Split of the Worlds (18+)

The pillows were too soft. Far too soft. N'Arahn had to constantly fight the unpleasant feeling that the colourful sofa could swallow him up. One wrong move and he would be lost forever in the silky embrace of the cushions.

Uncomfortably, the demonlord adjusted his belt to conceal his slipping back from the cushions. His feet searched in vain for a firmer footing on the pliant, thick carpet. The fact that he couldn't feel the floor because he was wearing boots didn't exactly improve his mood.

Krehn made him wait, and deliberately so. It was her prerogative as mistress of her fortress, and the schemers were also known for not having the best manners. But for one thing, N'Arahn didn't like this kind of game, and for another, he knew the demonduchess too well. She could be quite exceptionally polite, to the point where he felt nauseous.

That meant she had a good reason to keep him waiting, even if it was only to make him feel his position as a supplicant.

He suppressed the annoyed growl that rose in his throat. Apart from the unseen eyes and ears that were surely watching this room, the adjutant was kneeling beside the sofa. He had led N'Arahn into the room and offered to entertain him. More precisely, his words had been: 'The mistress wants you to have a pleasant stay. I am authorised to get you any drink you wish. I may also offer myself to you.'

The words had stuck in N'Arahn's mind, for he did not like the obsequiousness with which the young demon had spoken. His lean but wiry figure suggested a warmonger aspirant; the adjutant would probably have made an excellent archer by now. He should want to fight, not surrender to a fate as a plaything.

The warrior's thoughts wandered to Veidja, who he had left behind in his fortress. She refused to surrender. No matter how many times she was thrown into the dust, she got back up and challenged him. That was the right attitude.

The waiting made him restless and apathetic at the same time. His hands constantly wanted to pull at something and move, while his thoughts began to spin in circles like a sluggish maelstrom. No, you're not going to wear me down that easily, sister.

To keep himself occupied, he began to explore the details of the room. As if he were on the hunt for a shy game, he kept himself in calm concentration, relaxing his eyes and letting every little detail sink in.

The walls of the room were whitewashed, a colour that was difficult to obtain in the Red Depths. None of the many fabrics, whether as carpets on the floor, as knotted wall decorations or as covers for cushions and upholstery, seemed to have a single stain, loose thread or scuff. Everything was colourful, bold tones jostled with each other, but were combined in such a balanced way that they created a harmonious effect. A display case made of wood, not ironwood; it must have been difficult to get hold of the material. It contained a few selected crystals, possibly jewellery, possibly crystallised mana, possibly stored knowledge.

Everything here was exclusive, expensive, impressive. If you were interested in material possessions and their display. The room was exactly what he had expected from Krehn. And probably led the conclusions drawn about its owner in precisely the wrong direction.

A movement suddenly caught N'Arahn's attention. No, not the movement itself; a gemstone had reflected the light in the room as a glare. The adjutant was still kneeling beside the sofa, but had shifted his weight slightly. N'Arahn wasn't particularly interested in jewellery, so it was only now that he really noticed the open front choker the demon was wearing. He had sorted it out as a potential threat at a glance, as the budding warmonger would have had to more or less pull the metal through his neck to take it off. The opening was too narrow and sharp-edged. However, the circlet was adorned with sapphires all around; one of these had just aroused his vigilance with its lustre. A demon shackle? That would explain his behaviour.