Taking Stock

"From the quartermaster's report," Vont said, standing before Meztraxia in his command tent, "we have enough crystals to safeguard our army for at least a fortnight."

"That will suffice," Meztraxia said, "though we'll have to see about obtaining more along the way." He went back to looking at his maps, only to notice that Vont was still there. "Do you need something else?"

"It's nothing important, my lord, I was simply wondering if we couldn't have killed the remaining humans and taken their city for ourselves. Then we would no longer need to worry about corruption."

"Does it terrify you so that you'd prefer to hideaway behind walls built by humans?" Meztraxia asked, amused.

"No, my lord. I as happy to serve you as ever in the field, my concern is for the women and children. Would it not be better if they had a safe place to live?"

"Perhaps it would, and they're welcome to conquer a city for themselves if they desire one so badly. But such things are of no concern to me; the Demon King tasked me with continuing his revenge against the humans, and that is precisely what I intend to do." He punctuated his point by slamming the table with his fist, and Vont flinched.

His aide looked as if he wished to retreat and abandon his ill-founded line of questioning, but he remained in place as Meztraxia rose from his seat and continued. "Their cities are no place for even the weakest among us. I would erase all trace of the humans' presence upon this world if I had the time. Unfortunately, that shall have to wait until the humans themselves are all dead." He stepped in close to the shorter demon, their bright red skin paling in fear. "That is our holy mission, and you would do well to remember it. Now go, and see to it that the troops are ready to march."

"Yes, my lord." Ducking his head, Vont fled the tent.

Full of righteous anger, mostly directed toward the humans, Meztraxia found himself too wound up to continue planning. Instead he paced back and forth, imagining all the other cities he would bring to ruin. It would only get easier from here; he could already feel the power he'd stolen from the god he'd slain becoming part of him. If he could keep steal the strength of a few more, then he wouldn't even need an army.

Reminding himself that he still had conquering to do and many preparations to make before that day came, he calmed himself enough to return to work. Much as he'd prefer to entrust command to someone else, that he might focus only on destroying the humans, there was simply no one else he could trust with it. He was the only one the fallen Demon King had given his favour to; how could he ever allow another to give him commands?

Plotting the course of his army's march was tedious work, and blessedly he was almost done, when another of his underlings came calling. Cyaform was tall and broad-shouldered, with light grey skin and three blunt horns. Many years ago, he got into a disagreement with another Demon Lord and had his face disfigured as a result, causing him to appear perpetually in a foul mood. Which, in Meztraxia's appearance, he generally was.

"Arxen," he said, calling Meztraxia by his given name despite being a circle beneath him in rank, "my scouts report Lord Nostlinum's army to be two days away."

And of course, he didn't fail to refer to Meztraxia's rival by his proper name. If he didn't know the man, Meztraxia would have thought Cyaform might be trying to get under his skin. However, he'd known his fellow Demon Lord for years, and Meztraxia was certain that was exactly what his underling was trying to do. Cyaform had always been more brave than clever; were it not for his service and the men who followed him, Meztraxia would have killed him for his insolence.

"My scouts, you mean," Meztraxia said, making a vain attempt at putting the man in his place. Even death likely wouldn't be able to manage that. "How many does Nostlinum bring with him?"

"Perhaps twelve thousand men."

Meztraxia tapped his fingers on the table. "Scarcely enough to replace our losses, and fewer than was promised. Fetch Vexoxin, we may need to alter our plans."

"Fetch him yourself," Cyaform said, taking a seat at the table and picking his teeth.

While Meztraxia could easily have called for one of his attendants waiting outside, he simply could not let this insult stand. "If you no longer desire to follow my orders, then you're free to take your men and leave. Though I'm sure they'll mourn the loss of their glory, just as I'm sure you'll mourn the loss of your head."

"Are you threatening me?" Cyaform demanded, hand going to the dagger on his belt.

"Of course I'm threatening you, you ugly fool. Now do as your bid before I remove that useless appendage attached to your neck."

Cyaform got to his feet, towering over the seated Meztraxia. "You can't talk to me like this."

"And yet I am. I still have much work to do, so hurry up and make your choice."

Cyaform's whole body tensed, as if to spring at his superior who continued to coolly await the outcome. Ultimately, torn face twitching, Cyaform walked out. He returned less than a few minutes later with the other commander of their forces. Though Meztraxia's two direct subordinates shared the same rank, the two were rather different. Unlike Cyaform, who was very much in his prime, Vexoxin was old and withered, with deep blue skin and a single broken horn. His advanced age had also brought him wisdom that was sorely lacking in his escort. In Meztraxia's estimation, he was the far more dangerous of the two. Fortunately, he had sense enough to know his place; if they were to lose their leader, then their cause would die with him.

"You sent for me, my lord?" he asked.

"Indeed, take a seat."

Once his two subordinates were seated, Meztraxia continued. "I've been told Nostlinum approaches with twelve thousand men. A sizeable force, but not enough for us to confidently strike at one of the larger cities as I had hoped. Thus, I have asked you both here to ask your opinion. Should we wait for additional reinforcements, strike at one of the lesser cities, or press on as I initially intended despite the risks?"

"We should strike wherever we please," Cyaform said, "what do we have to fear from those who cower behind their walls? Has your victory so easily satisfied your taste for blood? I thought you wished to bring humanity to their knees."

Meztraxia was amazed at the rapidity with which Cyaform had forgotten the reprimand, or perhaps this was his idea of tact.

"I do, and we shall do so in time one way or another." He gestured for Vexoxin to speak, though even then the old man was slow to oblige him.

"Normally I would counsel you to wait; the humans' cities aren't going anywhere. But Lord Azuren's demands for us to join his host grow more insistent by the day, if we still wish to win any glory for ourselves then we must strike sooner rather than later. Much as I mislike the idea of assaulting one of their greater cities with our current forces, I fear it is the best course." He bowed his head to Meztraxia. "We shall simply have to trust in your leadership and strength, my lord."

"So be it. Ready the men. Once Nostlinum arrives, we shall march for the Arid Sea."

Though whatever water had once stood there was long gone, many of the humans' greatest cities still stood upon its shores. He would see to it that their cities ended up every bit as barren as the sea.