The walk to the town hall of Chastinal, where Diamor is currently dwelling in the cellar of, is mercifully silent for several long minutes. To say there's an odd tension to the air now would be an understatement. Serafall wants to say something, be it a scathing remark or some form of idle conversation, but she simply doesn't know how.
For a while, I'm almost content to simply dwell in the silence, to not bother with conversation and risk shattering the small, delicate moment of peace we had in my lodgings. Unfortunately, if there is one thing that Serafall is, it's determined.
"...you're pretty sloppy, Ali."
I blink, having not expected her to say anything close to that as I turn and raise a brow at her, folding my arms and trying not to let my annoyance show.
"I assume you're talking about our fight? My technique needs work, yes, but thankfully I have more than enough versatility to make up for my lack of finesse."
She hums, tilting her head as she glances at me from the corner of her eye, her gaze focused pointedly at the town hall as she walks with her hands behind her head.
"I meant in general. Against Diamor, against me. You've got a lot of power, but you're kinda trash when it comes to using it. You're lucky you've got that bullshit healing to cover up for your mistakes."
I bite down the urge to call her a brat who still lost to my 'trash technique', settling instead for something more neutral for fear of falling into familiar territory and calling her a prick on nothing but sheer instinct.
"...should I feel flattered, or insulted? You're giving me mixed signals here, Sera."
To my surprise, she laughs, dropping her hands from her head to rest behind her back, walking with a concerning amount of giddiness in her every step.
"Both, if you want. Doesn't change the fact that you're pretty bad at fighting on a technical level. Those punches of yours? Left a lot to be desired."
I snort, rolling my eyes against my best wishes.
"In case you forgot, those punches put you on your ass... oh, and let's not ignore the fact that I won our fight, Sera."
I barely have time to finish the words before she starts laughing, as if being in on a joke I know nothing about. She looks at me, finally, and I see far more mirth in her eyes than I would like to be seeing.
"...you really think that was me going all out? You're strong, Ali, but let's not forget I had you trapped. Had we been fighting to the death, that would have been it for you."
My jaw tenses, something that I'm finding more and more common as days pass. I can't deny that she had me stuck, that I was entirely at her mercy at one point, but that doesn't mean I'll accept her dishonesty.
"You had me, that I'll concede... but don't pretend you're hiding some ace up your sleeve, or that you've got some shitty transformation power tucked away. I know you're not. If you and I were to go one on one, in a straight fight to the death... I think I'd win five times out of ten."
Again, she laughs, glancing at me skeptically.
"Five times... out of ten? Damn, Ali. When did you get so full of yourself?"
I scoff, my fingers tapping rhythmically against my bicep now, be it in annoyance or impatience I've no idea.
"Saying full of yourself implies that my ego isn't justified. After all the shit I've survived, and all the despicable bastards I've had to put a sword through, I think I've earned the right to blow smoke up my own ass."
She huffs, smirking at me now. I can't decide if it's insufferable or distinctly annoying.
"Oh, really? That's where the ego comes from? You sure you're not just having a power trip after what happened with us?"
I barely even spare her a glance, barking out a sharp laugh at her words.
"Seems like you've got just as much an ego as I do if you think my self-image revolves solely around you, Sera. No, my pride isn't built on the calibre of the women I've entangled myself with. It's built on the plethora of bullshit I've survived in my life."
For a moment, I almost think she's going to get offended at my words. Thankfully, after several seconds of silence, she just lets out a sharp exhale and looks away.
"...I guess you have survived a lot more than anyone expected from you. Maybe you've earned the right to be a little smug. Still sloppy in a battle, though. Real sloppy."
I roll my eyes again, smiling in spite of my best efforts at the backhanded compliment.
"My sloppiness comes from being entirely self taught, Sera. Outside of when I'm using Caduceus, I'm an amateur in every way. A few months of training ain't got shit on the decades of experience from most other Devils I'm up against."
She hums, tilting her head again and mulling over my words for a moment, going so far as to tap her chin.
"Most Devils don't really bother training. At least, most of the ones that live cushy lives among Ars Goetia. You'd be surprised how many Clan Devils just look at their Trait and think oh, great, I'm invincible now."
I raise a brow, not believing her in the slightest.
"You're telling me there's a brutal war being raged every day, and there's still morons with nifty tricks that think yeah, I'll be fine, and just don't bother training? I can't see a world where Bidleid would accept that behaviour from any of his Loyalists."
Sera furrows her brows, looking at me with something akin to a smirk.
"You think you know Bidleid just cause you spent an hour together at best? Trust me, you don't. Satan Beelzebub believes in the sanctity of order. He believes that we all have a place in this world from birth, and that some people are simply destined to be worthless forever while others are destined to rule. Why do you think he's so obsessed with you? You're a walking contradiction to everything he spent decades preaching. A half-breed, with absurd strength."
...that makes me pause, for just a moment. My stride falters briefly, my thoughts freezing in place near enough.
"I always thought he was just angry that I got away that day. Pissed off that I played him. I didn't expect him to be a fucking determinist, that's for sure."
She laughs again, folding her arms to match me as she stares at me with something I'm hesitant to call pity.
"I wouldn't say determinist. More so just... Ars Goetian supremacist? Blood scours the blade, or some shit. I don't remember his old motto. Point is, you didn't just 'get one past him' or catch him with his pants down. You made him think. Unlike when he fell depressed after Sirzechs first brought him to heel, you've somehow made him more determined than ever."
My fingers clench around my arm, a subconscious action that quickly becomes very, very conscious as I stare ahead.
"...He won't underestimate me a second time. I know that much. I also don't care. He can be obsessed, he can ask questions about my place in the world and how I've fucked over his view of it all. It doesn't matter. By the time we next meet at the gates of Lucifaad, I'll be far too powerful for any of his planning to account for."
The town hall is in view, now. A few armoured Satanihilus stand guard at the doors, faces obscured by the helmets they wear. I'd almost be unsure of who they work under, were it not for the pink streak across their chestplates, indicative of loyalty to Serafall if I had to guess.
Before I can take another step toward it, Serafall's arm shoots out to stop me, her hand splayed out across my chest. She turns to me, her expression far more grave and serious than I'd expect to see.
"...don't get cocky, Ali. Everyone thinks they're hot shit, until they aren't. I'd hate to see you die at Bidleid's hand."
She pulls her arm away and walks forward without missing a beat, barely even glancing back at me as the Satanihilus bow to her and open the entrance. I'm left sat in that same spot for several long seconds, her words ringing in my ears like I've been concussed.
...it's endearing in a way I'd never have expected from her. A simple gesture, don't die, idiot, but it means far more than I could ever have anticipated. Especially coming from her of all people.
I just wish she hadn't waited so long to show that she cared about me more than the dirt on her shoe. If she'd been this amicable from the start, then maybe... no. No use dwelling on what if's, nor on her words.
We have work to do. Work that, though it may be unpleasant to most, I'd be lying if I said a small part of me wasn't looking forward to. Especially after what I've learned about Bidleid. I feel this... gnawing in my chest, now. Not fear, nor worry, nor doubt.
I don't know what it is.
The Satanihilus at the door give me a curt glance as I follow after Serafall, a small bow to me as though I was worth their respect. Not nearly as deep as the one they gave her, but I don't care much for semantics. As long as they aren't calling me a 'demi-fraud' or some shit, I don't much care, my focus instead being on what lies beyond this door.
The town hall itself has been repurposed entirely, acting as a small base of operations from within Chastinal for us to use. The large hall now has a gargantuan table with a map of the greater Underworld strewn across it, several more maps placed across the hall to depict supply lines, possible strategic points and allegiances between each House. Bad blood, old relations, unique specialties.
Helpful things to know, put simply. Helpful enough that several groups of Satanihilus stand beside each map, gathered around the central table and discussing amongst themselves. There's an odd sort of energy to the room, something I'm hesitant to call anticipation, as constant chatter rumbles.
I'm not too sure what the other rooms dotted around the town hall are for, frankly. I've never bothered going inside them, never saw a need to-
"Demi-fiend."
Diallos' curt greeting cuts my thoughts off short, having spoke out from just a few feet away from me, resting himself against a nearby wall as Serafall stares at the maps for several long seconds.
I raise a brow to him as he pushes off the wall, moving to stand at my side.
"I didn't think you'd be showing up, Diallos. Especially given what's gonna be happening today. You sure you wanna be here for this? Sera won't be going easy on your brother."
He sneers, glancing at Sera for a splitsecond before shifting his focus to a door just past her, one I'm certain now leads to the cellars.
"Diamor made his choice. Though it will hurt to see him be put through such torment, I will not look away. This is simply the consequences of his actions."
I hum in acknowledgement, still staring at Serafall as she makes several orders of a meek young woman standing beside the map, poking her chest several times over to get the message through.
"...I hope, for your sake, that he isn't going to make me use my power. He should be smart enough to realise that she can hurt him as much as she wants with me present."
I sigh just a moment later, breaking my gaze away from Sera to glance at Diallos.
"Why are we doing this, anyways? What could he possibly know that we need so badly enough to torture him for it?"
Diallos doesn't acknowledge my gaze in any way, and if he notices, he makes no show of it. His eyes remain locked on Sera's form, his hand still firmly set on the hilt of his blade as he speaks.
"There's multiple things we could learn from this. Numbers, placements, firepower. For all we know, the Grand Marshall Narberius could be hiding in Cainhurst, waiting to catch us off guard. We need to know the situation. Depending on the information he gives us, and what we've seen from recent movements around Cainhurst, we'll have a plan of attack going forward."
He pauses, something like anger slipping into his gaze for just a moment, washed away before I could properly identify it.
"The Lady Sitri also has a... personal reason to be doing this. She had spent a year failing to take the Castle Cainhurst from Diamor's hands before your arrival, Demi-fiend. Many of her soldiers have died because of him."
I don't have a response to that. I don't really need one, anyways. It won't change what's about to happen, nor will it change the fact that some lesser part of me is going to enjoy every second of it, either. All we can do is sit there, waiting for Serafall to be done.
"I've got a lot of tricks up my sleeve, Diallos. Several unorthodox ones. If I do anything in that room... don't try and stop me."
He blinks, furrowing his brow as he turns to me, hand tightening over his blade.
"You make it sound as though you could resurrect the dead, Demi-fiend. That you'll kill my brother countless times."
I bark out a short, curt laugh, unsure of how to answer that question given I can technically speak to spirits now- something I should absolutely do when this interrogation is over and there aren't so many eyes on me.
"No. But I can get damn well close. I might need to inflict a fatal wound or two to make proper use of my talents. Medicine works best when the body is in desperate need."
He sighs, that same spark of what I now know to be disgust flickering in his eyes as he turns away from me, leaving me with just a few brief words before going silent.
"Do what you must. Not what you want."
Charming as ever, Diallos. I suppose there's merit to his words. I can't know for sure what will happen when we begin the interrogation, but I know that wasting my energy trying to hurt Diamor for the sake of my own enjoyment is only going to piss me off even more when I remember that I can't kill him.
...well, the High Council says I can't. I'm sure nobody would mind if I happened to slip and my sword get embedded in his-
"Ah, it seems like my favourite two boys in the world are getting along nicely! You aren't at eachothers throats anymore! This is a marked improvement in my books."
I snort at Serafall's words, having not noticed her approach until she was stood before us, hands on her hips and a cocky grin on her lips. I roll my eyes at the sight.
"If Diallos and I are your favourites, then you have shit taste, Sera."
She chuckles briefly, her eyes flickering between us as she smirks now.
"Well, there's not much else competition for that title. One of you is great behind a desk, and the other one seems to be one of the few men alive who can actually get shit done in this Lucifer-forsaken war."
I find myself grinning at her compliment, my ego sufficiently stroked as I turn to Diallos with some snarky retort on my lips, only to be met with a frown from the perpetually grouchy bastard.
If I didn't know any better, I'd say he looks... kinda hurt. Hurt by the fact that Sera sees him as a pencil pusher above all else. Either that, or he's hurt by the idea that I'm more capable than him in Sera's eyes.
"I believe we have more important matters than discussing the intricacies of your esteem, Lady Sitri."
Serafall, who had been grinning alongside me just a moment prior, sobers up immediately. Her amusement vanishes, replaced with thinly veiled giddiness hidden behind a mask of determination.
"You're right. We have work to do. Follow me, and don't worry about any risks. Diamor is chained up like a dog. He won't be posing any threat to us."
I'm not sure what's worse. The fact that I almost wanted him to be unchained, to have a reason to fight him again, or the fact that I frown for just a moment at the comparison to a dog. These fucking hound metaphors, I swear, they haunt me-
"Keep up, Demi-fiend."
I blink away my thoughts, following after the duo as they finally push through the steel-barred door past the central map, the air instantly turning stale and fetid as we enter the cellar proper. A wave of odour that I can only describe as decay hits me like a damn slap when we move down the staircase, my nose wrinkling for a moment.
"Glad to see you've taken such good care of this place, Sera." I mutter, still not quite accustomed to the acrid stench of rot.
Sera looks at me like I've grown a second head. Like I'm an idiot, not worth the time.
"Why should I? Most of these prisoners will be taken away to Cain's Throne by the weeks end. The rest? They can rot for all I care. Serves them right."
How charming. Truly.
I don't bother with a witty response, or an acknowledgement of some kind. Mainly because I don't have one, instead choosing to simply follow on as we walk through the dimly lit cellar, barred cells surrounding us on both sides. Some are empty, others housing nothing but corpses.
Some have people in. They aren't pleasant.
Finally, after around a minute straight of traversing these underground hallways, we arrive at a dimly lit cell, tucked away in the corner of the cellar. Even from down the hall, I could hear the rhythmic tapping and occasional humming that came from it.
"Keeping yourself occupied, Diamor?" I say, grinning as I lean against the bars, the Belial's eyes lighting up as he notices us.
He looks almost the exact same, a tiny patch of stubble shadowing his chin being the only indication of any time having passed since we last spoke. He sits on a bucket in the corner of the cell, leaning his back against the wall.
His hands are bound in front of him with the same Manasceran shackles as before, digging so tightly into his flesh that the skin of his wrists is blistered and raw.
In front of him is a corpse. It doesn't look like the man died peacefully.
"Well, well! If I'd known I would be having an audience today, I'd have cleaned up. Please, forgive the mess. My old cellmate was... so unbearably loud with his snoring."
Serafall's fist clenches at the sight of him, a flash of anger flickering in her eyes which she quickly smothers with a deep sigh, unlocking the door and walking through. I follow shortly after, with Diallos finishing the convoy and shutting the door behind us.
"I'll make this brief. There's some things we want to know. You are going to tell us everything you know about Loyalist operations, Castle Cainhurst, and-"
Diamor ignores her. He doesn't even let her finish, his teeth showing in a grin that splits his face as he turns to Diallos.
"How've you been, little brother? We haven't spoken in months."
Serafall sneers, fist clenched even tighter as she bites back her rage. Diallos sighs.
"I have been well, in spite of all your attempts to change that."
Diamor scoffs, as though the words themselves are offensive to him.
"In spite of what you think, I gave my men explicit orders to not attack if they ever saw you. You think a runt like you just got away unscathed because of skill? You should be thanking me, Diallos."
Diallos sighs, his chest heaving for a moment as his anger begins to match the levels of Serafall's own. His breathing is unsteady, fist desperately clutching the dagger at his hip. I can't tell if he's touched by what Diamor has said, or infuriated. Possibly both. No matter.
"I see you also graduated from the fine arts school of being an insufferable cunt. Some sharp words are only going to make this worse for you, Diamor." I say, staring down at the once-great Devil with folded arms.
He looks up at me, his smile widening. There's a derision in his eyes now that one would have to be blind to miss.
"I know. You're going to hurt me. And you're going to fix me. I may as well make the most of it, though... after all, you can't kill me. You think I didn't hear your little chat with Serafall after she put me on ice? You're just as chained as I am, hound. You-"
My fist lashes out faster than I can register, shattering Diamor's skull and leaving him responseless on the ground after slamming his head against the wall. His body twitches, sliding down the stone walls of his cell, a thick trail of blood following after.
Serafall balks. Diallos screams in both anguish and fury... but Diamor isn't dead.
Before my allies can make a move to restrain me in some way, I lift a hand to the air. An ephemeral, almost warm green emanates from my hand, brightening as I cast a Skill I've made scarce use of.
Thou Shalt Not Die
-250MP!
Diamor's body is repaired in the blink of an eye, his eyes snapping open and breathing uneven as he twitches back to consciousness. He heaves for each breath, head resting against the walls of his cell as he stares at me with open vitriol.
It only serves to make me smile.
"Would you like to try that again, Diamor? With some respect, this time-"
My ego trip is cut off rather abruptly by Serafall's hand pulling me back, throwing me against the bars of the cell and stepping in front of me, pressing in close with a finger raised to my face. She looks angry, yes, but... oddly gleeful too.
Her voice, when she speaks, is a low whisper. Something only intended for me.
"Next time you wanna pull some shit like that, you warn me beforehand. I don't care if it's a hand signal or a fucking whistle, you warn me. Understood?"
My jaw tenses. I can understand why she wants this. Doesn't mean I have to enjoy the way she nipped my efforts in the bud.
For a brief moment, my eyes meet Diallos' from over Serafall's shoulder. I'm not sure what he's looking at me with, anymore. There's an odd mix of awe, derision, and fear sitting in his gaze, his eyes flicking between me and Diamor several times over.
Ironically enough, the fear only makes me stronger thanks to one of my Skills.
"Fine. I'll give you a signal next time. I suppose I got far too eager." I say, conceding my own lack of control to Serafall and ignoring the way Diamor smirks at me from behind her back.
...something tells me this interrogation isn't going to go in our favour.
"Get to work then, Sera. I'll be here to fix him when you need me." I say, pushing her away from me and brushing myself down, forming a seat from my Mana and settling down across the room from Diamor.
The Belial in question only seems to grin wider at my words.
"The leash has grown even tighter! You're not just a hound anymore, Demi-fiend... you're a coward. Strength enough to break entire Clans, and you bend your knee."
I sigh, kicking up my leg to rest an ankle over my knee, tapping my thigh rhythmically.
"I know better than to fall for simple bait. That little... love tap I gave you earlier was just to test the waters. You can try goad some response out of me for as long as you like. It won't work."
He smirks.
"Is that so? I see. You might want to look away, little brother. Things are about to get messy, it seems."
------------------------------------
Two hours.
Two long, utterly banal hours of constant healing, constant torment. I'm starting to think Serafall is running out of ways to use Frostweaver to hurt this man. I've seen her castrate him three times over, at least.
The worst part? He's done nothing but jeer at us. Laugh at us. Mock us. Diallos has remained mercifully silent the whole time, but Diamor has more than compensated for his brother's lack of speech.
It's after the latest batch of nail-tearing and ball-trimming that I decide I'm growing sick of this back and forth. I cast a Prayer on Diamor and grab Serafall by the shoulder, pulling her away from the Belial's now healed form.
"I'm tagging myself in, Sera. I have an idea."
She huffs. I'm not sure if Sera thinks she's fooling anyone, but I've been able to see quite easily just how much she's enjoyed this. She hasn't even asked a question for the last ten minutes, just torturing the man and glancing at me occasionally for a heal.
For a moment, I'm worried she'll say no and get right back to her work, but she finally stands from her kneeling spot and walks past me, an irritated frown on her lips.
"Fine. Do your worst." She mutters beneath her breath, thankfully not fighting me on this as she walks to the edge of the cell and leans against it, a sneer marring her face.
I wasn't lying when I said I had an idea. It's just a bit of a gamble. Clearly, physical pain isn't hurting him any. Unfortunately, Diamor gave me an angle back when we fought. One I won't hesitate to use.
With all the regard of an annoyed parent, I form another seat in front of Diamor, dropping into it and leaning forward.
"If you're expecting some 'good cop, bad cop' routine, then I'm afraid to say you'll be disappointed. I have no intentions of going easy on you."
Diamor smirks, hacking out a laugh through shuddering breaths.
"Oh, I have no doubts about that. We're far more similar than you'd like to admit, hound. We love the feeling of winning. Of punishing those that try to stand against us."
I sigh, rolling my eyes.
"You want a medal, smartass? Of course I love winning. Who doesn't? ...Look, I'm getting quite tired now, and I've got a trick up my sleeve that will trivialise this interrogation - one I don't want to expose so soon. What are you even being so stubborn for? What do you possibly gain from resisting?"
He laughs again, his sneer deepening enough to make it quite clear that if looks could kill, I'd be a fucking corpse.
"And here I thought you said you wouldn't pull some good-bad routine, or whatever it was. You're being awfully cordial, Demi-fiend. What happened to the hound that tore apart my army and beat me half to death?"
I lean back in the seat, my arms folded now.
"He didn't show up for work... I'm trying to make this easy for you. Not for any ideas of kindness, or mercy, but so I don't have to deal with the ramifications of what I'm about to do, Diamor. You're still going to wither away in the depths of Cain's Throne. I just like it when things are convenient."
He snorts, staring at me with all the respect one would give a lamppost.
"What makes you think I'll ever betray my people, Demi-fiend? Especially after what you've just said! Why would I ever bother giving you what you want, when I know I'll be rotting beneath the Throne soon anyways?"
I hum, tilting my head and appraising his words for a moment.
"I guess you make a good point. Fine then. No more games, Diamor. There is some information that I need, and you happen to have it. I'm done fucking around now."
Diamor chuckles, his eyes widening in mock fear for a brief second, his chained hands lifting to the air and splayed out in surrender.
"Oh, how utterly terrifying, Demi-fiend. Truly, I'm shaking in my-"
This is it. Time to make another gamble.
"-How's Diehauser been?"
...silence.
The room falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop in the blink of an eye. Diamor's eyes widen imperceptibly, his breath hitching for only a moment as his mouth remains open. When his breathing finally resumes, his fists clench. The amusement vanishes. He stares at me with a hatred so thick and bare that I can almost see the fire of it in his eyes.
"...how do you know that name?" He bites out, cold and quiet, but loud as a bomb in the silence of the cell. Proof of my gamble paying off. Another jackpot.
Behind me, I hear Diallos sigh softly.
"I decided to do some research, Diamor. You think I was gonna forget what you said when you were skewered on my sword? Have... son... as if that was some reason to let you survive. I should thank you, honestly. You gave me the best weapon I could possibly use against you. All for free, too. Now, I'm sure I don't need to spell out for you what my intentions are for the boy..."
He surges forward, teeth gnashing as he speaks, face a mere inch from my own as the chains of his shackles bolted into the ground stop him from moving any closer.
"You have no right! No right at all! My son is innocent, he has no place in this!"
Truth be told, if my gamble on Diehauser being the 'son' Diamor mentioned hadn't paid off, I'd have used Necromaniacal on the corpse in this cell with us. Not just to see what I could learn from it, but to hopefully instill some fear in Diamor.
Thankfully, I won't have to it seems. Not only because it probably wouldn't have worked, but because it's a card I can keep close to my chest for when the moment is right, now.
In case it wasn't obvious, though, I'm bluffing out my ass. I have no intentions of hurting an innocent child, and I'd hope my compatriots are simply going along with the charade to help me in this interrogation.
"Oh, I agree. Diehauser is innocent, just a young boy in a war he knows little about. Unfortunately, he doesn't have the luxury of being ignorant, and you don't have the luxury of being silent anymore. I am many things, Diamor. Merciful is not one of them."
He sneers, his eyes still just an inch away.
"You're an animal, that's what you are! An animal, biting at any hand that ever tried to feed you! Choking yourself on your leash! Bidleid was right about one thing - you deserve to rot in the pits of Alathia, burn in the frozen depths of Cocytus!"
I sigh, playing up my indifference as much as I can and putting on an impatient front.
"Well, like I said, I am many things. A fan of metaphors isn't one of them. You're not a philosopher, Plato, so stop speaking like you know anything about me. Just shut up and listen when I speak."
Diamor, mercifully, goes quiet.
"Now, if you're quite done smearing my name, there are several things Serafall and I want to know. I'm not asking you to pull a trigger, I'm asking you to speak. Not just for your sake. I assure you Diamor, whatever torment Serafall inflicted upon you will be but a shadow of what she would do to Diehauser, especially given she knows that it would hurt you all the more."
He chokes out something between a cry of frustration and a sob, wrenching himself away from me and pacing around the small area of the cell he can freely move between.
His eyes flicker to Serafall's regularly, who thankfully is indeed playing along with my charade, grinning widely at him like a cat that caught the canary.
"Freedom fighters... For a better future. What a fucking joke. You Satanihilus are all just ungrateful scum, too deluded by your own ideals to realise that our people need to be ruled by a firm hand. And now- now you threaten the lives of innocent children? You're animals. All of you. Vermin."
I snort against my own wishes, rolling my eyes as I do so, ignoring the way Diamor's gaze snaps to me like he wants nothing more than to rip me apart.
"Have you ever heard the phrase fight fire with fire? It's a common one, but I'm sure the meaning isn't lost on you. The King's Court Massacre took the lives of... lets say 400 innocent Devils, being generous. Children included. Your son means nothing whatsoever compared to that death toll."
Diamor heaves out another pained breath, glancing to Diallos with something akin to desperation. I'm not sure what's worse, that he thought it would work, or that Diallos actually flinched for a moment.
"You- surely you see now, brother! These creatures, they wear the skin of righteous men to fight a war that never should have started! They lord themselves on morality, and commit vile acts to further their goals... You chose the wrong side, Diallos."
The little brother in question turns away. There's a pain in his eyes that I hadn't expected to see, alongside a shaky form of determination that I'm equally glad for.
"...you made your choice, Diamor. I made mine. The Underworld needs to change. We can never allow another Massacre to happen. I don't need to enjoy this, I just need to know that it's for a better future."
Diamor looks like his world has shattered. He stares at his brother like a monster has taken his skin, like he doesn't recognise him. I almost wish I knew enough about Hamlet now to make some witty joke about brotherly betrayal, but nothings coming to me.
"You're preaching to an empty crowd, Diamor. Spare yourself the trouble of this farce, and spare your son the suffering of bad decisions. Just tell us what we need to know about the Loyalists, and Castle Cainhurst."
He sneers once again, his eyes bloodshot. For a moment, he opens his mouth, halfway to saying another scathing remark about my character, or about the methodology of the Satanihilus... but he thinks better.
"...do you promise to keep him safe, if I do?"
I hum, rubbing my chin for a moment.
"Safe? We're at war, Diamor. I can't make any guarantees with collateral damage being a factor for when we reach Lucifaad, but... I won't hurt him by choice if that's what you're asking of me."
He sighs. All at once, the man seems to deflate, losing all of his energy. Where there was once a proud warrior, now sits a defeated man.
"Fine, that's... okay. I'll tell you what I know. For the record, it isn't much. Bidleid keeps his cards close to his chest."
It's almost admirable really, just how quickly his resistance crumbled. He didn't even consider asking any further about how I knew, what I knew, or if I was bluffing him.
He just gave up.
Like I said... almost admirable. Were he any other man, I'm sure it'd be downright noble.
Oh, but I'm absolutely gonna be telling him this was all a bluff by the end, though. I don't want the Underworld to think I'm a child murderer, or that I torture kids.
...that is, if I don't decide to kill him instead.
All that EXP, 300-odd levels worth, in one easy package. Unable to resist. Unable to fight back. And besides...
It's not like anyone could stop me.