Chapter Eleven

"Ugh, are they even sure that whatever it is we're searching for is here?"

"Don't complain, Melin, Pereph's just beyond that gorge. If we get in trouble because of your whining, you'll be buying our drinks," Jern hissed as their retinue trudged over a mound of muck and bile. "Where are we even going, anyway?"

"You'd know that if you read the briefing, friend."

"Ah! Mr. Weber! Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"How sincere," Jern thought as he rolled his eyes.

"Hey, you all, hurry your asses up!" Pereph screeched at them from the front of the convoy. "Let it be known that any soldier who misses his quota for this mission will have their pay halved for the next four months!"

"Ugh. I think she means business this time, boys," Melin groaned as he picked at some lint in his ear.

"Did the boss piss her off?"

"You wanna be the one brave enough to go and ask?"

"Hah!"

"Shut it, Ue." They continued on in this manner for a handful of minutes, interrupted only by the occasional sulfurous flare from the nearby volcanic vents, before finally arriving at their destination.

"So, this is Charon's ferry? It's my first time seeing it."

"How ominous," another groaned as a familiar figure waltzed out of the bridge. "And there's the man himself; looks like the boss is with him, too."

"Why'd he have us walk all the way here for a meeting when he knows damn well that we can all fly?" another member of their party complained.

"I heard on the grapevine that he used to be an Angel; apparently, he fell from grace or something like that."

"Huh? You mean like Lord Satan?"

"I'd keep details like that to yourself, unless you want to end up on the brass' hit list." Demons typically kept their pasts held close to their chests, protected by a fierce sense of pride and honor; rules such as this one were quite common amongst their kin, even though they were denizens of God's dumpster.

"Ugh, fine, I get it, I get it." With the gossip quieted, the group settled down and began the short, steep climb up to the ferry's main deck.

"Everyone line up!" Pereph ordered as the menagerie of soldiers piled onto the ship. "They're really taking their sweet time," she muttered with a sigh.

"Don't be too hard on them, Pereph. It isn't like they have much experience with the outside world."

"Respectfully, sir, they're all Demons, sir," Pereph responded with her characteristic half-sarcastic snide.

"She's got the heart of an Angel," he thought as he rolled his eyes. "Just make sure you don't whip them too hard." 

"I'll try my best, sir." He couldn't help but gawk at the woman's obvious sarcasm, but, in a strange way, he respected it.

"I think it's about time we get started." The Buried Council wasn't going to plunder itself. "Perk up, you all!" Aeron yelled as he clapped his hands together. "In a few minutes, we will be marching off toward our latest assignment: raiding the Buried Council's base—the seat of the Giants' civilization."

"Satan's really tossing you out of the pot and into the fire, eh?" Charon chuckled to Pereph's chagrin.

"The men are just antsy," she sighed, "Then again, how could they not be? It isn't like we have much experience fighting outside this hellhole." There was the last operation, but that was only one mission that lasted little more than a handful of hours. This, on the other hand, would be much longer and require a softer touch. "I just can't imagine that man being tactful."

"I'm dropping you and yours off at the main gate in twenty minutes; I recommend heading below deck."

"Don't make the voyage too rough, friend, these fools are going to be fighting those big oafs, remember?"

"I'm well aware of that," Charon murmured as he stared solemnly at several of the fresh-faced soldiers. "There's quite a few young'uns with you this time."

"Satan had to fill our ranks somehow. They made it this far; I know that they've got the skills."

"You and I both know that that's not the issue here. Are you okay? With this, I mean?"

"Ah, Charon, you're not going soft on me now, are you?" he joked as the ferryman coughed unceremoniously into his ragged robe.

"Don't flatter yourself, I'd just hate to lose a drinking buddy to the fetid mire you call a job. You've been fighting nonstop since you fell, Aeron, are you sure you're okay with that?" 

"Hah!"

"Oh? Did I say something funny? I'll be sure to spit on your coffin if you ever bite the bullet and your soul gets erased."

"Fret not, you old coot, I meant no offense," he responded with a slight smile. "I guess you can say that your words made me reminisce a bit."

"I guess it's a good thing that someone's listening to them," he groaned as his gaze wandered to Satan's citadel far off in the distance. "I don't doubt our lord's plans, but sometimes it really makes me wonder what goes through that mind of hers."

"If you worry about little things like that you'll go crazy before the year is done." It was common knowledge that Satan was stepping up production all across the netherworld; Hell was preparing for war and, willing or not, every one of its denizens could feel it. "Be ready to head out within the hour. I want to get this done as much as you do."

"Oh? That's certainly a first. I was always under the impression that you were a workaholic."

"There's a time and a place for everything," he responded as he stared back down at the troops. "Here we go again." His heart skipped a beat. "Damn, the air's heavy, what a bad omen." He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about this whole mess rubbed him the wrong way. It was as if he were a fish staring down the sharp teeth of a hook, ready to bite. "This whole mess is going to make a believer out of me, I swear."

Aeron winced as he and his retinue made their way up to a familiar clearing; like Zia and the Ascended before her, Satan transformed this once-holy portal into her latest tool of war. Using the Scale's power, she'd managed to transform it into a transmission platform similar to the one hidden away within the Courthouse's confines. Honestly, it was a feat that was as impressive as it was terrifying, as simply standing before the shimmering door was enough to make one's skin crawl.

"It's as pleasant as always," Aeron muttered to himself as Pereph kicked a stone into the now-corrupted riverbed. "Did you review the briefing?"

"I'm not the one you need to ask," she said as she double-checked her harnesses and supplies, "I'd be more concerned about that lot," she continued, jabbing a thumb in the direction of Aeron's favorite group of rookies.

"None of them have ever gone through a massive operation like this," he said with a shrug. "I'd cut them some slack."

"Really?" Pereph scoffed. "I never knew that Aeron Weber, of all people, was a soft type."

"I should at least try to be a good boss, don't you think?"

"Well you're doing a bang-up job of that." Pereph thought as a small vessel came flying overhead. "Looks like Lord Satan's finally arrived."

"That she has," Aeron muttered as he slowly made his way to the front of the pack. Satan waltzed down from her transport like a boa slithering out of its lair; she carried the aura of a mastermind on the precipice of some great breakthrough, and Aeron wasn't sure if he should be excited at that notion or terrified for the future.

"You all ready to start a war?!" she yelled at him in her usual carefree tone. "Here, I brought gifts for your dogs." Aeron didn't even get the chance to ask any questions before she dropped the mother of all suitcases right on top of his foot.

"What the hell?!" He winced as he reached down and tore the mind-bogglingly heavy carrier from the small crater it made in the stony ground. "So, what'd I do to deserve this?" he asked as he brushed some dust off his scuffed shoe. 

"I wouldn't pay her any mind," Dr. Leeson announced with a sigh as he marched up behind his boss with a scowl that'd make monsters quake.

"You look well," Pereph chimed in. "So," she continued, "what's with the book?"

"Book?" Hanging off Dr. Leeson's side was a small, tattered tome—barely bigger than a grown Demon's fist—which was decorated with an uncountable number of strange symbols and hieroglyphics.

"Is that—"

"The Scribe of the Isle?" Satan cut Pereph off. "Why in the world did you bring that old thing? I'm not sending them down the river."

"But we are forcing them to journey to unknown territory; they should have some insurance, just in case."

"Do what you please," Satan said as she waved the pair aside. "Aeron, you know how I am, and you know how I operate. I won't order you around like Beurt and the other judges, but at the very least I need you to show results. So, with that said, get moving." 

"I sure hope you know what you're doing," he responded with a sigh as he scratched the back of his neck. "All right, my friends, let's get this over with!" With that, he placed his hand atop his sword's hilt and gave Pereph the signal—a flamboyant snap—marking the beginning of the operation. "I appreciate the help, Dr. Leeson."

"Anytime," the Demon nodded as he handed Aeron the contentious tome. "Be careful with that, Mr. Weber, you have no idea what it's worth."

"It'll return to its shelf with nary a scratch." 

"It better," he finished with a nod. After that was over and done with, Satan made her necessary address and finally let Hell's finest go with a smile. However, even though her expression said otherwise, Aeron couldn't help but cringe at the sullen atmosphere which now hung over their heads.

"What should I even say at this point?" he thought as he turned to his men. "Ah, well," he announced as he took a stride toward the gate, "let's rob them blind, you oafs!"

"Amen!"

Zia sighed as she cracked her knuckles and leaned back against an ornate railing. After their meeting with the Buried Council's representatives, she and her aides were provided a cozy room to stay in for the rest of their visit. It was a wonderful little nest with large pillows, soft beds, and golden decorations dotted all over the premise.

"Ms. Lombardi," Elizabeth announced from behind a massive scribe's desk perched on the opposite end of the balcony, "I've been going through our contract and I'm a tad confused on the meaning of one of the clauses. It states that 'The Bureau of Judgmental Affairs' personnel—the term of which pertaining to both judges and diplomats—agree to follow and notarize the restriction of the Buried Council's national archive.' I'm taking this to mean that they don't want us poking our noses around in there; however, for our plan to work, both Heaven and the Giants need to have access to each other's intelligence. Putting a leash on us now, at this point, seems a bit..."

"Hasty?" Zia cut the girl off. "I agree; there's definitely something down there that they don't want us to see." For a second her mind wandered to that mysterious hallway stashed away in the back of the archive. "If only I had access." She couldn't sneak in like a common thief this time, especially when she was the Buried Council's guest. "Where's Kashif?"

"Over where he always is," Elizabeth muttered while shrugging toward the room's entrance.

"Hey, Kashif, I've got a job for you!" Like the very mist, the hulking bodyguard shimmered into view from the shadows. "Egh!" Zia recoiled back.

"Sorry, miss, did I startle you?"

"Do me a favor and don't get in the habit of sneaking up on your employer."

"Hah!" Elizabeth chortled.

"Anyways," Zia started in a desperate attempt to get their conversation back on track. "Kashif, I need you to go and patrol this complex. Keep to where the guards can see you, obviously, but I want eyes I trust out there."

"Sure, ma'am, but why?"

"Chalk it up to a woman's intuition," she muttered as she stared nervously off at the blood red horizon. "I'm getting goosebumps." Her instincts were screaming at her just as they did back during the Demons' first assault. She couldn't get caught off guard again, not with so much at stake. After this moment of reflection, she turned to continue explaining her logic, but Kashif was already long gone.

"He left as soon as you mentioned your 'intuition.'" 

"You two can read my mind, I swear," Zia sighed as she patted Elizabeth's shoulder. "Who knows where these two will be after a few more years?" For some reason, she felt oddly giddy.

"Oh, that's right, I nearly forgot!"

"Hmm?" Zia murmured as Elizabeth shoved a fancy envelope into her arms.

"It's from Elina. She wanted to give you something since you saved her life and all that."

"How kind of her! I'll be sure to return the favor!" Zia cooed as she reached for her letter opener; however, right as she was about to pull the trinket from her pocket, her hand brushed against Aeron's gavel. "This is..." Her blood ran cold. "No, that can wait for now," she murmured as she placed the unopened envelope back atop Elizabeth's desk. "There's still so much to be done before we can celebrate." As if on instinct, Zia hastily turned her attention to their suite's entrance and shivered. "I don't like this," she thought as the hairs on the back of her neck shot up. "Elizabeth, go get yourself into something more durable."

"Uh, sure, but why?" Elizabeth asked as Zia hurried to inspect the front door.

"Because," she continued as she tossed the girl a small key, "Kashif's not here, but the door's still locked."

"And you had the only key," Elizabeth murmured as her eyes went wide.

"Yeah," Zia said as she searched the suite for her weapons, "I'm not sure what it is, but I'm certain of this: there's more than just Giants and us roaming these halls."