Apostles of Doom

He had also shared memories with Vaselle so they could fully recap what the other had been up to. Tom had to admit that sharing his memories of the battle and Vaselle’s conversations with the others regarding what Gastropé had told them was extremely efficient. It was much faster and far richer than speaking; it would just take some learning not to accidentally overshare.

Tom entered his suite, noting that both Rupert’s and Talarius’s doors were closed. Well, in Talarius’s case, probably closed and blocked by a wardrobe, he thought to himself with a chuckle. He entered his own bedroom, closing the double doors behind him and fell face first on his bed, the Rod of Tommus still clutched in his hand.

He really needed to sleep and recharge. He had returned the DoomNet’s mana absorption levels to normal so that people could regenerate. He had also returned the portal to Fire to its normal active state, and temperatures were returning to normal across the DoomNet. The outer regions were still quite chilly for the Abyss, about forty degrees Fahrenheit; however, inside the temperature was back up to about 120. Rather comfortable for sleeping, Tom reflected.

Chapter 119

Courts of Chaos, Lilith’s Chambers: DOA + 2, Early Third Period

“So, I guess we know who you are having for lunch,” Asmodeus stated, taking a sip of his Baby’s Blood Tea as the door shut behind the first returning soldier from Mount Doom. Lilith said nothing; she simply sat staring at the door, seething in silence.

Asmodeus shrugged and said, “I imagine the Baron will not be pleased.” Again, Lilith said nothing. Asmodeus raised an eyebrow at her odd behavior. Restrained silence in the face of defeat was not an expected behavior for Lilith. In fact, he was not sure he could recall the last time she had behaved this way. Certainly, it would have to have been before Orcus’s passing.

Asmodeus took another sip of tea, and noticed a small twinge in his stomach. He was not sure what it was; perhaps pity for the returning demons? It would not be pleasant for them. Not in the least. He suspected they would all be eaten alive, leaving just enough vital organs so that they could be forcibly regenerated and consumed again and again. That is, if they were lucky.

“You are correct. The Baron will not be pleased,” Lilith finally said after several more minutes of raging silence.

It came as a bit of relief to Asmodeus, in particular the calm and objective tone. He had been worried that the silence had been but a buildup to an unspeakably violent outburst. Of course, he had no idea what her current calm demeanor indicated. It was so very out of character for her.

“So have you decided on punishment for those who failed you?” Asmodeus asked.

“The ones who have returned? The ones who have fled? Or the traitors?” Lilith asked, once more uncharacteristically calm.

“Exactly.”

Lilith pursed her lips. “Those who fled shall be hunted down, tortured for a few hundred years in the dungeon and then executed. Those who returned will face no punishment. Naturally, I will not tell them this — I will let them stew in fear of future punishment for failure, but I will not punish them. The traitors?” She gave a brief, sharp chuckle. “That will take some delicious planning on my part.” She went silent again.

Asmodeus frowned. This was starting to get disturbing. No punishment other than fear of punishment for those that returned? That was very unusual. Obviously, graduated punishment for different levels of infraction made sense, but the returning demons were getting off extremely easily.

Or perhaps not, he reflected. Lilith’s punishments were legendary. Living with the belief that such a punishment was definitely coming and was, in fact, deserved, could be an exquisite form of mental torture. Rather subtle for Lilith; more like something he would do. Asmodeus shrugged and took another sip of tea.

Mount Doom

Talarius lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He was not sure what time it was, but he had slept for some time. Passing out drunk would do that. He did not do it often, but he had last night. He had been celebrating their victory over the Knights of Chaos, the sort of victory that he had only ever imagined in his wildest dreams. He had then drunk even more to try to wipe away the memories that Sekhmekt had shared. Those had been… he had no words, no idea how to process them. Such behavior went against everything he had been taught.

He had known that the Church and Rod had gone to bring the Light of the Five Siblings to Natoor and Najaar, yet history had been clear that the people there had been worshiping false gods, or gods long dead. Not true gods, not a recognized pantheon such as the Narveson in Norelon or the El'adasir of the alfar. Yet clearly they were real gods. Heathen yes, but not false gods.