Asmodeus sat on his throne, beside him his many lovers and below two wounded, tired messengers. Their hair was greasy and full of sweat, their bodies still bloody and caked in mud from rushing to the south desperately.
If not for Paul and Simon taking the new Royal Guard out to train, these men would never have reached this point.
"Is this information correct?" He asked the two wounded messengers, his face grim and voice like a growl.
"Y-Yes My Lord!"
The two men turned pale, terrified of Asmodeus, which made him feel guilty. He signalled to the side. "Have them fed, cleaned, and rested well. They've done a great service to both kingdoms, treat them like noble guests."
Without their message, Asmodeus had not planned to return to the north for a month. But learning what happened changed his moment of calm. He couldn't delay any longer; there was no time to enjoy his victory over the mainland.
