order to cross the battlefield more stealthily a sorceress would escort Her and Clover from within her bauble to the castle before them. To any other sorceress it would just appear to be another of their kind on the battlefield.. A pretty ingenious plan if She didn't say so Herself. The sorceress fidgeted with her fingers before turning her eyes to the Principal God.
“Umm.. L – Lady Eiraiha, Lady Meadlowry, before we do this I just want to make certain, you know about my kind right?”
Eiraiha nodded, a soft expression on her face. The bovitauride at her side wore a similar expression.
“A-and you do know that what you two are about to see is the inside of my soul and mind? It is very personal and I have not shown it to many people.”
The Principal Goddess searched the sorceress's eyes, which suddenly looked away in embarrassment. This woman was circling her point like a mosquito that doesn't know whether to land or not. Clover shouldered her large iron shield emblazoned with a flame.
“Cordaelyn, you need not fear letting us see this, we know that your past as with most of your kind will feature some sort of trauma.”
The sorceress seemed to pull herself back together and that and nodded. A hole opened in the air, pulled open by a few dolls, one's face cracked and splintered. With a sweep of her doll-like hand the sorceress beckoned them in, she turned her head slightly as if ashamed.
“Just remember, please don't judge.”
And with that Eiraiha and her companion and adopted sister Clover Meadlowry temporarily disappeared from reality.
A seemingly youthful girl with two spiky, blonde tails of hair gave the straps on her father's breastplate, the breast covered in what appeared to be thick glass a determined tug and after tying them tightly, proceeded to feed them into some gilded clasps.
“I promise dear, however I expect you to do the same, are we clear?”
The grizzled, middle aged man regarded his daughter who nodded quickly before focusing on his slightly battered, yet similarly encrusted greaves.
“Now listen to me father, I have enchanted your armour with my special glass, it will turn away most arrows and blades, but I don't want you to get ahead of yourself. WhiIe it will keep you safe, if an enemy uses anything acidic it will be weakened. I can also feel some perception baubles forming close to the castle, don't go anywhere near it!”
Maua watched her father with the greatest of concern. She had lost her mother who had ended her own life when the law had proclaimed her guilty of cruelty and mistreatment of her own child. It was true that she had performed all kinds of experiments on her in an attempt to stop her from the seemingly inevitable fall or ascension to that of sorceress. Shivering at the memories, she took solace in the fact that the responsibility of caring for herself and her father had forced her to grow up mentally and had also provided the twin benefit of giving her a reason to strive to remain a magical girl.
Sighing she regarded her shaping paddles, the long handles wrapped in aranaei silk ribbons and the flats encased in glass. If her father lost to a mamonme it would be okay, he would be safe, it would just mean she would gain a stepmother, however she could not shake the feeling...
“Just be careful father, I know you are loyal to Lady Eiraiha, but we shouldn't be here, just... just don't do anything rash.”
Meanwhile deep within the Citadel of Desire, in the decadent throne room of the Demon Lord, a bevy of mind numbing beauties stood gathered before the Throne of Passions. The daughters of Seretique otherwise known as Serebim chatted nervously with each other, waiting for their mother to arrive. Hands fidgeted or played with tails, smoothed expensive skirts or ran through lustruous hair skittishly. As leathery wings of a mauve hue flexed restlessly, some wept openly. Many of the Serebim had already been informed by personal servants of what was happening outside and were terrified.
Their mother sauntered into the room dressed for battle. A tight obsidian corset encompassed her upper torso. While gaps in the armour, strategically placed to offer tantalising glimpses of the form beneath might have seemed like weakspots, they were in fact filled with a durable material known only to the most ancient of succubi. Her warskirt, made of a tough ichor leather and studded with steel terminated in silvery heart designs along its hem. Pauldrons of an unknown steel and crafted to resemble a bat's wings covered her shoulders and protected her upper arms and sublime neck. The room grew quiet instantly.
“Lights! I want light at once!”
Immediately the room was illuminated with radiant sunshine. It was a marvel left over from a time when the angels of mercy had once operated this keep. Strange threads ran throughout the fortress, emerging on the roof of the Citadel of Desire. Amazingly at the flick of a switch sunlight could be conveyed from outside to any point in the keep. It was also a suitable tactic for bullying vampires who had grown too big for their cloaks.
The now brightened room revealed banks of ARE's, brought in earlier by the palace attendants and arrayed along the portrait bedecked walls. A throng of mamonme stood beside each device. Some were cukaliki in frilly maid's outfits, others were incubi, a few androges and even a few succubi in enticing outfits which seemed a mockery of the flounced outfits seen earlier. Seretique nodded to herself before addressing her daughters.
“We will be taking roll call in a minute my sweethearts, mommy's going to take care of everything so don't panic, I promise no harm will come to my precious little girls.”
That said the Demon Lord gave the attendants a purposeful glance and each began dialing the necessary sequence to call the serebim not in the citadel. Smiling at their agreeable speed, Seretique sent a warning prompt mentally to all of her daughters. It had been explained to each since childhood that receiving this feeling meant serious trouble. The comely queen cleared her sublime throat.
“Marisaelle.”
“Here!”
“Ater.”
“Here,” the gloomy eyed serebim peered at her mother who could clearly see the fear in her posture.
“Bonnwique.”
“Here.”
“Amalthea.”
“Here.”
“Anselma.”
“Here, mother,” the serebim clutched her great hammer, her eyes flitting around the room as if anticipating a sneak attack.
“Lokaeli.”
“Here,” her voice sounded from one of the many spinning ARE's, the silvery spines now performing an elegant dance.
“Cleramelle.”
“Here.”
“Salaceasa.”
“Here~”
Meanwhile at the base of the ridge, an army of humans, angels, seraphim, youkami, mamonme, incubi and other beings gathered in a loose formation. A simple blonde haired lamia slithered amongst them, her rainbow banded eyes speaking to who She really was. It was a great plan, no-one looking through even view enhancers would suspect a lamia of being the captain of the force, let alone the Principal God Herself.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come for us to end the demon lord's incompetence. You have all waited a long time for the day when you could proudly call yourselves mamonme, and that day is at hand.”
Mamonme shifted nervously as the lamia slithered past. A lizardkin with bows decorating a silver circlet adjusted her belt and armour, before her four toed feet dug into the dirt displaying the butterflies dancing in her toned stomach.
“For a long time we have allowed Seretique to do what she wanted. While she was given grace to solve the problems facing your kind she has instead squandered it.”
A penant flapped in the breeze as if applauding the statement. A few mamonme tensed, a minotauride notably growling in anger over her demon lord's poor use of the time alotted to her. A human in tough armour, more than likely her husband squeezed her toned bicep causing her face to turn pink with embarrassment, he whispered something in her ear causing her to flash a winning grin at him. Below, forces were already swarming out of the citadel and beginning to form ranks. Horsemen orbited the growing army. Their capes streaming out behind them and their heads held securely in place atop their armour.
What first appeared to be oozing pits of dark, roiling mist, sprouted upwards as infernal gates opened before the keep. Armies of dark angels and gentry sauntered out onto the battlefield. Above, wearing battlerobes and fanning themselves or allowing other gentry and even mamonme to perform the task, nephyrum emerged from the portals and began giving relaxed, almost drawled commands. It appeared the grimwailers were held back at the rear of the force this time. More than likely due to the danger they posed to the Demon Lord's forces. Bands of dark haired, pale skinned men and women suddenly emerged, as if melting out of the air from around the boundaries of the keep and began forming their own ranks. Several mamonme shied away from them, eyes darting towards them and back in both mistrust and fear. Taint pledged did not care for anyone, even mamonme on their own side and were greatly feared by most of their kind.
“But today is the day of reckoning. I swear to all of those gathered here that Seretique vi Alloriel will be subdued on this day.”
A lorelei visibly flinched, but the lamia stopped, turning to cup her soft face in her hands.
“Fear not, I will not kill her. This is my pledge to all of you who are present. While I cannot agree with any of the woman's behaviour as of late, I will merely subdue her and transfer her energies to a mamonme more befitting of her station.”
Many mamonme let out a relieved sigh, the sound sweeping across the force like a morning breeze. The celestial lamia turned to her audience with a stern look upon her face.
“Be careful out there, while mamonme from her forces will more than likely pacify you rather than kill, show no mercy to Nephyrum or Taint Pledged combatants. If they are on the field, then they will show you no mercy regardless. You must be vigilant at all times. While I believe in all of you and bless you from the bottom of my heart-”
A ripple of Heavenly energy washed through the crowd as if a giant wave in the ocean.
“Some of you will be captured and others...”
The golden haired snake woman's eyes filled with tears.
“Just know now, that what you do today, will be the turning point for mamonme. It will echo throughout the coming generations.. So let's take victory this day!”
A roaring cheer rose up from the forces of the Gentle Flame, one so loud it made it to the ears of the forces below, some of the mamonme turned to each other confused.
“What's going on up there?”
“Don't know, but I'd pay little attention to those traitors-”
A passing gan ceanne horseman shushed the pair, before returning to her circuit around the swelling ranks.
Inside the Citadel of Desires, Seretique vi Alloriel sat on her throne. Most of her oldest daughters had been both accounted for and evacuated through the many gateways found throughout her fortress. Anselma had been a headache, complaining that she should be out on the battlefield and not spirited away like some coward.
They were now reaching the middle children and she was becoming increasingly agitated. The majority of this agitation stemmed from the guilt now wracking her wings and shoulders over how she had treated her youngest earlier. She dragged her increasingly anxious thoughts back from the pit they were attempting to bury themselves in. This was no time for trying to escape from reality and with this in mind the demon lord lifted her sublime face to gaze at the servants of the keep.
“Nauka.”
Nothing, the ARE continued to hum purposefully, a cukaliki maid turned an inquiring gaze to her waiting mistress.
“Nauka!”
Still no response and Seretique had finally had enough, hurling a goblet of aluraune mead proffered to her by an attendant incubus onto the floor, she rose from her guilded seat.
“Aillaeah's Tears! Where is that child?! Did she not receive my sending?!”
“She's not going to answer mother.”
A flat toned response from the door made her whirl on her heels to face her oldest daughter.
“What are you talking about Cleramelle? I sent her a mental missive, of course she will answer, it's for her own safety!”
The serebim regarded her mother with a slightly raised chin, her words were as though frost.
“Mother, I visited her not too long ago in Initium you see. You cut her allowance while increasing Jeirallele's own. A daughter who did not deserve a raise in the first place. When last I was there she was living with her two maids who merely serve her due to bonds of friendship. There is no security at her home, no ARE, it had to be sold for living funds and she is now taking on dangerous quests in order to make ends meet. She could barely scrape together the funds for a decent tea. You have a lot of explaining to do mother.”
The demon lord crumpled into her chair in disbelief.
“My own little precious one with no means of contact, no security and no food, putting herself in harm's way and with nothing to aid her survival?!”
Seretique seemed on the verge of hysterics as she sobbed on her dazzling throne.
“What have I been doing?! Sob! I remember sending that letter, what was I thinking?!”
“Evidently not much mother.”
The demon lord raised her face, streaked with hot, angry tears and glared at her oldest daughter.
“Don't you take that tone with me Cleramelle, I have made a real gulon's mess out of this, but don't think I will allow one of my daughters to stand before me like this.”
Cleramelle simply turned on her heels and sauntered out of the room, her heels clicking on the marble floor.
“Remember mother, you harvest what you sow. You are going to need to fix this. Just promise me I will not see a repeat performance of earlier. I was particularly appalled by your treatment of Maraina.”
Damien vi Alloriel loomed over a large, sturdy wooden table covered by a sprawling map of the terrain surrounding the Citadel of Desires. His hands clasped behind his back and tail twitching behind him, he looked at the pieces being assembled courtesy of the information streaming in from scouts observing the battlefield with their view enhancers. A harpy stole up beside him, her teal hued tresses bouncing with each step. Handing her commander a parchment containing the latest reports gleaned from one of her small flock.
“Thanks Eider-”
The incubus looked at the gan ceanne now filling the room. Several highly ranked sorceresses including his wife's sisterwife had also entered and were now intent on the map before them. Several of the mamonme placed odd orb shaped globs of energy on the map apparently referring to other perception baubles which only they could detect. Damien turned his gaze back to the harpy who had begun to fidget restlessly. Handing her an ornately waxed envelope the Demon Lord's husband met her eyes.
“-you are to deliver this letter to the Princesses of the Ocean at their island in the Celabrylassic immediately, a message will be sent ahead via ARE, but failing this method your message must reach them.”
Turning to an ARE positioned on a corner of the surface before him he leaned close.
“Ms. Eider is to wear the mid afternoon number, sky shade 30.”
This was a special light armour created to minimise detection by taking into account the colour of the sky. Anybody observing from below would be hard pressed to spot the harpy as she passed over. Eider bobbed a bow and hurried out of the room with the letter finding its way into a pouch worn around her waist.
Turning to the Gan Ceanne, Damien spoke with a measured tone.
“Status report ladies.”
One of the mamonme, her midnight black hair framing a face held in the crook of her arm stepped forward.
“Sir, while we do appreciate your efforts, we do believe you should evacuate to a safer location and let us handle matters here.”
The incubus sighed and returned his gaze to the maps before him.
“Captain Aislinn, while I appreciate your thoughts, I believe that a cat si wearing gloves cannot catch mice... I should stay and make sure my wife's defence is formidable.”
The mamonme used her upper and lower arm to nod her head.
“Noted sir, ladies if you please~”
A pale haired Gan Ceanne stepped forward, her hair intricately plaited.
“Captain Beibhinn of the forward citadel defences sir, my constables report that the barbican is fully captained.”
Next it was the turn of an indigo tressed gan ceanne, her hair cut into a short, no nonsense style.
“Captain Ciara at you service, I wish to report that the lower bailey is ready for action sir.”
Damien nodded thoughtfully and rubbed his temples in thought.
“How about the main bailey?”
Another flaxen haired gan ceanne stepped forward, this mamonme with her haired tied up neatly in a bun with a tail of hair hanging off its side.
“That would be I, Captain Eithne my lord. The main bailey Is fully garrisoned and ready.”
The Commander smiled grimly, if the main stations fell it would be havoc for them all. Where was she? The instigater of this attack had not yet made an appearance which seemed rather odd. He opened the parchment procured from Eider and read the reports. Only a blonde lamia had been seen amongst the invading army...
“It couldn't be.. She hates mamonme doesn't she?”
Damien fiddled with end of his tail before looking at the the other gathered in the chamber.
“Keep an eye out for a blonde lamia, I believe Eiraiha may be disguising herself. Let's throw off these invaders for once and for all.”
The gan ceanne nodded and bowed before departing.
Meanwhile back on the hill Eiraiha stood before a doll-like sorceress. She now resembled a red headed Wendy with rainbow hued eyes. This had been a suggestion from one of the mercenaries of Ithus, to keep Her form changing to hide Her identity.
In order to cross the battlefield more stealthily a sorceress would escort Her and Clover from within her bauble to the castle before them. To any other sorceress it would just appear to be another of their kind on the battlefield.. A pretty ingenious plan if She didn't say so Herself. The sorceress fidgeted with her fingers before turning her eyes to the Principal God.
“Umm.. L – Lady Eiraiha, Lady Meadlowry, before we do this I just want to make certain, you know about my kind right?”
Eiraiha nodded, a soft expression on her face. The bovitauride at her side wore a similar expression.
“A-and you do know that what you two are about to see is the inside of my soul and mind? It is very personal and I have not shown it to many people.”
The Principal Goddess searched the sorceress's eyes, which suddenly looked away in embarrassment. This woman was circling her point like a mosquito that doesn't know whether to land or not. Clover shouldered her large iron shield emblazoned with a flame.
“Cordaelyn, you need not fear letting us see this, we know that your past as with most of your kind will feature some sort of trauma.”
The sorceress seemed to pull herself back together and that and nodded. A hole opened in the air, pulled open by a few dolls, one's face cracked and splintered. With a sweep of her doll-like hand the sorceress beckoned them in, she turned her head slightly as if ashamed.
“Just remember, please don't judge.”
And with that Eiraiha and her companion and adopted sister Clover Meadlowry temporarily disappeared from reality.
