Marcus closed the door with a little more force than necessary, causing the room to freeze. Not, however, for nearly as long as he'd like, and the four demons inside promptly went back to doing what they were doing.
Which… No. He wasn't even going to accept the visual stimulation of what in all the Hells those four were doing to one another, and that was that.
He let power flood his veins, causing the four to stop more permanently this time. Mostly because they turned to him instead, the two incubi seeming just as interested as the two succubi.
You know, when he approved for Vess to hire her brothers and sisters on a more permanent basis, he really should have expected something like this. Demons, not closely supervised except by another demon, and with inevitable time to kill.
He would have honestly preferred to walk in on them in the middle of a cannibalistic frenzy.
"Get dressed," he said, staring at them in such a way he didn't actually have to see anything. But, importantly, not looking away either. "Now."
One of the succubi stalked forwards slowly, a smile on her face. "Come now, sweet little thing. Clothes? Such horrid restraints, and not even the ones I like. I'm sure I cou-"
A spatial matrix was woven and powered up in a moment, stretching the distance between himself and her outstretched hand tenfold. Marcus let any emotion drain from his tone, his somewhat fond horror turning decidedly less exasperated. "Don't presume to touch me. Put on clothes before I get impolite."
One of the incubi stepped up next to his 'sister', whispering in her ear, and the blood drained from her face. The man turned to him and bowed his head, an admittedly sharp outfit wrapping itself around his unnaturally perfect body.
Vess strode in a moment later, pausing as she took in the scene. The other three demons had gotten dressed by then, showing styles between provocative to alluring, and she glanced at Marcus before speaking. "Out, all of you."
"We had-" The succubus that had spoken before wilted at Vess' glare, bowing her head first to her then to him. "Of course. Your Grace."
More bowing, then they filed out. Vess shook her head after the door had clicked shut again. "You're early. I called them here to discuss something, and they must have gotten bored."
"Must have," Marcus replied dryly, tone warming back to normal levels. "To emphasize the very thin silver lining, at least now I have visual confirmation of what my mildly curious thirteen-year-old self read about. Things haven't changed between now and then, not in that regard."
Vess shrugged, motioning to a seat. Marcus remained standing. She coughed. "Ah, yes. Probably for the best. And don't be so sure about not changing. You and the Queen shared a bed, did you not?"
"Before I had an Archmage-induced night terror and nearly sliced her toes off." Marcus turned. "Let's find another room. The castle never seems to run out of those."
She hummed, opening the door. "My point stands. You didn't mind sleeping in the same bed because you trust her, correct? Perhaps some day you'll be comfortable with other things."
"Moving on," Marcus replied, tone growing harder as he walked out of the room. The demons were just vanishing around another corner, though he only caught a slip of cloth before they vanished. "How did it go?"
Vess hummed, hands smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle in her dress. "Iztic and Herra are still getting all the facts, but we've confirmed their existence. The Cult against Archmages is moving members into Mirrania."
"That's not their name," Marcus said, rolling his eyes. "And The Silent Gods Movement has killed three Archmages in the past. Vistus warned us about them for a reason, so keep digging. Did you verify their doctrine?"
"It was as the Archmage said. They hate the Gods, for some reason, and think Archmages are a new pantheon trying to ascend into divinity. Or the old one reincarnating over and over in an attempt to reclaim their power, it's a little unclear. Lots of scattered documents, groups, fanatics and not, the works. Very much a cult."
"Well, keep me informed. That other thing?"
"The bribes? Yeah, they're still waiting on you. Four tomes, an enchanted mace and the demon identity tracer. The Vizier was delayed, so he will arrive 'soon-ish'. His words, not mine."
Marcus shrugged. "Alright, and I'll deal with that one when he arrives. So my bribes are waiting for me, you've covered for your failure to find hard evidence of The Silent Gods Movement by attempting to marginalize them as a threat, what was next?"
"The Academy leadership progress update," she replied, scowling at him. "And I didn't fail. It's an ongoing investigation."
"Of course it is. I actually assumed this would take longer, but if that's all that's left, let's get on with it. I have the guilds to meet."
She huffed. "You used to be more polite. This Archmage business has been terrible for your manners, I'll say that much."
"Take it up with the Empire."
"Oh, I plan to." Vess smiled, showing far too many teeth to be considered polite. "But yes, I finished detaching myself from its day to day tasks. It was getting too big for someone who couldn't dedicate themself to it fully, anyway, so it's run by the Council of Three now. Very pretentious, I know, but I insisted. Not all that different from how it used to be, but it's growing. Quickly."
"I see. And what are you doing with your renewed freedom?"
"Creating a vast, highly adaptive intelligence network, of course. Ponn has been helping me, that woman got quite the confidence boost after infiltrating the Legions right under Vistus' nose, but I have other souls working for me. Demons, summons, humans, all working as informants, spies or assassins. It's great."
"Expensive?"
"Well, yes." Vess shrugged. "Of course it's expensive. But you can afford it, and trust me, we don't want to rely on the Empire for our intelligence. The Empress holds power for a very good reason, and not just because she's an Archmage. The Great Houses, the Viziers, the Merchant Kings, the other Archmages. One giant web unified against the certain death that is the Dungeon, and one that would rapidly collapse without that pressure keeping them together. She won't hesitate to bind you to her, one way or the other, so independent intelligence is a must."
"Fair enough. That was all, then?"
Vess bowed her head. "So it was. Now you have merchant guilds to blackmail, and I have cultists to hunt. See you tonight?"
Marcus nodded, and seconds later they came to a split in the hallways, Marcus going left as Vess went right. Elly had organized a small get together with the three of them, which he'd actually forgotten about, but that was for later.
For now he went down and down, until he arrived at the gate towards Redwater. Having the guilds come to him was an option, of course, but it felt right to go to their place of power. To their large houses filled with expensive things, and then tell them that all that wealth belonged to the people.
And the Crown, but mostly the people.
He had been a new King when he'd first noticed the issue, then the invasion had happened, and then they'd had to recover from the invasion. But now there was very little standing in the way of him cleaning up the bloated guilds, burning out the corruption before leashing what remained to the Crown.
Well, he'd be doing some of that. Mostly the shock and awe, two dozen scribes along with a few hundred City Watchmen doing the actual burning, which more realistically meant some minor arrests and quite a bit of intimidation.
They had been tolerable in his father's time, apparently, but now? With the Empire throwing a massive amount of resources at them in an attempt to make their economy dependent? Their greed had gone into overdrive, even with an Archmage in spitting distance.
Some people just lost all reason when they saw gold. Oh well.
Marcus suppressed the urge to scowl as his guards moved around him, twenty one of them in all. Six mages, four Life Enhanced warriors, two demons and nine Royal Guards. A nearly suffocating blanket made of steel and arcane might, the same blanket that wrapped around him every time he left the castle.
He understood their purpose, he understood that he had a target on his back and he understood that he was as mortal as any man, and that was the only reason he played nice. Because honestly, people wishing for their very own guards probably hadn't thought things through.
Oh, it makes one feel all special. Really boosted an ego, which despite what some might tell you does generally feel good, and it sure makes you look important.
But those people wishing for it just wished for it momentarily. Then they went on with their day, doing more important things in blessed peace. In obscurity, being a face in the crowd no one looked at too long. Marcus didn't. Couldn't. His every move was scrutinized, every action looked into for meaning.
It was suffocating, tiring and wholly unpleasant. Yet it had saved his life many times over, and just because no one had tried to fill his body with sharp metal over the last eight months, didn't mean no one would try again.
So now he was surrounded by a fluid, hard to infiltrate suit of armor that protected him from the whole wide world.
Lucky me.
He moved further along the small bridge after his party had fully assembled, half of his people in front and the other behind. The Life Enhancement soldiers stuck the closest, Royal Guards further out to clear the way. His own mages were between them, having room to cast but still close enough to be protected by Elly's people.
Well, increasingly less Elly's people, actually. The Life Enhanced warriors with him were still from Elly, they had the most experience, but they couldn't replenish. That meant most of the recruits were from Mirranian descent, a balance that would only continue to swing into their favor.
It would take time, but the invasion had smoothed over initial ripples into their integration. Now, eight months later, most of Elly's people could speak the local language, if not particularly well, and all had settled down properly. Had their own homes, jobs and worries.
He shook his head, his party moving into Redwater proper. He could have summoned Xathar and be where he needed to be in ten minutes, but it was important to be seen. He spotted two companies of City Watchmen shadowing his group, another contingency, but they kept out of the way.
The King moving through his city with guards was one thing. To be expected, and when done right it added to their image. But a King marching two hundred soldiers down the street was too easy to be confused with a tyrant, no matter how well they dressed.
And thanks to Vess, his guards dressed well indeed. Their armor was functional, of course, but it was polished. The mages wore neat robes, were well groomed and walked 'properly'. The colors between all three groups matched, even Marcus' own clothing blending in well with the overall look.
The Theatre of Rule. Well, that sounded a bit much, but still. Even with how much power he held, personal power alone did not make a King.
Deeper and deeper they weaved into the city, moving through artisan streets and past small manors. He waved, entertained himself briefly by hoisting a thief with very poor luck into the air, deposited said thief near some City Watchmen, endured the resounding applause his actions most certainly hadn't earned, and heaved a quiet sigh of relief when they got to their destination.
The Guild Hall. One of nine, technically, but all the important Masters were there for a meeting. A meeting Marcus had nothing to do with but Vess had found out about all the same. By the sheer nervousness of the guild guards, they weren't expecting him.
Very good.
Marcus rubbed his eyes as his party came to a complete stop, not quite able to resist the urge. He really needed to get to Margaret and get a new pair, but he technically had another few days. It would just be an annoying few days.
Another guard walked up, one much better armed and armored than the others, and bowed deeply. The man's tone was smooth, smooth enough to indicate training, but there was still an undertone of nervousness. "Your Grace. Master Yorick bids you welcome, and invites you into his home. He is currently in a meeting, but he will soo-"
"I will speak to him now. Me and my party will go to the south-eastern meeting room, and if Yorick or the other Masters do not attend to me of their own accord, I will have them dragged instead."
The well-dressed guard bowed again, clearly deciding that arguing was far above his pay-grade. Smart. Marcus started walking as he pulled up a mental map of the place, courtesy of his scribes, and didn't bother suppressing a small grin.
This might be fun after all.
REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK p^o^q REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK
The door shut behind him, and Marcus breathed a deep sigh of relief. Pressing the Guilds into line had been, well… fun sounded a little too tyrannical, but watching men and women twice his age sweat just because he asked some simple questions had been funny. It helped that they deserved it, never going quite so far as to bribe people but liberally using loopholes to accrue massive amounts of wealth.
Not having committed treason meant there were no hangings, but now nine scribes were making themselves at home in the nine Guilds. Nine scribes who, having been handpicked by Vess, were going to make sure the arrangement he and the Masters had come to would be adhered to.
It had been fun, but it had also been tiring. He'd caved and summoned Xathar on the way back, his guard still ever so close, but they'd finally left as he'd entered the castle again.
During the war he had a damn good reason to tolerate them, but now he found himself more annoyed than he should be. Something to reflect on, though he wasn't sure how to reflect on wanting peace and quiet.
Regardless, he had some alone time. Not too much of it, the sun was already setting and lunch had taken longer than he'd thought, but some. And in front of him were the objects he was going to spend his peace and quiet on.
Four tomes, a seemingly ordinary mace and a piece of parchment.
The spoils of war, in a way. Calling them bribes wouldn't be inaccurate. Gifts from Vistus, to smooth over the fact the man had invaded Mirrania and very much risked Marcus' life in an attempt to awaken him as an Archmage.
The man might have been holding back, but Marcus remembered the first assassination attempt. Gasping as his lungs emptied of air, traitors both demonic and regular seeking to slice into his flesh, bolts carved with masterful runes screaming towards his skull.
Awakening an Archmage was never without cost, Vistus had said. They wouldn't have attempted it had their divination mages not predicted the end of the human race, Vistus had insisted.
Solid, sound logic, but logic rarely compared to the feeling of death creeping ever so close.
Marcus shook his head.
Of the four tomes, none were particularly interesting. Highly useful, and probably one of a kind, but just books. A list of control exercises to push him towards wielding six spell matrices, a tome on rare but highly specific summons and how to contact them, a comprehensive guide on how to overhaul his defenses and a book on runes.
A literal priceless set, because no one in their right mind would sell them. It was knowledge of the kind few people possessed, skills gathered or trained over a lifetime, and for mages, knowledge was power. It would probably refine his skills more than self-study could do in a decade.
At least when it came to regular magic. Space was as intuitive to grasp as usual.
The last was a single page, something of more unique interest to him. A lightning elemental that Vistus claimed had worked for Balthazar, and could actually answer questions without centuries of propaganda or lies diluting the truth.
They were, as bribes went, good. Very, very good.
The mace he could inspect, the books he would memorize, the elemental he would speak with. He'd look for traps, of course, for ways the Archmage was screwing with him or introducing weaknesses to exploit later, but Marcus wasn't expecting anything anyway.
Why go through all the trouble of recruiting him just to risk it all now? Vistus would know Marcus would inspect it, knew that Marcus had a small army of mages mastering three dozen specializations working for him. No, this would be exactly what it appeared. What had the man called it?
War reparations.
Time slipped by as he inspected the bribes, because everything else aside he wasn't stupid, but as expected he found nothing. Reading all the books would take time, properly testing the mace he could do with Elly, and summoning the elemental would require a proper ritual chamber to be prepared.
It still took him hours. Hours that went by in a haze of fascination, leafing through books on exercises he'd never considered and runic formations he'd hadn't seen since studying the School of Life. It was, all in all, highly relaxing and slightly daunting, because he doubted this was the best the Archmage had.
Marcus shook his head, getting up and shaking stiff limbs. He drained the cup of watered-down wine a servant had placed there while he was inspecting the mace, shaking his head again as his stomach growled.
Dinner. They hadn't decided on a time, so he technically wasn't late, but then again, Elly would have sent someone if she'd been waiting on him. Quite refreshing, that. Someone who actually communicated instead of assuming things.
Getting to the usual dining room didn't take long, though he was forced to stop twice to make polite conversation with a Baron and Lord respectively—though forced was the wrong word, even if he had been forced by social convention and the fact both were Loyalists—, and Marcus opened the door expecting to find a room empty.
Elly might have been delayed with her war game, which was far from unusual, or decided to have a light dinner and wait for him. Enjoy her own peace and quiet, read that book she had been insisting on finishing.
Instead he opened the door to find both Elly and Vess on one of the couches, talking animatedly. Elly was saying something about trees, glass in hand as she gestured grandly. "-nd that's why the desert bark is so valuable to the Holy Sect of Asham, since their entir- Marcus!"
Marcus closed the door, locking it for good measure, and turned fully into the room. Elly was bounding towards him, and he had just enough time to spot the several empty wine bottles on the small table before her arms wrapped around him.
He stiffened out of sheer reflex, a small pulse of wrongness being stamped down as he hesitantly patted her on the back. She pulled away, eyes huge as they stared at him. "You don't like hugs, I know, but I do and you're late and Vess keeps insisting neurotypical skills can be developed by deadening the negative connotations by ensuring a constant supply of lesse-"
"Stop babbling," Vess called, refilling her own glass. Marcus hadn't actually seen her drunk before, and a few seconds of thought found that their contract did allow for it. Less of a rule, admittedly, and more the fact she physically could, but all the same. "Ness, should she stop babbling?"
Marcus glanced at Elly's friend and handmaiden, catching a split-second of a glare before her face smoothed into a polite smile. "The Queen can do as she likes. Please, excuse me."
The woman set down her own glass, which seemed barely touched, and curtsied before leaving. Vess watched her go with sagging shoulders, looking for all intense and purposes like a sad puppy.
"Vess, Elly," Marcus greeted, guiding his drunk wife back to the couch. A glass of wine was shoved into his hand a moment later, which he took a polite sip of. His throat burned as he fought not to cough, because what the fuck was this? "So, why did you two decide to get drunk?"
Vess grinned, pointing at Elly with an accusing finger. "She complained about how she can't get drunk anymore, what with her liver filtering out the alcohol faster than she can drink it, and I decided to share some of my old bottles. Demons, especially those with strong constitutions, often find themselves needing something stronger to get anywhere."
"I see," he replied, gently prying Elly's hand off his shoulder. She pouted, perking up when she spotted an errant cheese cube. It was consumed in moments, and Marcus hummed. "What was going on with Ness? She doesn't like me much, fair enough, but still."
Elly huffed loudly. "Stupid Ness. She finds a boyfriend and suddenly I'm the one not spending enough time on her, like I didn't take half her duties away so she could go horse riding with her secret admirer. Bah. She just wants to be a Lady again, and she's blaming me because it's easier than admitting I remind her of what she's lost."
"...Alright then. Sorry to hear that." He glanced at Vess, who shrugged. True, then, but also not something he was going to remotely get in the middle of. "Wait, she's a Lady?"
Vess shrugged when Elly proved too distracted to answer, having apparently decided knives were shiny and fascinating. "Used to be, from what I can gather. The boy she likes does like her back, so it's nothing untoward. But he's only the son of a minor Lord, which would give his mother undue influence over court decisions. It has strained their friendship."
"Stupid Ness," Elly agreed, looking at the demon with narrowed eyes. "Why aren't you as drunk as me?"
"I am. I just have several centuries of experience and can thusly articulate properly when speaking, even while drunk."
"You said thusly." Elly grinned, Marcus not even remotely prepared to deal with any of this. "Therefore your entire argument is disqualified."
"You're only technically the Queen-consort, so your word isn't final. Marcus?"
Marcus opened his mouth to politely tell her he wasn't getting involved, Elly speaking before he could. "I was a queen before I married him, so no I'm not. Am I? I'm both. Yeah. Bubbles."
He sighed, walking over to the small dinner table to fetch a bottle meant for human consumption. Unlike those two he wasn't a demon nor attuned to life itself, and that first sip was still burning. No way was he drinking that again.
Settling down on the other couch, and pretending he hadn't seen Elly pat the seat between herself and Vess, he poured a generous amount of wine into a new glass. "So, what do people usually do when they get drunk with their wife and a succubus?"
Elly's hand came down on the table like the fist of a war-god, rattling the bottles but miraculously not breaking anything. Even now her control was superb, which was as relieving as it was intimidating. "Two truths and a lie!"
Marcus opened his mouth, closed it, then shrugged. Vess nodded, clearly using her experience to adapt to a drunk Elly and cheating by technically being made of pure energy, but then again so was he and everyone was one but that didn't mea- woah, alright, that sip of demon wine had been strong.
Vess smoothly explained the rules of the game, which seemed relatively self-explanatory yet the demon seemed utterly focused on, and Marcus calmly nodded along as he took another sip.
Fuck it, he could roll with this. Yeah. Totally. He was a social butterfly incarnate.
And drunk Elly definitely didn't scare him. Nope. Not at all, and anyone who said differently was going to be indicted for treason.
Yeah, that felt like a measured response. Even handed, that was him to a T. Elly swung her arm wildly, somehow not spilling a drop of wine, and Marcus quietly wove his shield when she was distracted by Vess.
Just in case.