Leviathan stomped the halls, ignoring his guards’ salutes. 

She was really out to ridicule him, having him walk in circles like a rupture crab! No, he'd done that all by himself! Patience, his arse! What had he been doing all this time? Playing king-fiddle whenever she flashed her grey eyes at him. He’d been happy as her private urge-toy, whenever she felt like it, for however long she wanted. Like a hound in heat. Damn it. That wasn’t it either.

All this time, had she been holding on to some death wish? Hell bent on her little rogue army of souls and sweet-talking that skeevy looking wolf, right under Leviathan’s nose.

Leviathan paused. Fuck me.

He’d missed the long room by a few too many doors. With a scowl etched on, he doubled back, ignoring the ox guards’ perplexed stares.

Everyone except Lucious stood to greet him when the king walked in.  Leviathan narrowed his eyes at the wolf guards who stood on either side of the chair he was to take. Lucious had ordered them there, no doubt. Another blatant and humiliating reminder they were still under attack.

This ended up being a small gathering, where aside from Lucious and Mammon, only Faust attended. The stout rhinoceros had been the sole high-noble survivor from the attack at the pit. Most of the other lackeys were dead or on their way to welcome death. Aside from injuring some of his kingly pride, Leviathan reasoned losing the majority of his nobles wasn’t a mournful loss. They'd been nothing but a tolerable hindrance, even during Satan's rule; always angling for a throne they would never possess. Their limited access to the colours kept them in line, each only able to command two or three of them; rarely the Grey. Never the Red; as though knowing better, the colours simply rejected them.

Relying on their innate abilities, the high-nobles weren't so weak that one could easily dismiss them, but they also weren't as strong that they couldn't be subdued. They were useful, to some extent, for their resources and managing the other kingdoms, but that was it. Leviathan judged their father had prolonged the importance of the high-nobles to cater to the delusion of ruling Hell together. It entertained him, to have these posers rolling over each other to please him. Early on, from the shadows of his isolation, Leviathan saw first-hand how greed and arrogance grew within the nobles over the years. Loyalties shifted too quickly among them to whoever was winning. And even though he was now in the light, sitting on his father’s throne, Leviathan wasn’t entirely certain he had the winning vote.

Judging by the way Faust raised his chin and spied him with the corner of his eye, Leviathan knew he was in for some of that arrogance disguised with loyalty. The attack at the pit had rid him from at least a few dozen headaches like him. Perhaps there was such a thing as a silver lining. Maybe the miserable wretch standing behind Faust’s chair wouldn’t see it the same way. The servant boy was unchained, but he stood behind Faust as if he still were, seeing no end to his torment.

“We’re thrilled you came away unscathed, my lord,” Faust said, pulling his red silk cloak behind his seat. As expected from a descendant of greed, Faust would not part with his excesses in times of crisis. In fact, to Leviathan, it seemed the demon’s hold on his trinkets only increased, as if they would raft him to a longer life. The bruising around his pretty boy-servant’s neck and wrists looked recent, contrasting with his clean-shaved head. It seemed the high-noble was repulsed by hair. His fat fingers seemed unable to curl, given the excessive number of rings. From his neck to his wrists, golden chains rattled with each of his laboured breaths.

Faust was not a demon to show true intent; not even during the drunk-filled parties Leviathan used to throw to entertain the high-lords. And Leviathan knew better than to trust a sober demon. It was like dallying with death whilst wearing a blindfold. Though right now, having been robbed of a horn, half of his robust moustache, and most of his posse at the arena, seemed to have shaved some of the rhinoceros’ confidence.

 Leviathan leaned back in his chair. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

“…Why… all of us here, of course; there is not a demon in Court who doesn’t feel it. What would happen to us without you!”

Well, at least he tried to sound sincere. Leviathan wondered how his father had dealt with Faust for so long. Maybe it was the fact that Faust gave the impression that he never snivelled, like the others. The demon was smart enough to adjust his ways to Satan’s shifting moods with little effort. He liked to be blunt, too, though he didn’t always quite embrace the right timing. “But?”

Faust’s fingers sought to smooth the half of the moustache that was no longer there before glancing at Lucious.

Leviathan frowned. “I asked you the question; not him.”

“My king… Fear is spreading. It is forcing demons to flee. Some are vowing to find your father; bring him back from his... er... retirement.”

Leviathan cocked his head.

“Drunken fools, I assure you,” Faust waved quickly. “But my king, they are leaving. More than half the market is already gone. I, myself, have already lost half of my workforce. Without enough souls to attract the workers, there is not much to keep them here.”

“There’s no going back on that, Faust,” Lucious said. “The unregulated consumption of souls will not resume just because we’re under threat.”

“And why not?! Would you have us continue being decimated like cattle? Is it not souls that make and strengthen a demon? The slaughter at the arena might’ve not happened had demons been better… fed.”

“The slaughter might have not happened had someone manned the east gate adequately, Lord Faust,” Mammon said. “Was it not your shield to handle, my lord?”

The rhinoceros shifted in his seat, nostrils flaring as if someone had stenched up the room. Leviathan hadn’t dismissed how Faust had been so vocal against Mammon’s ascension to grand marshal. It was hard enough for the likes of noble-blooded demons to make a dent in Hell’s Court; promoting orphaned half-breeds like Mammon to high ranked positions would only entice the next common demon to try their luck, too. Among the high-nobles, Faust wasn’t alone in this kind of thinking. The move had insulted their haunches enough that they didn’t bother masking their true thoughts behind their usual falsity. Again, good riddance.

This silver wolf needed no saving, though.

“Lord Faust? Did the slaughter affect your hearing as well?”

The rhinoceros raised his chin and looked down at the wolf, enhancing his broad chest that rivalled that of an ox’s. “If my shield is weak, it is because the limited colours you allow me to use make me weak! Must I explain again that without the right sustenance—”

“You have the right sustenance well within your reach,” Lucious cut in, as he did when the nobles protested against his favourite wolf. “It’s well established that demons don’t need souls to survive. Stop using this crisis to propel your agenda.”

“Prince Lucious, I call for some reason! Those scraps the elders concoct are barely enough to help control souls, let alone demons.”

Mammon cleared his throat. “By law, my lord, you shouldn’t be controlling anyone. Your demons and souls serve you willingly; by choice. Are you confessing to your use of the Grey?”

The high-noble clenched his fist hard enough that a ring from his little finger popped and clunked on the marble table, making the soul servant behind him flinch.

Leviathan reached for the trinket and realised he could fit in two of his own fingers. He chuckled at the rhino, but this one did not reciprocate the amusement. It was refreshing to have someone else getting their nerves tingled by Lucious and Mammon.

“I have done no such thing, grand marshal.” Faust’s tone remained curt.

“Spiffing news, my lord. You’ll be with us a while longer.” Mammon offered the Rhinoceros his most dry smile; the one Leviathan and Mara often compared to determine whether it was more annoying than demeaning.

Lucious’ sigh signalled his removal from the pointless discussion. “Faust, we’re not here seeking blame. Too many of us are dead, dying or fleeing. This isn’t the time for more dissension. We need to focus on our next move.” His glance landed on Mammon, who with a nod, agreed to relent on the accusations.

Leviathan juggled Faust’s broken ring a few times in the air. “Our next move? It seems straightforward to me.”

Lucious narrowed his eyes, maybe recognising Leviathan’s tone when he was about to say something to his dislike.

“I’m not saying we give her up, but she is the obvious bait—”

“No!”

“I’m saying we’re not just gonna hand her over—”

“I SAID NO!” Lucious stood up.

Leviathan also stood, folding knuckles on the table. “Watch yourself. If I’m calling it, you think you have a say in it?!”

“If I may… technically, Prince Lucious still has a claim to the throne, if not one foot. It’s not been long since he relinquished it… to you…” Faust said. The icy silence made the rhinoceros lower his gaze. A quick glance at Mammon, who was shaking his head, confirmed the noble's comment was untimely and unfortunate, and that the consequences would ultimately catch up to him.

Between clenched teeth, Lucious said, “you’ll kill me first. Mara will have no part in this.”

“Oh, you hammy twat! Don't tempt me. She’s already part of it!! She’s been part of it the minute you brought her to Hell! Why do you think they went for her room? It’s a matter of time before they get to her. We need to lure them out before they do!”

Lucious started pacing in silent fury, locked in his own dark thoughts, blocking anyone who tried to reach in. His brother turned into a ripe dickwit when it came to Mara.

Leviathan glared at Faust. "Say it again, Faust. I didn’t quite hear you the first time. Something about a technicality? And a foot on the throne?"

When he once, and altogether avoided the silver wolf, the rhino noble spared no qualms this time. It would be interesting to see him plead for defence to someone he’d snubbed for so long; and not just with his eyes. Mammon however, offered no hope and no eye contact, but spared another head shake. 

A knock on the door announced Faolán. The large wolf held firm under the council’s tense and impatient scrutiny. Leviathan did not need to see this wolf now. “What?”

“The female soul, Anise. I thought it would be of value to mention some of her… behaviour…”

Mammon made a rolling motion with his index finger to hasten the wolf.

“In the arena, I was observing her. Throughout the event, she hardly reacted to the fights; not even when the recruits advanced. But then as soon as the false angels entered—”

“False angels?” Leviathan cut in.

“It’s what they’re calling them, Sir.”

“Who’s they?”

“… everyone, Sir.”

“It’s true that the elders have determined some angel essence in the remains of the creature they analysed,” Mammon said. “It wasn’t conclusive, and they’re still looking into it. They believe these creatures are some sort of descendants of angels or former angels themselves.”

“What could’ve cause them to change?” Lucious asked, and Leviathan shifted in his seat, feeling his brother’s curiosity appeasing some of his anger. “Oi wolf, carry on,”

“Anise reacted to these creatures before they went invisible. She repeatedly said: Not going back.” Faolán let that sink in for a moment. “She seemed… terrified.”

“We all saw how she handles terrified,” Leviathan dismissed. “She’s still locked up?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Keep it that way until you hear otherwise. Is that all?”

“Sir.” Faolán saluted and left the room.

Leviathan took a long sip of the drink he had just poured, spying the glances between Lucious and Mammon. Lucious then spared Leviathan a sour look, but said nothing. So he chose to delegate the talking to Mammon. And right on the second, Mammon started. “We could interrogate this Anise, but is she the only recourse at our disposal?”

“She has clearly come across these creatures. Use the Grey if you must! She has information we need.” Faust seemed too keen, but another Red glare from Leviathan silenced the large noble.

Leviathan waited, suspecting the mind-communication between Lucious and Mammon was coming to an end, and it’d be nothing he’d like.

“In this instance, and perhaps only in this instance, Lord Faust may be closer to a solution. It would be wise to find out everything we can about these creatures. Where they come from; what they are; or even who commands them. Not with so many words, but this Anise may be able to help us; while her mind is still her own. Based on the similarities in the reports we’ve been receiving, I’d be remiss not to mention the similarities with the sporadic attacks in Hell’s settlements.”

Leviathan cocked his head, impatient for the actual point to come. “Beelzebub may be of help. His wife, more specifically,” Mammon said resolutely.

“Not an option.”

Lucious slammed a hand on the table, nearly standing up again. “You’d throw Mara to the wolves at the first chance, but to a logical solution, you dismiss it without a say!”

“I never said she’d be unprotected!”

Lucious’ hand on the table closed into a fist. “Aarin will know how these angels think; she can give information, share what their weaknesses are. She’s a formidable warrior! To have her and Beelzebub on our side would—”

“Goddamn it, I said no!” Leviathan slammed the glass on his desk. “I’ll let Court burn before I let either of them set foot in here! You disagree, you're welcome to make a move again for the chair. Unlike you, I won't just hand it over.”

“Mm, from the latest reports received from the South gate residences, my king, Court is already burning,” Mammon said.

Leviathan glared at his silver-haired adviser until this one lowered his gaze. In a different world without Haru and Mara, Leviathan wondered if these two wouldn’t more than get it on, so much they loved each other's opinions. Prickled fucks.