The Heavenly Host

A bell chimed, indicating someone at the main door. Damien’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he got up to answer the door himself. He had sent his assistants off on errands, as he often did when he and Antefalken had their breakfast meetings. He left the dining room and went through the main sitting room to the small entryway and opened the door. A palace valet was there with a wizard a bit younger than himself whom he did not recognize.

The page said, “Greetings, Master Damien. This gentleman says he has important information for you regarding a friend of yours named Tom? He insisted on visiting you rather than making an appointment.”

Damien looked at the wizard, most likely a conjuror, and said, “You are?”

“Ah yes, My Lord Councilor, my name is Vaselle. I work for an acquaintance of yours, Tom?” the wizard said.

Damien blinked. “Vaselle? As in Vaselle and the party?” he asked. He nodded and waved to the escort to go, and ushered Vaselle in.

Vaselle was looking quite shocked. “How do you already know about the party?” he asked. “That’s why I came; I have some items that I need to acquire for Tom and I need Council approval to get them in the quantity I need.”

“Vaselle?” Antefalken came into the living room.

Vaselle looked over to Antefalken. “The bard Antefalken, yes? I recognize your voice from the other side of the portal. Estrebrius has also mentioned you in recounting his recent adventures.”

The bard walked up and offered his hand to Vaselle, who shook it. “Nice to finally meet face to face,” Antefalken said, smiling. “How are you doing? Getting acclimated to the new job?”

“Yes, indeed. Just trying to get supplies for the party. I told Tom about the restrictions on the nitroglycerin quantities and he told me to come visit Councilor Damien. I’d wondered how I would convince him of the request’s authenticity, but clearly the mas... uh, Tom knew you were here.”

“I assume this is the Vaselle you were just about to tell me about?” Damien asked.

Antefalken turned slightly to give Damien that same slightly malevolent smile he had used the night before. “Yes, Vaselle is Tom’s new warlock!”

∼

“So this theory, which you admit is rather out there, supposes that this Lenamare is secretly a warlock belonging to the bit-more-than-greater demon?” Moradel asked Hilda. Their early morning meeting had been delayed, as Sentir Fallon had been tied up.

“I don’t know that he has to be a warlock, so much as working in collusion with the demon,” Hilda replied. “As I mentioned, I am just throwing out ideas to explain what is going on. Superficially, it seems that all these rather random events just happened. The book issue with Exador and Lenamare is clear enough, if slightly melodramatic, but why had Exador and his allies filled the halls of the palace with a demon horde, if not to trap Lenamare?”

“That does seem logical. And given what I understand of how this Council works, taking the dispute to them would be a logical step. And Exador, being an archdemon with similar allies, would have access to a demon army to assist him in capturing the book once it came to Freehold,” Beragamos said.

“So then,” Hilda continued, “we either have to believe in complete random chance that this demon would show up and completely disrupt Exador’s plans — ”

“Or believe that Lenamare is sufficiently skilled to give incredibly detailed instructions to the greater demon and his student to do all the things necessary to draw both the Rod and Oorstemoth to Freehold and then expose the demon horde, and thus give the Council a reason to activate the wards Lenamare had built, and then eventually expel all the demons to be killed by Oorstemoth and the Rod,” Moradel said.

“When you put it like that, coincidence seems more likely,” Beragamos said.

“Except,” Sentir Fallon countered, “you have to add in the events with Talarius and the mana theft.” He shook his head. “Clearly this was not a greater demon. An archdemon should not have been able to break the Holy Ciphers, steal our lord’s mana, possess our priests and Rod members and then destroy Excrathadorus Mortis!”

Sentir Fallon sighed and finally sat down; he had been standing. “As you know, not even Orcus could overcome Excrathadorus Mortis. I have to come back to our earlier discussion about this demon possibly being Orcus returned.”

“In which case, Lenamare must be a warlock. Yes?” Hilda stated.

“Formally or informally,” Sentir sighed.

“Informally?” Hilda asked.

Sentir shrugged. “Basically your own argument a few moments ago. A warlock is formally bound to a demon via strong linking spells, as great as those of a priest.”

Moradel nodded. “I see your point. If he were so bound, then those wards of his would have complicated such a binding. So perhaps a more informal arrangement; not a true warlock, but a demon’s agent nonetheless.”

“Assuming the binding could expel a demon prince,” Beragamos said.

“The demon did flee the city,” Hilda noted.