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Chapter Text

Sparda was happy. He and Evelyn and the boys were walking out across the heathland, which he ached to see it sounded truly beautiful. But most importantly, he was actually happy. He’d never, never really felt like this before. It was a contentedness that was deeply unfamiliar. Sparda had thought he had been happy before, but always there had been an aching and a nagging in his mind, to always go further, conquer more. He had never been able to be content before. But now, being completely blind and, essentially, bound in servitude to a human, he felt at last freed from his compulsion to slaughter and snarl. It was more blissful than anything he’d felt before in his life.

It was coming into mid afternoon when it happened. Sparda had been listening pleasantly to Evelyn explain the concept of music, when he suddenly caught a snatch of a familiar scent floating in the afternoon breeze. He tensed, his head snapping this way and that trying to catch more of it, a thorough alertness settled over him as he stood to protect Evelyn and the boys. All three were beginning to emit the scent of worry and anxiety, good, so they at least had an idea of what was about to happen.

“Humans.” He clarified to Evelyn, who stood just a little behind him. “Maybe 10 of them. They’re hidden in the gorse.” He summoned Devil Sword Sparda with a simple flex of his hand, he wanted to make a clear show of strength to these humans. Their scent was dominated by the scent of anger, and Sparda was worried that could lead to them acting rashly and attacking the children. Better to have them dominated by fear than risk harm to any of the humans present. “Come out!” He called at them, stripping them of their perceived advantage. “I can smell you perfectly, you won’t be able to ambush us!” He called into the clear afternoon air. Nothing stirred.

“Demon! How dare you take hostages! Release the girl and boys at once! The taking of hostages is unacceptable in our culture, although I suppose you would stoop to it without question!”
“I will not release them.” Sparda growled back, a dangerous tone to his voice. “You cannot harm them.”
“Saving them for yourself?” The voice replied, the speaker standing slowly. He smelt young, still brimming with anger, a sword in one hand and a round shield in the other. “Your kind disgusts me! Well know this, monster, you won’t live to see the sunset!” Around the four of them, a semicircle of over 10 soldiers rose from the bushes, all similar young men, although from the smell of it they were armed with spears. That would be a better weapon against him, Sparda supposed, as it would do something to address the height difference between himself and the soldiers.

A million different plans of attack began to form in Sparda’s head, but he was met with nothing but frustration. He could not devise a way to incapacitate the men quickly enough to not leave the children unprotected. Even now, he could not bring himself to kill these soldiers, so he had to be slow enough not to do them damage, Sparda knew all too well what happened when you hit a human at speeds they could not comprehend. Therefore, to be slow enough not to damage the humans, he would have to leave Evelyn, Sam and Robert unprotected as he went around them, and he was well aware what panicked soldiers would do to three possibly hostile children while he was, supposedly, killing off their teammates.

Damn it! It would be so much easier if Sparda could just kill them! Clearly, his best, and only, option was to scare them away. Sparda didn’t want to contemplate what he would have to do if, as was seeming more and more likely, they didn’t scare easily.
“Oh, really?” Sparda growled, splaying his wings to try and make himself seem bigger. “YOU’RE going to kill ME?? Have you ANY idea who I am? I have killed THOUSANDS of your kind, you are simply one more.” For good measure, Sparda created a collection of Summoned Swords around himself, a halo of violence. “You will NOT stand against me. You will NOT threaten me. YOU WILL RUN!” He finished with a deep snarl, throaty and course, as he brandished his sword and flashed his eyes at the human.

While some of the soldiers recoiled from the Demon Lord’s display, their commander didn’t even flinch. His own scent simply filled yet further with rage, becoming a blazing fire of fury as he glared right back at the dark knight. It didn’t work. Fuck! He was in for it now. Sparda did not begin to panic, but he was very far from calm.
“As if I needed anymore proof of the horrors your kind are capable of!” He yelled. “SOLDIERS! READY!” The soldiers tensed, and Sparda did in turn. Speed was of the essence, he would have to kill them. He had no choice. At least he would keep Evelyn safe, although he was already dreading the talking to he was going to get. He was still dreading ending these foolish humans a lot more. He could see the leader breathe in deeply, and he waited like a coiled spring for the death sentence to be given, Devil Sword Sparda’s weight in his hand like the grim reaper’s scythe.

But before any of that could happen, Evelyn suddenly dashed in front of Sparda, standing between him and the soldiers, and yelled,
“STOP!” Hell! She was going to die! Sparda’s brain went into overdrive. How on earth was he to protect her now?!? Except, the men weren’t moving. The commander had never actually ordered them forward, and was instead gazing at Evelyn with a scent of complete confusion.
“Evelyn?!? What are you doing?!?” He hissed.-
“Shut up!” She hissed back, her eyes flashing. “There are somethings humans have to handle! And somethings women have. This is both.”

“Don’t you understand that’s a demon!?!” The commander shouted, capturing both of their attentions back. “It’ll kill you in a moment!!”
“No he won’t! He’s protected us all this way, and – and I’ve seen, he’s grown into a real person! You can’t kill him and I won’t see you hurt each other!”
“Have you cast a spell on her demon?!?” The commander’s confusion was growing by the second, although his rage was not abating. “How DARE you!”

“STOP IGNORING ME!!!” Evelyn shouted, staring down the human man with a scent just as rage-filled. “I am the one talking to you, NOT HIM! And I am telling you, SPARDA IS NOT A THREAT! I have come from the west, from the Stronghold of the Pine Trees. I have survived the entire demon army through my own strength alone. I have travelled for three days straight, and protected what is left of my family. I am HALF your age. You have NO RIGHT to ignore me and NO RIGHT to tell me I do not know Sparda. I have lead us here in search of sanctuary and understanding, but now I see that I will get that better from demons.”

The young human had been carefully listening, his confusion hadn’t changed but his anger had slowly deflated out of him. What Sparda found most interesting, however, was the fact that he had flinched at the mention of Evelyn’s home, and was finally showing some fear.
“Pine Trees? You came from Stronghold of Pine Trees? Are you saying the demon army has taken the Stronghold of Pine Trees?!?” Evelyn was evidently not impressed by that remark.
“That’s what you take from this?" Evelyn replied sarcastically. "Not, I don’t know, an apology for threatening to attack my traveling companions?” “I will not apologising for doing my duty and hunting demons. But DID YOU SAY THAT PINE TREES HAS FALLEN?!?”
“Wha – I – yes. Yes I did.”
“Are you certain?”
“I’m pretty certain I didn’t imagine my home going up in flames and everyone I’ve ever known being slaughtered, yes.”
“Gods.” At last the commander straightened from his battle stance. “That’s closer than we thought.”

There was silence for just a moment, and the smell of shock filled the air, although unfortunately the commander was the first to surface.
“Men! Don’t forget we are still in the presence of a demon!” The soldiers responded by keeping their spears firmly trained on Sparda. Ah well, it wasn’t like he was unused to everyone hating him. “Miss, if what you say is true…you must come back with us to the Stronghold of the Lake. They need to know what you can tell them.”
“You’re from a Stronghold?”
"Uh – yes? Why would there be 11 heavily armed soldiers in the middle of nowhere?”
“I didn’t really…think. But, you’re the Stronghold we’ve been searching for!” Ah, Evelyn had rather tipped her hand there. Ah well, she was handling it remarkably well, Sparda reflected. She had made them forget he was even there, to a certain extent.
“So, will you come with us to our Stronghold? We can give you the sanctuary and understanding you said you were looking for, and your information will be vital.”
“Really? You’ll actually invite us in? You didn’t seem too keen on that a moment ago…..”
“What are you…are you suggesting we allow the demon in with you?!? That’s madness!” Evelyn’s anger was building again.

Sparda didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Evelyn was actually trying to make a case for him to be allowed into these human’s stronghold. The Demon Lord. He wasn’t sure if she was mad or making a very clever power play, although unfortunately he knew his interference right now would help anything. It was hard to swallow though.
“I thought I’d already told you,” Evelyn continued, “Sparda is no threat. I – I have tamed him, from a ferocious demon to a – a servant.” Sparda started at that. Evelyn was clearly making this up on the spot. Yet the soldiers hadn’t seemed to have noticed, and instead were now regarding with Evelyn with a sense of awe. Shame that the commander wasn’t so easy to win over. “So, I will only come back to your Stronghold if my family and m-my servant can come too. After all, I am a young woman. I really shouldn’t follow a bunch of soldiers around without a chaperone you know.” Damn, that was actually pretty clever, Sparda reflected. Evelyn was doing a much better job than he ever would.
“Damn. You’re pretty good at this, Miss. I don’t think I can argue with that. Assuming you have trained this demon which, bearing in mind it hasn’t actually attacked us yet, I’m more inclined to believe.” The commander actually laughed, softly. “Alright men, keep an eye on that demon and don’t let your spears go slack for a second! We’ll take them as close to the Stronghold as we can before someone else stops us.” Sparda was very surprised the soldiers didn’t argue with their leader at that. He knew if he had given a similar order to demons he would’ve received plenty of back-chat.
“Miss, will you walk with me?”
“I’m not leaving Sparda’s side.”
“Suit yourself. My name is Ahearn.”
“Ahearn, I can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you but it could be worse. My name is Evelyn, my brother’s names are Sam and Robert, and the demon’s name is Sparda. Please use them, or I’ll just refer to you as ‘oi’.”
“Noted. Alright men, let’s go.”

The soldiers moved forward to form a ring around the four of them, spears present but not brandished, as their leader turned away from them and started walking away onto the heath. Evelyn started to follow him, although between her and him was a spearman, so Sparda felt he had little choice but to follow her. He bent down quickly and scooped up both of the twins, carefully placing one on either shoulder plate. Both had squeaked with surprise, they had been petrified up until this point, but with each one clinging onto one of his horns for balance, he hoped it would comfort them. Well, he had that thought until they both started crying, hot thick tears falling across the top of his horns and down his back.
“Boys? What’s wrong?”
“I thought – I thought you were gonna die!” One wailed.
“And I was so scared! I couldn’t do anything!” Cried the other.
“Hey, hey, you two!” Evelyn called up to them. “You were very brave! You didn’t cry or run away, even if perhaps you wanted to?” Both twins lit up with embarrassment then.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Continued Evelyn. “You wanted to run away and you didn’t. That’s a lot braver than most.”
“I guess.”
“I wish I could’ve helped you though, sis. I was so scared you were gonna get hurt.” Both were still sniffling, although their tears had dried up remarkably fast. Had they used up too many in the past few days? Did humans run out of tears?

“I was scared for Evelyn too.” Sparda admitted. He was very tempted to look at the boys, before he remembered that would send them flying off his shoulders.
“What?!? But you’re – ” One twin exclaimed. Even Evelyn showed a little shock.
“I know, but there was nothing I could do either. And that is scary.”
“Sparda’s right.” Evelyn said, a smile in her tone. “There sometimes are times when you can’t do anything, but if you keep a brave face, just like you two did, you support your friends who sometimes can do something when you can’t. That’s why I’m here.” Sparda smiled at that, as best he could. There was something about the tenderness and love spilling from all three of the humans and, to his surprise, some of the soldiers as well. Perhaps that was empathy in them too.
“Thanks sis.” Chorused the twins.

“You boys are lucky to have a big sister so brave. Foolish, but brave. And good at negotiations.” Evelyn practically glowed with pride at that, which surprised Sparda. He hadn’t realised she held him in such high regard.
“I saw that you thought you had to kill them.” Evelyn said quietly. “I didn’t want to put you through that when there was some way I could stop it.” Sparda was about to thank Evelyn, when they saw that they had arrived. Before them, the heathland sloped up and away from them into a hill, on the top of which perched a series of ditches and embankments Sparda recognised as typical human Stronghold. However, this one looked noticeably bigger than any others he had seen before, with a handful of sizable towers that came close to some demonic architecture. He was shocked. This must be the heart of the human resistance. Mundus had searched for this for YEARS. And he was now so close, it would take the army much less than three days to travel here. No wonder Ahearn was afraid.

Chapter Text

Evelyn’s heart was racing, her hand shaking slightly. That had to have been one of the most terrifying things she had done in her life, including facing down a Demon Lord with a sword she couldn’t use, but she was more than glad it had worked. She had been right, there were somethings that needed a human touch, and even more that needed a woman’s touch. Evelyn was just thankful to all the gods that she had judged this one right.
“Alright men, let’s go.” The leader, Ahearn he had said his name was, called out the soldiers that were still threatening her and her family. Ahearn himself was a mean-looking man. He was tall and thin, but in a way that made it look like he had been forged from pure iron. Iron from swords, mind you. His hair was a dirty blonde, and pulled into a small ponytail with such severity that his face seemed to almost float over his neck. It wasn’t flattering, considering the myriad of scars that pockmarked his face, everything from small burns to slashes. From the looks of it, they continued down below the hem of his tunic. He didn’t have many wrinkles though, and overall looked young despite the frankly terrifying number of scars. His eyes were a dull, muted light hazel, and seemed to perpetually glare at everyone. Evelyn was only glad that Sparda had stayed a presence at her back. She didn’t know if she’d have had the confidence to face the soldier, at least double her age, otherwise.

The soldiers moved had formed a ring around them, spears held to the sky, as Ahearn turned and started to make his way through the gorse. Evelyn glanced at the soldiers, who seemed to be following after their leader, glancing across at her and, she was sure, Sparda through the corners of their eyes. Guess there wasn’t anything for it than following him like a prisoner. Hearing a squeak of surprise, she turned to see her little brothers riding on Sparda’s shoulders, balancing around his horns like the branches of a tree. Evelyn couldn’t help but smile at that, until both of them burst into tears in front of her. She opened her mouth to comfort them, but to her surprise was beaten there by Sparda.
“Boys? What’s wrong?”
“I thought – I thought you were gonna die!” Burst out Robert. At least, she thought it was Robert.
“And I was so scared! I couldn’t do anything!” Cried the other. Probably Sam.
“Hey, hey, you two! You were very brave!” Evelyn said in reply, angling her head back to look at them. “You didn’t cry or run away, even if perhaps you wanted to?” Both twins turned beet red. Whoops, perhaps that wasn’t the thing to say. At least they had both stopped crying. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” She continued hastily. “You wanted to run away and you didn’t. That’s a lot braver than most.”
“I guess.”
“I wish I could’ve helped you though, sis. I was so scared you were gonna get hurt.” Thankfully both of her brothers had calmed down considerably now, drying tears already becoming sniffles.

“I was scared for Evelyn too.” Sparda said suddenly, startling Evelyn. She had certainly not expected that from him. Some of the soldier’s glances were becoming more curious too.
“What?!? But you’re – ” I-think-he’s-Sam exclaimed.
“I know, but there was nothing I could do either. And that is scary.”
“Sparda’s right.” Evelyn said, a smiling lightly. For the first time she felt she actually understood what Sparda was trying to say, and that she agreed wholeheartedly with it. “There sometimes are times
when you can’t do anything, but if you keep a brave face, just like you two did, you support your friends who sometimes can do something when you can’t. That’s why I’m here.”

The twins both had wide-eyed expressions plastered across their faces, a mix of hope, disbelief and understanding. Sparda’s face had changed too, Evelyn realised with a start and it looked – it looked like he was smiling. Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn even spotted one or two of the soldiers trying desperately to supress their own smiles.
"Thanks sis.” Chorused the twins.
“You boys are lucky to have a big sister so brave. Foolish, but brave. And good at negotiations.” Sparda rumbled, his words undeniably coloured with joy. Wow, that felt amazing coming from Sparda, he really did think she’d handled the situation well.
“I saw that you thought you had to kill them.” Evelyn admitted quietly. No matter how fantastic his praise felt she couldn’t take credit for choices that had really been out of her hands. “I didn’t want to put you through that when there was some way I could stop it.”

It was at that moment the soldiers stopped, and Evelyn looked out at where they had walked to, tearing her eyes away from her small family. The gorse and scattering of trees stopped, adjusting slowly into grasses which stretched away up to a stronghold in front of them. What amazed Evelyn though was the scale of the settlement in front of her. It looked like her home, but easily twice, if not three times, the size. There was one main gate in front of her, with towers as tall as the largest tree she had ever seen and even a rough beaten path extending OUTSIDE of the embankments. The embankments themselves were huge, working their way well up the twin towers of the entrance gate, and Evelyn was unsure whether she would be able to climb them at all. Beyond that, she could only imagine the sheer scale of the world beyond those huge walls. She couldn’t even see them begin to curl in on themselves at either end of the humongous hilltop, just how far did they reach around? How many people must live in this huge establishment? Evelyn hadn’t even thought that there were enough people in the world to fill up a place so huge.

"Oh my gods.” She whispered, shock the only thing she could really feel. It was just, so enormous compared to her home. “Can anything that big really exist?” Ahearn was looking at Evelyn, something between disbelief and contempt.
“You travelled all the way here from Pine Trees, and you’re asking questions like that?” He sneered. “There’s more world between there and here. You must have seen that.” That, was not what she had expected, to be honest, but it was a good point. Evelyn had travelled more in the past three days than perhaps anyone else here, Sparda excluded. It wasn’t like the traders and merchants of old could travel anymore with demons rampaging through the world. Compared to how far she had come already, the colossal stronghold in front of her didn’t seem quite so huge.
“But still, so many people.” She replied. “All those minds and homes and bodies and…..it’s amazing.” A huge smile broke out across her face then. There had to be more people in the Stronghold in front of her than there were demons in the demon army. “It’s fantastic! To think there are so many people in the world!” Evelyn glanced back to her brothers, both of whom were looking out towards the hill with identical looks of absolute awe. Even Sparda looked shocked. Ahearn was looking at Evelyn with further levels of disgust, however.
"So many people in the world: so many mouths to feed, so many bodies to protect. So many lives to mourn.” He muttered.
“That’s not true!” Evelyn spouted. “Anyone could change the world. So many people, so many ideas. You can’t be so hopeless when you have all that hope right there on your doorstep!”
“You really believe that, even having seen your home utterly destroyed by his type? I thought you were clever, Miss Evelyn. Surely you must see that a larger Stronghold is only a larger target?”

“If I may, Ahearn, I don’t think that’s true.” Sparda interrupted. Ahearn opened his mouth, clearly to cut him off, but he ploughed on regardless. “Even Mundus worries over the location of this Stronghold, and if he does find it, he will second-guess his attack. There are few things that can make him feel fear, but the sheer scale of this place will. That’s an impressive feat, and should give you more hope than perhaps anything else you can do.” Now it was Ahearn that was looking on in disbelief, his light wrinkles shifting across his skin. It didn’t last long, before his scowl firmly reasserted itself.
“I can’t trust a word a DEMON says.” He growled. “Come on, we can’t stand gawking all day.” He turned sharply, trudging towards his home.
“He’s just jealous that a demon and a girl won the argument.” Sam whispered perhaps a little too loudly. Still, he had a point, and Evelyn couldn’t help but smile a little. From the looks of it, a couple of the soldiers agreed with her.
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Ahearn was furious. It wasn’t that he had lost an argument to a demon and girl who couldn’t be older than 16. That was ridiculous. He was furious because he couldn’t believe that a demon and a girl who had seen her whole life destroyed before her were still so delusional. And he wasn’t a pessimistic bastard, no matter what the others said, he was realistic. Demons were a formidable, terrifying and powerful enemy who wanted nothing than to destroy everything that mankind was, Ahearn had seen enough of the world to understand that. And to understand that nothing was going to change that, no matter what he did.

He didn’t have much time to brood over the problem that was clearly with these idiots he had picked up, however. Minutes after he and his company had begun to approach the Western Gate of the Stronghold of the Lake, two men in guard’s uniform, easily identifiable by their bright red tunics sewn with chainmail, oval shields and shorter, javelin-like spear. The two guards ran up to them down the hill, before forming a small shield wall in front of them, spears poised. They had been well trained, Ahearn decided, although fear made their javelins shake slightly. Not well trained enough, he would never allow his men to show such obvious weakness.
“Soldiers! Identify yourselves, and explain your – uhm – prisoners.” Ahearn nearly rolled his eyes at that. Perhaps he should suggest a retraining session to the Captain of the Guard, not that he would be listened to, of course. Stuck-up bastard.
“I am Ahearn, Captain of the West Contingent, with the 10 soldiers of the West Contingent. We came across a girl and her twin brothers and claimed tamed demon. They hail from the Stronghold of the Pine Trees, which they also claim to have been destroyed.”
“Bloody hell, Ahearn you can’t –” One of the guards started, before the other jabbed him in the chest and interrupted him.
“Captain, sir. We cannot allow strangers directly into the Stronghold without permission of the Captain of the Guard. Erm – with your permission sir, one of us could accompany you back to the Captain, to gain you, your men and your prisoners permission to enter, while the other remains with your Contingent to guard the prisoners.” Good, he was hoping the guards would have enough common sense to suggest that, although apparently the one on the right more so than the one on the left.
“That’s acceptable, Soldier –” Ahearn hesitated for a just a moment when he realised he hadn’t met this guard before. Or at least spent enough time around him to learn his name.
“John. Soldier John, sir.” Replied the guard, his compatriot looking more than a little lost beside him. Quality in the guards had definitely declined recently, Ahearn decided.

"Soldier John, you will accompany me back to see the Captain of the Guard. You –” Here he pointed to the other guard. He didn’t really need to know his name after all. “will stay here and guard the prisoners. Don’t become a part of the circle, stay outside it and be ready for an ambush-style attack.” His short-spear would be most adept at that kind of a fight, should it come to that. Thankfully, the idiot guard seemed to recognise that at least. “Be careful, that demon is powerful.” He turned then to look at his decidedly relaxed Contingent of men. Ridiculous! They were still in the presence of a demon for goodness sake! Just because they’d all lead sheltered, Lake-side lives didn’t mean they could underestimate a demon that was RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM. “Men!” He all but yelled. “Don’t let that demon move an inch! When I assign you to guard prisoners I expect to come back to find them EXACTLY as I left them. Use your long-spears, remember your formations but don’t get out of your circle unless something especially important happens. Rhys, you’re making the decisions.”
“Yes Sir!” Chorused back all 10 of the men, and Ahearn was pleased to note the grips on their spears had increased a little. It was still awful that they had FORGOTTEN THE PRESENCE OF THE DEMON, but he could only hope he wouldn’t be long away from them. After all, there was no way the Captain of the Guard would allow Evelyn to continue her little fantasy of a tamed demon. Ahearn only wished he had the authority to kill the demon himself and be done with it.
“Right then, Soldier John, shall we go?” Soldier John nodded beside him, and together the two of them began making their way up towards the Stronghold.

Chapter Text

It felt good to pass through the Western Gate into the Stronghold again. Ahearn had only left that morning, yes, but it had felt like too long since he had been home. He supposed it was too long since he had been home, this wasn’t his home. He couldn’t allow himself to come complacent.

It was a short walk from the gate to the home of the Captain of the Guard. Ahearn supposed it was luck, the Captain living so close to the Western Gate, although just this once he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Ahearn didn’t like to think of himself as a coward, he wouldn’t allow himself to even entertain a single cowardly thought, but he was nervous about broaching this subject with the Captain. While they were in theory the same rank, both Captains after all, everyone was well aware the Captain of the Guard was second only to the General himself, and the last thing Ahearn wanted to do was alienate him.

He wasn’t a political soldier, he was about as from it as possible, but when the time came he needed to be on good terms with all the ambaxtoi*, especially those above him. And perhaps ‘when the time came’ was fast approaching. AND Ahearn couldn’t think of many things more alienating than asking the Captain of the Guard, the man in charge of ensuring the safety of the last great Stronghold, to allow a demon to waltz in through his doors. A powerful demon, judging by that thing’s speech capabilities, and those floating, glowing swords it had used. Gods, this was going to be an interesting experience.

Ahearn could count on one hand the number of times he’d been into the Captain of the Guard’s house. He wasn’t close with the man, although they could work together Ahearn was never fond of the Captain’s casual manner, and constantly felt belittled by his higher noble status, even if the Captain himself was incredibly blasé about his family. Regardless, Ahearn prided himself on having a working relationship with every ambaxtor in the army. Still, he had only ever met him within the barracks, most often during meetings between the Captains of Protection, and only ever discussed the war with him. Perhaps he should’ve tried to build more than a working relationship with the other ambaxtoi. Now that ‘when the times comes’ has come crashing down upon him, Ahearn was beginning to realise it’s not going to be enough.

The house itself was large, almost unneedfully so but the Captain was one of the three most important people in the Stronghold, if not the whole world. It had two rooms, both with fires, and a roof so high Ahearn only had to duck a little to enter in, and could stand fully once inside. There was no firepit in this room, that was probably in the other room of the house, and so it was thankfully smoke free, allowing Ahearn to see all four walls of the room at once.

One was covered in a series of shelves, roughly hewn planks of wood lashed together with twine that are near-identical to the shelves in Ahearn’s own house, and a collection of spears and sling-shots were arranged upon them. Of course, Ahearn knew that the Captain was highly versatile with his weapons, but to be so obviously shown it is quite a statement.

The other walls were covered in the spidery scrawl he recognises from the Captain, and a series of maps. The Captain had used the uneven walls of the round house to his advantage, using the wattle-and-daub’s bulges and crevices to stand as the hills and ditches of the Stronghold’s different defences. While Ahearn wasn’t the best reader in the world, the fact he’d been able to learn anything with his childhood was something of a point of pride for him, despite his own noble family. Regardless, he could make out enough of the Captain’s chaotic script to recognise the names of the 16 Guards of the Stronghold, with enough labels and arrows going to and from the writing and the maps to make Ahearn’s head spin. It left the soldier in no doubt of his superior’s commitment to his battle, and did absolutely nothing to allay his fears.

It was as he was thinking this that the Captain himself entered from the other room. He was an older man, hair greying and thinning upon his otherwise shining bald head. Smile lines creased his face in a dignified manner, and softened his otherwise intense grey-blue eyes. His guard’s red tunic fit snugly against his form, however, showing the world that despite being the oldest member of the army, he was muscled enough to not go down without a fight. At his side hung an ambaxtor's sword, although he carried no other weapons and his sword was not as well kept as Ahearn’s.

Regardless, upon pure instinct, Ahearn stood to attention and saluted, Soldier John moving identically beside him.
“At ease, at ease.” Murmured the Captain, waving a wrinkled but thick hand casually at the two soldiers. Ahearn bristled immediately, the Captain of the Guard’s informality irritating him yet again. “Soldier John, I thought you were posted to the Western Gate this week.” The Captain continued, glancing between the soldiers and his wall-maps. “And if I’m not mistaken, aren’t you Captain Ahearn, of the Western Contingent?”
“Yes Captain of the Guard, Sir!” Replied Ahearn quickly.
“Please, call me Captain Sloane. All the guards do, there’s no reason you should do differently Captain Ahearn.”
“Yes Sir!”
“So, Soldier, Captain, why have you come here in the middle of the afternoon. Neither of you are ones to shirk your duty and return to the Stronghold before the end of your shift.”

“Captain Sloane!” Began Soldier John before Ahearn could start. It was a little out of line for the young soldier to speak before the captain, although it did mean John would be broaching the subject of demon-at-the-gates before Ahearn, which this particular time he would allow. “While I was on shift this afternoon, the guards of the Western Gate spotted Captain Ahearn and the Western Contingent returning to the Western Gate before the end of their shift. Moreover, they had with them four prisoners: three children and a demon. When Soldier Dylan and I went to apprehend them, Captain Ahearn demanded to see you to gain permission for the soldiers to enter. He claimed they were from the Stronghold of the Pine Trees.” That had got the Captain Sloane’s attention. Ahearn’s heart was racing as he watched shock migrate across his superior’s face. At least he hadn’t had to breech the subject.
“Captain Ahearn!” The older man shouted almost with panic. “What the devil are you doing? Did you bring a demon to the gates of our stronghold?”

“Captain Sloane, sir. I encountered a girl, her two younger brothers and the demon less than 20 minutes away from the Stronghold, and they were walking directly towards it. If I had not intercepted them they would have been on our doorstep. I intended to kill the demon and rescue the children, but the demon was strangely attached to them, and visa versa. The children claimed to have come from the Stronghold of the Pine Trees, which they also claimed to have been destroyed, and I thought it was of utmost importance that any information of the whereabouts of the Demon Army, especially if it is so close to Stronghold of the Lake. When I could not separate the children from the demon, especially when the girl claimed to have tamed the demon to be something of a body guard, I decided it was best to defer to a higher authority, sir. There are also more soldiers to contain the demon should it come to it. Report ends, Captain Sloane.”

The Captain looked decidedly uncomfortable at that. His face had shifted through, shock, anger, and back to shock before finally settling on a deep-set worry.
“I see. You did the right thing, Captain Ahearn. That’s – that’s not an easy situation to find yourself in and I think there was little else you reasonably could have done.” He hesitated there, going to run his hand lightly over his charcoal notes. Ahearn could almost hear the distress and pain leaking from the Captain as he thought. “However, I am not the higher authority you need. Come, Captain Ahearn, we’re going to see the General. Soldier John, see if you can bring the Chieftain in as well, although he’ll probably be busy at this time of day.”
“Yes, sir!” Cried Soldier John, before he turned quickly and left Captain Sloane’s house.

Ahearn followed the foot soldier with his eyes, his mind racing. The General was the one ambaxtor he had never had direct access to before. He was something of a recluse, supposedly it helped him fine-tune his military genius and well, you couldn’t argue with the results. His exploits and battle-plans were famous for their intricacy and wisdom, despite the fact that he didn’t appear to be a noble, his name wasn’t in any curated lists of noble families held in Lake. Perhaps they had been born after the trade routes fell with at the beginning of the Demon Army’s invasion, although he looked older than that. Not that Ahearn had ever seen him up close.

“I would be honoured to meet the General, Captain Sloane.” Ahearn said, not at all able to keep the excitement from his voice.
“Don’t look so excited, Captain Ahearn.” The Captain of the Guard replied, he was busily going about the room grabbing parts of his uniform. Ahearn understood, the official iron greaves did have a tendency to pinch if they weren’t padded properly. Apparently even the Captain of the Guard had to look in tip-top condition, however, when seeing the General. “He barely ever talks to anyone, I’m almost certain I only see him because he has to talk to someone in the outside world. Most likely, you’ll wait outside his room while I relay messages. Again.”
“Of course, sir.” Ahearn still couldn’t quite shove down his butterflies as the now-resplendent Captain of the Guard strode from his home in what looked like a state of carefully controlled panic.
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Evelyn was well and truly bored. Part of her was delighted at this, when was the last time she had felt bored? Even before her home burnt, it wasn’t like her life had been easy since…well for a while anyway. So the novelty to sit in the late autumn, afternoon sun and feel bored was something altogether novel. Evelyn was sure she would’ve enjoyed it more if she wasn’t being stared down by 11 heavily armed soldiers.

She had admitted defeat earlier, and was seated in the tall grass, absentmindedly pulling seeds from its feather-like heads. She had one twin on either side, both of whom were silent, probably exhausted at this point, and Evelyn was well aware of Sparda’s presence towards her back. She didn’t need to turn to know he was glowering for all he was worth at the soldiers.

The soldiers. Evelyn had done very well with them before. She was proud of how she had interceded and successfully negotiated her way closer to safety, and away from murder. However, she could see the exact same situation playing out in front of her again, only this time in slow motion. If Sparda kept trying to intimidate them, even if her only meant it to protect herself, all he would achieve would be scaring them off. Nothing else for it, it was time for a human’s touch. Again. However, Evelyn had an inkling of what she needed to do. After all, she had seen some of the soldiers act almost fondly towards her and her brothers earlier.

Gently shaking the twins, she was greeted with two slightly blurry sets of eyes.
“Sis? You ok?” One asked, as the other rubbed his eyes.
“Absolutely!” Evelyn replied in a manner that even she was prepared to admit was overly chipper. “I was just thinking we could have a good game of ‘The Druid’s Cat’. You boys remember how to play that, right?”
“Of course I - ” Began probably Robert, before Sam cut him off.
“No sis.” He said, all innocent eyes. Yes that was definitely Sam, he could always read people, almost scarily so. “Remind me, how do you play ‘The Druid’s Cat’?”
“It’s a memory game.” Evelyn replied, making sure her voice was loud enough for even the soldiers behind her to hear. Robert winced at her volume, before his eyes widened with understanding. “You have to remember what words have already been used to describe the Druid’s cat. For example, I might say, ‘The Druid’s cat is a fluffy cat’, then Sam would say, ‘The Druid’s cat is a fluffy, stripey cat’, then Robert would say ‘The Druid’s cat is a fluffy, stripey, friendly cat’, and so on. Understand?” Both boys nodded dutifully, making Evelyn burst into a smile. She glanced up at the soldiers, who predictably were all staring at her. “Gosh! Would any of you men want to join in?” She asked, acting all surprised.
“As if we’d want to fraternise with demon-worshipers.” One growled back immediately. Well, there goes that plan.
“I’d like to play. And ask a few questions too, if I can.” Said another almost at the same instant. Success! That was all Evelyn needed.
“Of course you can!” She replied, all smiles. “What’s your name, and ask away!”
“I’m Soldier Callum.”
“My name’s Soldier Owen.” Said another. “Can I ask something as well?”
“Absolutely!” Evelyn smiled. Clearly, she was just genius when it came to plans.

Chapter Text

Ahearn couldn’t quite believe it, but the General had two homes. Or he did according to Captain Sloane. One was in the stronghold somewhere, whereas the other was within the barracks itself. To ensure he’s always watching, Captain Sloane muttered to himself. For his part, Ahearn genuinely couldn’t tell if the Captain’s stress-talking-to-himself was showing he and the General were close enough to tease each other, or genuinely hated each other. He really hoped it was the former.

When they actually arrived at the General’s barrack home, Captain Sloane instructed him to wait outside. The door into the General’s home opened and closed quickly, giving Ahearn little more than a glance before he was left alone. It was doing nothing for his nerves. The General had a fierce reputation. Eccentric, reclusive, genius. It was in large part his leadership that inspired the people who escaped the Demon Army to keep going. Go to him, he’s clever enough, he knows how to defeat the demons.

That was why increasing numbers of refugees had fled to Stronghold of the Lake. Just like Evelyn and her pet demon, he supposed. Apart from the part-rumours, part-legends, Ahearn knew little of the General himself. Possibly a commoner, possibly a noble. A refugee himself, supposedly from the very first Stronghold to be burnt, or perhaps even from the lands across the seas. Ahearn had heard the rumours about the lands across the sea, of course. Lands that had been filled with people but the Demon Army had swept through, leaving it desolate. That Albion was the last place with any humans left. Ahearn tried to keep himself above such rumours, although he had never personally met a refugee from one of these other lands. It hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things, no-one was going to be Albion’s saving grace except their own blood, and shying away from that would only ever be harmful.

All this thinking time was not helping at all with Ahearn’s nerves. Already, the sun was entering the last of it’s arc, the very edges of the sky beginning to be stained from crystalline blue to a warm lemon. Goodness, he hadn’t expected Captain Sloane and the General to spend this long discussing the demon, he had hoped the General would see sense and just order the death of the demon, although it was looking less and less likely the more the sun slid towards the horizon, like a wicked child towards his room. Whatever were they talking about in there? Ahearn had half a mind to try and listen in to what they were discussing, but he knew far too well what a breach of military duty and personal pride that would be. There was nothing for it, he was going to have to wait for the pair to be done. Ahearn just really wished it wasn’t so. He was getting more and more anxious by the second. It was almost ironic, really. He was someone who had faced down countless demons, fled more burning homes than he cared or wished to remember, and yet here he was getting all worked up over two old men having a discussion without him. He would’ve laughed if it wasn’t so damn nerve wracking.
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It felt like hours later that Captain Sloane finally shifted opened the door to the General’s home. Ahearn shifted quickly to attention, all his nerves cresting like an army at march in his stomach as his eyes became glued to the door. It opened again, creaking slightly as it opened, causing Sloane’s shadow to shift across its surface in the evening sunlight. Out from it stepped a slighter figure than Ahearn was expecting.

The General was slim and short, but wiry as steel with deep tanned skin. Sharp eyes gazed at and right through Ahearn, unsettling him with their steely, grey gaze. It left the Captain instantly in no doubt about who exactly was in charge and why. The General’s hair was longer than was proper for a soldier, straight and wispy it floated around his head like a loose halo. His posture and perceptive, all-encompassing gaze suggested he was young, although his hair had only a few remaining strands of black among the washed-out grey, and his skin was wrinkled and withered, prematurely aging him even past Captain Sloane.

He was wearing a soldier’s blue tunic, although Ahearn hadn’t known there was as much gold thread in the world as adorned its edges and wound in curling trails through the material. On one side hung an ambaxtor's sword, although once glance and Ahearn could tell it had never been used in anger, and probably not even unsheathed half a dozen times. Interesting.

“Captain Ahearn.” The General said, his eyes only resting on Ahearn’s for a moment before leaping away again. “I am told you and your men encountered a supposedly tame demon, and a girl with important information.” His voice was higher than Ahearn had expected, although carried the same unyielding steel that governed the rest of him, and was aged with a slight rasp just the same as his skin. “Yes sir!” Ahearn replied, trying, and failing, to drag his eyes back towards the General’s searching gaze.

“I see. Captain Sloane, go find two contingents of men and meet me by the Western Gate. Captain Ahearn, follow me. I want to know everything you’ve learnt about this demon.”
“Yes sir!” The two Captains chorused, and they didn’t even get a chance to exchange a glance before the General was off, stalking briskly across the barracks. With a start, Ahearn fell into step behind him, walking several paces too quickly to be comfortable, as Captain Sloane walked away towards two curiously watching soldier. There were several dotted about the barracks watching, although Ahearn was certain in about 3 minutes they were all going to regret their curiosity.

The General was fast for his wizened face, all the time quizzing Ahearn over how exactly he had come across the people that had caused such a ruckus, but was not even the slightest out of breath as he near-ran across the Stronghold. By the time they arrived at the Western Gate, Captain Sloane was nowhere to be seen. Honestly, there was no way he was going to find two free contingents and march them over to the Gate before they arrived there, especially at the speed that seemed to be the General’s natural pace.

The two remaining guards of the gate hastily stood to attention as they saw the General approaching, each exchanging uneasy glances. In many ways, Ahearn felt a little pity for them. This much disruption, with the General involved, could probably only mean one thing, and no-one wanted that, even if it was inevitable. The General continued throwing questions at Ahearn as they waited, clearly becoming more and more dissatisfied with his answers. Honestly, Ahearn had seen the blasted demon for maybe an hour total, how was he supposed to know how many toes it had?

Thankfully, he was saved from this embarrassment by the return of Captain Sloane, a lot quicker than Ahearn had truly expected, flanked by two Captains Ahearn didn’t recognise. Both were in blue, so were a part of the main army, which explained why Ahearn hadn’t bothered to learn their names, although at a cursory glance they seemed upstanding and serious enough. 60 men followed the three ambaxtoi in four columns, resplendent in the main army’s blue tunics, each had a kite-shaped shield in one hand, a long-spear in the other, and an axe at his belt, their iron helmets glinted in the early evening sun. There was only pride that Ahearn could feel gazing upon them. They were going to pummel that damned demon into the ground.

“Men.” The General addressed the soldiers, his eyes blazing with an emotion Ahearn couldn’t quite place. “We are going to be approaching a possibly hostile demon. I want everyone aware and quick to take orders. Captains, keep your men in an offensive position towards the demon until I say so. I will be in charge here, so I expect to be protected, but do not obstruct me in any manner. Alright, follow me, you two, with me.” He barked, pointing sharply at Captain Sloane and Ahearn, before turning sharply on his heel and starting out through the open gate. Ahearn glanced, perplexed, at Captain Sloane, before following swiftly after the General. By the looks of it, the Captain of the Guard was more than used to the General’s harsh and borderline contradictory collection of orders. Behind him, he could hear the other two Captains hastily giving the two contingents orders, and from the sound of it they weren’t too badly improvising. He hated to admit it, but he did feel a touch of jealousy at how easily these two Captains dealt with the eclectic orders.
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Sparda was having a lot of, well, he supposed he was having fun. Of course, he had as much experience with the emotion as Evelyn did with leading armies, but he was almost certain that bright, buoyant joy he felt, and the laugh that kept bubbling out of him as if it had a life of its own was because he was having fun. Contrary to the standoffish and war-mongering attitude of their commanding officer, the men were, as Evelyn had described them, wonderful people.

Naturally, they had asked a slew of questions after Evelyn had, masterfully he must admit, broken down the walls between them. As it turned out, most of them had grown up within the walls of this Stronghold, and had never even seen a demon before, much less talked to one, so naturally all of them were more than curious about him. The other two, Sparda felt so much guilt when they bit out that their homes had burned because of his kind. He had even overseen the destruction of one of them, although he didn’t tell the soldier that. In time though, even they had asked questions of the Demon Lord, and soon enough Sparda had exhausted their questions with answers. He found it almost pleasant. Therapeutic. That was the word. To explain the differences of the world he had abandoned. The world he now knew was fundamentally fractured. To explain why he had left it behind.

After that, Evelyn had come up with a whole wealth of games to play. They were fantastic. The construct of having something purely to have fun, it had quickly become one of Sparda’s favourite things about humanity. The soldiers had gradually become more relaxed, until they had abandoned all semblance of guarding himself and the children, and come to sit beside and among them in the long grass, shields and spears left haphazardly about. As they played their games; Eye-Spy, The Druid’s Cat, 20 Questions; they also talked. Honestly, it was just 21 soldiers, 3 children and a Demon Lord talking with one another. And Sparda loved it. It was fun! He even tried his hand at weaving some grass crowns with three of the soldiers, Matthew, Ben and Henry, under Evelyn’s tutelage, although he found his claws got too much in the way, and instead consented to have done balanced precariously between his horns from Matthew, matching Evelyn, the three weavers and several of the other soldiers. It was fun. Sparda liked having fun.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?!” Yelled a very irate voice from behind Sparda, startling him mid-laugh. The others around him were also shocked, people twisting around and abandoning what they were doing to stare at the offending voice. Marching into their late evening and shattering their fun was what smelt like 60 soldiers. Yes, 60 give or take, bearing down on him and his friends like a hammer to a man’s skull. They smelt like they were bedecked for war, the smell of iron woven through throughout from what smelled like a multitude of spears and shields. They were also in an offensive semi-circle, one that Sparda was unsurprised but disappointed to find was centred on him.

But, the men were heavier around three figures. One smelt distinctly afraid, the second curious and the third was…oh. It was Ahearn, his friends’ commanding officer. Quite the demanding and prejudiced soldier, apparently. Why were the attackers so clearly weighted towards protecting them, though? Sparda wondered.

He didn’t have much time to ponder it, however, since the Captain’s voice rang out again, perhaps even more irate.
“SOLDIER RHYS!” He cried, startling the poor man beside Sparda, and dislodging the grass crown from his head. “EXPLAIN WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.” Around him, the soldiers were springing to their feet and standing to attention, the grass rustling around their feet. Clearly their training was beaten into them enough for that, and Sparda found himself rising to his feet as well, Evelyn and the twins cautiously making their way to stand beside him
“Captain! I – I um…!” Rhys was stumbling, the panic in his scent mirrored in all of the soldiers. This was, Sparda reflected, the perfect opportunity for Evelyn’s human touch again. Although maybe he could be the one to do it this time. Any intention of that was flattened by the livid Ahearn.
“ALL OF YOU! GET AWAY FROM THE ENEMY AND STAND TO ATTENTION RIGHT THIS SECOND! WE ARE IN THE PRESCENCE OF THE GENERAL!”

Oh, interesting. That was why the new soldiers were so intent on protecting the people with the Captain. One of them was the General. Presumably the curious one. Clearly not a good general, Sparda reflected, if they were going to come out with only 60 men to an unknown demon. If he had wanted to, the General would be dead by Sparda’s hand by now.
"Thank you for giving away who I am to the enemy, Captain Ahearn.” Ground out the curious one, now a little irritated, just in front of Ahearn. “Although soldiers of the Western Contingent and guards of the Western Gate, I am curious as to what exactly you are doing with the prisoners.
“General, sir.” Started Rhys, who was something of a natural leader, Sparda had found. “While we were guarding the prisoners, we took the liberty of gaining some intelligence, and we found Sparda, uhm he’s the demon, to be very intelligent and kind, sir. We, err, acted upon our initiative to try and gain an ally in him.” Rhys was near terrified, Sparda noted, and yet his voice hardly trembled. It was impressive
“PROPOSTEROUS!” Ahearn shouted, his ire only raising. “General, clearly the demon has placed them under some kind of mind control."
“Thank you, Ahearn.” The General muttered. Sparda smelt the third person grab the Captain by his arm and whisper in his ear ‘just shut up, man’. “However, I unfortunately find myself agreeing with you. One afternoon is not enough time for 21 men to become friends with a demon and three children. There has to be some sort of demonic power going on here.”
“If I may, General –” Sparda started, as gently as he could, although he realised his natural reverberation really worked against his softness.
“SILENCE!” The General barked, the soldiers around him moving as one towards him and his friends, spears poised. “I will NOT have you pollute my ears.”
“Please, General!” Rhys tried again. “He’s not a monster! He can help us, I’m certain of it!”
“Men!” Ordered the General. “On my command charge and kill everyone before me. Even the children.”

Oh fuck. This was not good. He could smell Evelyn, as petrified as she had been when he had met her, clinging to his legs. His soldier friends were panicking and the new soldiers were scared and disbelieving.
“General! Listen to me, please! I’m a child!” Evelyn screamed, but her voice was lost in the clamour of the other men’s voices.

Sparda was about to add his own when he heard a familiar screeching behind him. He turned, spooking the people near him, taking great gusts of air in through his nose. Shit! He should’ve noticed them earlier! Coming towards them was a squadron of flambats, probably a scouting party. 30 in total. Fuck, this was not going to help negotiations, when they were already at each others throats.
“EVERYONE, PREPARE YOURSELVES!” Sparda roared, projecting his voice over the cacophony of voices as he summoned Devil Sword Sparda. “WE ARE ABOUT TO BE UNDER ATTACK!”

Chapter Text

Of all the ways today could of have gone, this was probably the bottom of Soldier Joseph’s list. He really really didn’t want to be here. In fact, Joseph would probably prefer to be just about anywhere other than here right now.

His day hadn’t even been that bad up until this point. His contingent had patrolled the embankments twice, once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and he had just been preparing for evening in his barrack when he and the rest of his contingent had been dragged out by their Captain, supposedly for a ‘special mission for the General’. Joseph hadn’t believed it at first, but sure enough he had followed his Captain, alongside another contingent he vaguely knew, and the Captain of the Guard, who almost never got involved with the regular army, to the General.

Yep, the actual General was right there in front of him. Right there giving him and his comrades orders. Right there, giving them orders to leave the embankments, and engage a possibly hostile demon. And it only got worse from there. ENOURMOUS and very scary demon, mind control apparently, and now this. He was fighting for his life against this massive, fire-spewing bat thing. Sometimes, Joseph really hated his life.

All around him, battle was raging. Sure, it had gone alright at the start. The General had managed to bark out some orders at them which, for the most part, had kept him and the other foot soldiers in groups large enough to take down the firey-bat-things, several spears impaled on them and they exploded. Only, somewhere along the lines, Joseph had managed to become separated; one spear and an axe was not cutting it one-on-one. Bloody hell, Joseph was terrified. His shield had been melted by one spinning attack from the flaming thing, and Joseph was convinced it was about to do it again.

Oh Gods, Joseph was about to die. This was it. Joseph held his spear in one last, desperate attempt as he swung wildly at the creature, yelling in terror. The creature dove at him out of the air and Joseph prepared for the worst.

At the last moment, a huge form appeared in front of him, knocking him to the ground away from the monster and taking the attack onto itself. The attack severed right through its arm, right at the shoulder, and Joseph watched almost in slow-motion as the detached limb fell to the ground, blood spurting from the exposed joint. Joseph stared at the arm as it fell, not even noticing the bat-creature die. The figure, silhouetted against the yellow-red evening sky, turned, a deep, bestial growl ripping itself out of it, as it grabbed a humongous, sword-like fleshy thing from its severed hand, swinging it up and into another bat-monster.
“Gods. You saved me.” Joseph whispered, awe-struck.
“On your feet.” The figure snarled in reply, Joseph finally recognising it as the demon he had come here to kill. “You have a weapon, use it.”
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“EVERYONE, PREPARE YOURSELVES!” Sparda roared, projecting his voice over the cacophony of voices as he summoned Devil Sword Sparda. “WE ARE ABOUT TO BE UNDER ATTACK!” Silence hung for a moment around him before, to his surprise, the General began barking orders not only at his own men but the human soldiers he had been about to slaughter. He was fast, Sparda had to admit, the soldiers coming together more organised than he had expected.

“Evelyn.” Sparda warned, keeping her out of the way of the quickly moving soldiers. “Take the twins, stay down and don’t attract attention. Flambats are stupid, if they don’t notice you they won’t attack you.” Evelyn nodded, grabbing both of the twins and pulling them away from the soldiers, diving down and hiding them remarkably well in the long grass.

Right, now to draw the fire. Sparda was much more equipped than the soldiers to fight the flambats, even if there were only 30 of them. “Hey idiots.” He growled at them in Demonic, startling a couple of soldiers that were near him. “Come get a real challenge.” Of course they fell for it. Flambats are many things, but intelligent is most definitely not one of them. Damn, a few still went to attack the soldiers, although by the looks of it the General’s orders were making short work of them. Still, the vast majority descended on Sparda, screeching insults back at him in their own, fragmentary Demonic.

But oh boy was this fun too! Devil Sword Sparda flew like an extension of himself, cutting through 1, 2, 3, 4 simultaneously. Out into a scythe to clip one that exploded, the return back into a sword taking another to its grave. There! To his left, a Summoned Sword straight through an enemy, a claw slicing open one to his right while also thrusting his sword up above him to take out another. It was a pleasure, and as the flaming blood cascaded from the sky to sizzle against Sparda’s armour-like skin, a feral grin lit up his face. Another. And another. And another. Nothing would escape his touch. His blood ran riot throughout him in ecstasy, his only purpose was to rip, and tear, and maim and most of all to kill.

Sparda was so caught up in the joy of the blood on him and through him, he almost didn’t notice the smell, away to his left. It was the faint but undeniable scent of an inevitable death. Just about to happen. He finished off another flambat and turned, his nose still racing to process. There, one soldier had become separated, facing a flambat alone. His shield lay useless on the floor beside him, still enrobed in flames, and the way the human was waggling his spear was not going to do anything. Sparda thought quickly, his mind turning through a million possibilities. He could kill the flambat no problem. A Summoned Sword, throwing Devil Sword Sparda, even flying over there would get rid of the thing. But the attack was still going to land, and that would kill the human.

Damnit! No other option.

In one swift motion, Sparda leapt. His wings gave two swift beats, their low hum filling the battlefield for just a moment. He landed, right in front of the soldier, his sword thrust up into the creature, ending it quickly. Sparda braced himself as it’s attack continued even after the death of the owner. It shouldn’t be a problem, it was only a flambat after all.

ARGH! GODS FUCKING BLOODY HELL! FUUCK! SHITING FUCK THAT HURT! What the fuck happened?!? WHAT?!? Holy fountains of Hell his arm was off. Son of a bitch! His arm was off. Fucking Hell that was painful. How?!? How in the Seven Dominions of Hell had a goddamn flambat done that?!? GODDAMNIT there had been a fault in his pauldron. He could smell it as half of it lay on the ground in front of him, a huge great hole in the armour, already disappearing under the stench of his own blood. THERE WAS A MASSIVE FUCKING HOLE IN HIS ARMOUR. FUCKING JOBBERNOWL.

Think on the bright-side, Sparda, at least it was in a skirmish not during a battle. Blast it all! The General was bound to notice his bloody arm was off though. GODDAMNIT. And it was his sword arm. Of course it was. He leant over, grabbing his sword out of what had moments ago been his hand, swinging Devil Sword Sparda up and into another flambat. It was a lot less fun when one FUCKING ARM was missing.
“Gods. You saved me.” Whispered the soldier, reminding Sparda of why exactly his arm was currently on the floor. It was worth it, he supposed.
“On your feet. You have a weapon, use it.” He growled. Just because he had saved a man’s life, didn’t mean the stump of his arm wasn’t fucking painful. The soldier nodded in reply, scrambling to his feet and clutching his spear to his chest.

Sparda turned and surveyed the skirmish. There were only two flambats left. Scratch that, there was one flambat left, one just having been impaled on 5 separate spears, and the other was being hounded by around 15 soldiers. Typical, just typical. Growling to himself, Sparda de-summoned Devil Sword Sparda and picked up his arm off the floor, slinging it over his shoulder. It’d take a good 15 minutes to reattach, this time without the massive air bubble in his armour. At least the socket had stopped pouring quite so much blood everywhere, although the nearby grass was already starting to smell dead under what Sparda knew was experience was a black, oil slick-like substance. What a pain in the ass; it hurt to loose and arm Goddamnit.

More important than that though, where was Evelyn? Her hiding spot had smelt good, but Sparda wanted to ensure first and foremost she was safe.
“Evelyn? Evelyn?” He called out softly, trying not to attract attention.
“Sparda! We’re ok!” Her voice whispered back. A quick gulp of air informed the dark knight she was still buried in the grass where she had dived, a twin under either arm.
“Stay there Evelyn. The General may still want to kill you. Staying hidden might let you escape.” Sparda heard Evelyn’s breathing hitch, just for a moment.
“Right. Be careful, Sparda. None of us want to come out of this alone.” She whispered, her tone only leaking a tiny amount of fear. She was so brave, he marvelled.

Turning back to the General and the soldiers, Sparda was impressed to hear that he was already barking orders at the soldiers, forming them back up into offensive lines. The General had even separated Sparda’s friends out from the rest of the soldiers, re-instating the hostile environment in a moment. Granted, that was a real nuisance for the Demon Lord, especially now he was missing an arm, but for the General, Sparda could see no better option. Even if he had used the soldiers during the skirmish with the flambats, it did look highly suspicious that they had arrived right when Sparda had been threatened.
“Please General, listen to me.” Rhys was saying, even as the General ignored him. “We just fought with you! We’re not under any kind of spell, we’ve just talked to Sparda. He’s a good person, and I think he could help us defend ourselves against the Demon Army!”
“Enough soldier!” The General demanded, barely controlled panic rolling off of him as his mouth spitting out a near-incoherent stream of words. “I will not hear your bewitched words. I don’t have time for any of this! Who knows how long I have before the rest of the army follows this vanguard. I must get back to the Stronghold, we must be ready for attack. Gods I hadn’t thought our time would be so little.”

“General, if I may, this squadron of flambats is only a scouting party. Granted, it does mean the Demon Army is close, but you already knew that, with the destruction of Pine Trees. It will take several days for their absence to be noticed, maybe even longer than that. And then it will take time for that absence to be correlated with humans in this direction, and then yet more time for the army to march here.” Sparda addressed the human. Honestly, he had expected to be cut off already, but all he could smell from the surrounding humans was a vague smell of disbelief. Silence hung in the air cloaked in the scent for a moment.

“Demon Sparda.” The General said at last. “You are holding your severed arm.” Well that certainly wasn’t what he expected.
“Yes, I sacrificed it to save one of your men.” Might as well frame it in the best light he could, even if this was entirely different to any manipulation Sparda had tried to do before. He almost enjoyed how much humans tore up the rulebook.
“I –”, the General hesitated, just for a moment, “if this is true, step forward whomever was saved.”
“It was me, General.” Called a wavering voice that Sparda recognised as the soldier he had saved.
“Name, soldier!”
“Soldier Joseph, sir!”
“Is it true?”
“Yes sir! One of these fire bats was going to kill me sir, but the demon took the blow for me and it severed his arm. Look, I even have some of his blood on my tunic here. It’s not on fire and it’s not human, so it must be his.”

Disbelief, anger and sympathy rippled through the assorted humans in equal measure.
“Demon I –” the General started, turning away from Joseph. “Thank you for saving the life of one of my men.”
“General, I wish to save every human life I possibly can.” More disbelief came from that. To be expected really. Except from his friends and Evelyn, Sparda noted with a touch of fondness. They just smelt of affection right back at him.
“I suddenly find myself more inclined to believe the soldiers who have been extolling your virtues since I encountered you.”

“Please General, it’s true! Sparda’s an excellent person and he really can help you win the war!” Evelyn’s voice suddenly burst out. She was walking towards them!
“Evelyn! I told you to stay safe!”
“I’m not hiding while I can help you from danger! And before you argue, it’s not like you would do any different!” Evelyn shot back at Sparda. He opened his mouth to rebuke the girl, but was interrupted by the General.

“You two are as close as family. That’s all I need to see.” He said, almost reverently. “Men! Stand down! We’re escorting our guests back to the Stronghold. From the sounds of it, our ally Sparda has quite the knowledge of our opponents.”
“General! You can’t be –”
“CAPTAIN AHEARN! I have had enough of you undermining my instructions today! Return to your men and do not contradict me again!”
“Yes General.” The Captain said, shame and indignation poisoning the air around him as he went to join his contingent in the defensive formation that had formed around Sparda, Evelyn and the twins, the General. Sparda was interested to note that the human that had previously stood with the General was now standing as a commander to the guard from the Western Gate.

“Sparda,” the General addressed him as they walked, “how long do you think we have until the Demon Army is upon us?” There was something off about the General’s scent. Sparda noted. It wasn’t anything wrong, per se, it was just slightly off, although however he wracked his mind he couldn’t place why.
“2 weeks, General. Possibly longer, depending on how competent the commander of those flambats is.” Sparda said. He desperately wanted to scoop the twins into his arms again, they were so afraid and he was aching to reassure them. Curse that faulty armour! The first thing he was doing when he got a free moment was checking over the rest of his skin.
“Indeed? Could you explain why?”

“I happen to recognise those flambats, General. Their own general has recently been disposed of.” In reality, they were his flambats. He recognised demons spawned in his own castle, that’s why it had taken so long for him to notice their approach. Really, they should have recognised him and not attacked, although for once he was glad they were so thick. “ Even if their commander is competent, which I highly doubt sending flambats as reconnaissance – Blood-goyles are much more suited – it will take time of their destruction to trickle up to a General who can then inform Mundus. It will only be at that point that the Demon Army will be mobilised from where they are currently camped. I assume it would take them two days to march the distance between there and here.”
“I see. This missing general, will that upset the workings of the Army’s function?” There was a definite smile in his tone there. Damn! He couldn’t suspect, could he?
“Yes, I believe so. I left with Evelyn soon after his disposal, so I can’t say for certain who replaced him and how competent they are, but he was Mundus’ second-in-command, and for good reason. He was a good fighter and a decent tactician.”
“Fascinating.” Smugness was oozing off the General now. He had definitely worked Sparda out. “And tell me, who is this Mundus?” Oh. That was not what Sparda had been expecting at all.
“Truly? You do not know?”
“No, that’s why I asked.”
“That will take some time to explain, General. Might I reattach my arm first?”
“Of course Sparda, forgive me. And, from one General to another, my name is Cathal. You have my respect, and my permission to use it.” It was only then that Sparda noticed they had reached the gates of the Stronghold. “Welcome to the Stronghold of the Lake.”

Chapter Text

Sparda was curious about the inside of the Stronghold, there was no point in lying about that. He had been looking at it now, unable to go in, for the past few hours, which was bound to make anyone curious. More than that, however, this place was the most hated human settlement the Demon Army had ever come across. This human civilisation was not the most impressive the Demon Army had ravaged, not by a long shot.

Its Strongholds were earthen ramparts and wooden structures which paled in comparison to the mighty stone temples and cities of Egypt or Greece. The Demon Army had rampaged across the human world, and Sparda himself had seen the things mankind could do. He had seen the cities of China; the stupas of Deccan India; the endless columns of Parthian-Persia; the stele of Axum; the pyramids of the Mayans; the enormous drawings of the Nazca. Beside this the rough structures of Albion seemed positively disappointing.

And yet, every single one of those mighty civilisations had collapsed so quickly under Mundus’ fist. Cities burnt, stupas crumbled, columns collapsed, stele toppled, pyramids eroded. Even the Nazca lines had been scrubbed from their desert. Not so Albion. This place which barely even scraped by as a civilisation had managed to resist the Demon Army. While demons had always harassed and raided mankind, the full-on genocide had only started 30 years ago.

It should’ve been fast, and it had been up until 5 years ago, when they had made landfall in Albion. This place was tricky, it twisted away from the Demon Army, constantly retreating so Mundus could never actually say these people had been vanquished. Like a hedgehog it hid its head, its leaders, time and again and evaded Mundus. Sparda himself searched for this place for so long, with the head of the last of humans safe inside. The only thing which bothered Mundus more than the location of this Stronghold was the Isle of Fortuna, and Sparda was among the half of the army that didn’t even believe it was real. Of course he was burning with curiosity.

The guards of the gate, two of them, smelt more than uneasy. Still, they didn’t protest as General Cathal ordered the opening of the gates, and ushered the Demon Lord through. Sparda was greeted with place not unlike any of the other Strongholds of Albion, only bigger. Squat, round mud houses with straw rooves, clustered together and joined by rough, beaten earth roads. Horses and dogs were peppered throughout, as well as farm animals, trees and, from the smell of it, crop farms away to the right. The only difference to the other Strongholds Sparda had laid waste to was the splashes of rectangular buildings. Usually, in Albion, rectangular buildings were only for the Chieftain and sometimes the druid, the most powerful members of their society. Here, there were several clusters of them, although Sparda couldn’t imagine what they would be used for.
“Men!” Cathal called from beside him, addressing the soldiers that were still gathered around them. “Return to the barracks, you will not be needed again tonight. All dismissed except Captain Ahearn.”

The soldiers melted away into what smelt like groups of 30, except the 10 of Sparda’s friends, and all began trooping away into the Stronghold. Sparda was interested to note, however, that the single guard, Dylan, peeled off to join the guards over the gate, and his still-unidentified commander was pulled aside by two humans who appeared to have been waiting for him just within the gate.0
“Now, Captain Ahearn.” Cathal began, displeasure practically leaking from him. “I wish to discuss with you –”
“General!” A voice interrupted, the still-unidentified commander. He was standing flanked by the two humans. “I think you have more pressing matters right now!”
“Captain Sloane.” Cathal growled, turning swiftly to face him. At least Sparda knew who he was. “Why are you interrupting me?”
“It’s the Chieftain, sir. He wants to speak to you about the – uhm – about Sparda.” Shock and displeasure rippled off of Cathal in equal measures.
“Right. Thank you. Captain of the Guard and Guard, dismissed. Ahearn and Sparda – oh right – and children, with me.” Cathal pointed roughly in the direction of each person he addressed, before walking over towards the who must’ve been the Chieftan of this Stronghold. Ahearn followed eagerly after Cathal, perhaps he thought he was in for promotion, although to Sparda it seemed that the General was frustrated with the Captain. The General and the Chieftain began to talk, leaving Ahearn to stand like a statue beside them. It was almost funny.

“Sparda?” Evelyn murmured, looking up at him. “What’s going on? I don’t understand. What’s going to happen next?”
“Evelyn, you have nothing to worry about. It’s because of you that we’re all safe. You heard Cathal, he was persuaded to help us because of your bravery. Right now, the General wants to talk to me about the war, and then he’s going to help you. You said this was where you were heading towards. What do you want to happen next?”
“I – uh – I don’t know. Honestly, I never really thought this far ahead.”
"Sis!” One twins gasped.
“I know, Robert.” Evelyn replied, holding him close in a hug. “But it’s true. I only wanted to come here because Mum said I should before she died. I – I was so focused on staying alive I didn’t even think about what comes next.”
“Sis, it’s ok.” The other twins, Sam, said, joining the group hug. “I don’t care what happens, as long as I’m with you and Robert.”
“Me too!” Declared Robert. Evelyn laughed then, roughly but full of joy.
“You two are quite right. It doesn’t matter what happens, as long as family sticks together. Isn’t that right, Sparda?”
“Naturally. I’m sure the three of you can find somewhere nice to live here together.”
“No, idiot!” Evelyn giggled. “We’re family too! We’re gonna stay as a four.” HUH?!? Sparda almost chocked.
“Evelyn, I really don’t think that’s wise –”
“Evelyn’s right!” Sam started. “We’re gonna need someone to look after us, and I want it to be you.” “Yeah!” Chimed in Robert. “I want to live with Sparda!” Now Sparda was choking for an entirely different reason.
“I – I’d like that too.” He gasped out through emotion that he couldn’t quite explain. “But I can’t. I’m sorry but I’ve got to be a soldier. There are still demons out there, and I have to fight them, to stop them.”
“Then we’ll come with you!” Evelyn declared, startling Sparda.
“Yeah!” Agreed the twins.
“Evelyn, you can’t. It’ll be dangerous, you could get hurt.”
“Says the guy holding his own arm.”
“That’s different, Evelyn. I can heal, you can’t.”
“Then we’ll be careful. It’s our decision, Sparda. You can’t stop us.”
“I…I suppose I can’t. And I would like to live alongside you. It will be very dangerous, and most likely you will see things that you do not find pleasant.”
“Sparda, we know that.” Evelyn said, and in the rapidly darkening light he could see the fire in her eyes like the resounding of a bell. “We’ve seen enough to know that we’re staying as a family, and I’m not going to let anything come between that.” Suddenly Sparda felt a soft arm on his still attached one and was pulled into the group hug. It felt wonderful, love and affection bursting out of everyone.

“Sparda. If you’re quite ready.” Cathal’s voice interrupted from behind their family bundle. Damn it. He really didn’t want to move back to wars and soldiers so soon, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.
“Of course, General.” Sparda grumbled, giving the three children one last squeeze before turning and rising to face Cathal in a fluid movement. Thankfully, with the sun now slipping below the horizon, Sparda could actually see the humans for the first time. Just behind the General stood the Chieftain. He was, to all intents and purposes, an average middle-aged man, receding hairline and advancing weight, intelligent brown eyes sat in a slightly puffed, red-tinged face. He was wearing a grand tunic, laced with gold and overlayed by a bright blue pallium.

“Greetings Sparda, honoured guest and ally of mankind.” The Chieftain crowed, sweeping into a bow before him. “I am Chieftain Arlynn of this Stronghold of the Lake. I welcome you.” It was all a little, much, to be perfectly honest, but Sparda’s political autopilot took over before he had really thought about what he was doing.
“I am honoured to be here before you, Chieftain.” He replied, moving into a similar bow. “Our alliance will be long and favourable.” Arlynn was clearly more than a little surprised by this and gulp, audibly, before continuing as if nothing had happened.
“Likewise do I. However, you and I will not perhaps interact as often as you may suppose. General Cathal takes charge of all military engagements and management, whereas I rule and oversee all civilians, merchants and farmers within this Stronghold.” Sparda opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by General Cathal.
“If you two are quite done playing politics.” He growled. “We have actual matters to attend to, and I would prefer that it did not go too late into the night.”
“Ah, of course, General.” Arlynn looked more than a little shamefaced at this.
“Come, we will discuss within my quarters in the barracks. I have maps and notes there that can help us plan what happens next.”

Cathal’s quarters turned out to be a large room within one of the clusters of rectangular buildings which, judging by the multitude of soldiers and weapons surrounding them, were barracks for the human army. As the group arrived, a quick glare from Cathal to Ahearn was all he needed to relegate him to standing outside the room.
“I would appreciate it if the children were also not to take part in this discussion. I will likely be long and boring. Wouldn’t they prefer to sleep?” Cathal said to Sparda, casting dirty looks at Evelyn and the twins who were standing beside him.
“We’re staying with Sparda.” Evelyn replied resolutely, sending back an equally intimidating glare, which Cathal, to his credit, did nothing but sigh to.
“General!” Ahearn gaped. “You can’t allow chil-”
“CAPTAIN AHEARN. My patience is growing thin with you!”
“Yes general.” The Captain replied as the group filed into the General’s quarters.

The room was made of the same wattle-and-daub all buildings in Albion were fashioned from, and hung with parchment maps that detailed much of Albion, both of areas Sparda recognised and places he was had no idea existed. There were also rolls of parchment piled all over the room, especially around a single table and chair, upon which were frantic scribbles of charcoal. A quick glance at them confirmed that this was yet another writing system mankind had devised. Quite frankly is was ridiculous enough that so many cliques of mankind had created their own languages, let alone the creation separate writing systems for every single one. The only part of the walls that wasn’t covered with maps was one open, cavern-like door, that presumably lead to more intimate areas. Honestly, it was a little strange to be entering a human settlement without it in someway being on fire.

"Sparda I must ask.” Arlynn, who was first through the door, asked, turning to face the demon lord as he entered. “Your isn’t normally detached is it?”
“No, Chieftain. I lost it defending one of your soldiers earlier today. But I am holding the stump to the socket at the moment as it heals. It should be re-attached by tomorrow morning at the latest. I just need to be careful.”

“Gentlemen, if I may interrupt” Cathal addressed the group. “Sparda has informed us that the demon army is likely to be upon our doors in around 2 weeks.” Arlynn visibly stiffened at that, his slightly flushed face draining of all colour. “First, I wish to know our enemy. Sparda, if you will, please describe to us the make up, organisation of the demon army.”
“With all due respect, General, the demon army is highly complicated and will take some time to properly describe. There are many species and sub-species of demon, all of whom have been called to Mundus’ army.”
“Very well. I shall ask Captain Ahearn to bring us some torches. It will likely be fully dark by the time this is finished.”
“I think Sparda’s Summoned Swords would be a better option.” Evelyn piped up from where she had seated herself in the corner, alongside the twins. “They’re less flammable.” A raised eyebrow from General Cathal was all Sparda needed to demonstrate, summoning several spikes of light around the room. Instantly his own sight suffered for it, but he supposed it was more necessary for the humans present.

Arlynn looked downright upset at Sparda’s display of power, but Cathal was gingerly touching the sword above him.
“Fascinating. What a wonderful construct.” He murmured, before he shook himself, turning to face the Demon Lord once again. “Continue, Sparda.” Now that it came down to it, Sparda wasn’t exactly certain how to explain the Demon Army. It was such a familiar concept to him, and he wasn’t sure how exactly he should address it.
“The Demon Army is not, exactly, a unified force. Not in the way that your human army seems to function. It is a collection of independent armies all forced to serve one Emperor. Emperor Mundus. Before Mundus Hell was like your human countries, constantly at war with itself. While some demons were birthed natural from Hell, the majority were spawned within the castles of Demon Lords. Demons Lords would then use these armies in never ending wars against others. But when Mundus won against other Demon Lords, rather than destroying them, brought them under his rule. Using this method he has brought all of Hell except one to heel, the Demon Lords he calls his Generals, who then lead their own respective armies according to Mundus’ command.”

“The Demon Lord not under Mundus’ control. Could he be swayed to our side?” Cathal asked, a calculating fire in his eyes.
“Argosax. No. He’s wild, even for a demon. Mundus knows this, he didn’t even try to control Argosax, too chaotic to be of use to anyone but himself.”
“Who are the Generals then? And who is under them?”
“There are far too many Generals to recount them all, but they are in a hierarchy before Mundus in levels of strength. Foremost are Phantom, Malphas, Berial, Bolverk, Griffon and Pandora. We are lucky in that the most powerful Demon Lord under Mundus has recently disappeared, so a significant part of the Demon Army will be in disarray. We will also have to be careful of Echidna, Ifrit and Mundus' Elite. They are Mundus' own personal army from his days as a Demon Lord, and are all formidable foe.”
"This demon general that disappeared. He didn't take his army with him?” Arlynn asked, confusion spread across his face. “Why ever would he do that? Are you sure your information is correct?” Sparda glanced across at Cathal, but received a steely glare back. Either he hadn’t noticed his glance or he wasn’t going to get any help from that direction.

“No Chieftain, I am the missing general. No demon in their right mind would abandon the spawn of their own castle, but I have because I see the good in humanity. I, Sparda, former right hand of God-Emperor Mundus, foremost swordsman of Hell, Demon Lord of the Castle of Wrath, reject demonkind forever, and henceforth will fight only for the good of mankind.” For flourish, Sparda summoned Devil Sword Sparda into the ground in front of him, placing one hand atop it. The image was rather spoilt by his other arm hanging by a thread, but he could still see the awe in the assembled human’s eyes. Cathal shook it off first, closely followed by Evelyn and the twins.
“I think we already covered your allegiance, Demon Lord Sparda.” Cathal quipped, the ghost of a smile rising and promptly disappearing from his lips. “If you would continue with your description of the Demon Army.”

Chapter Text

Describing the entirety of the Demon Army was impossible. Not even Sparda, with his expansive knowledge of demonic species and his rival Demon Lords, could describe all of it. Instead, he described what had comprised his own army, reeled off all of the generals he knew had similar – if very much smaller – armies, as well as what he knew of the armies of the main 6 generals. He had just finished describing the army-creating, walking spawner that was Echidna and the spiked, firedrake Ifrit.

“And Mundus’ elite? What are they?” Cathal asked, glancing up from his parchment. He had moved early on to sit at his table and had covered several sheafs of parchment with his scrawl. Arlynn had taken to sitting on the floor, looking more and more ill as he realised quite the extent of what humanity faced.
“20 or so demons under Mundus’ direct control. I’ve only ever seen them a handful of times, so couldn’t tell you much about them. They are by far the most powerful thing under Mundus’ control. Each rides a Geryon steed, a demonic horse with time manipulating powers. Beyond that, I know nothing about them. They are a highly destructive force. When I faced Mundus myself when he sought to control me.” Sparda paused, images of the destruction they had caused horrific even to his eyes. “What they wrought was terrifying. With all honestly General, I think the best advice would be evacuation.”

“Evacuation? Sparda, this is the greatest Stronghold in Albion. Unless there are lands beyond Albion where mankind has withstood, which you can guide us to, I don’t see the use in abandoning our defences here.” Cathal replied, his eyes shrewdly gazing at the map of Albion. It was peppered with pinpricks of Stronghold, many of which Sparda had seen burnt. The General was right, Lake was the largest by far, even highlighted with a red circle.
“There are not other lands with organised people anymore. There are sporadic stragglers left, but this is the last place of human…civilisation.” Unease hung in the room, Arlynn in particular giving Sparda a wary glance.
“I see.” Cathal murmured, his voice so soft it was almost lost. Apparently even he was unsettled by this. He shook his head, his long hair drifting slightly, as he turned to give the Demon Lord a defiant stare. “That just proves my point. It is from here that we must defend mankind. We have no where to retreat to so we must fight.”

“What of the Isle of Fortuna?” Ventured Arlynn, his voice wavering slightly. “Mankind is said to be safe there.”
“I have only heard rumours of Fortuna.” Sparda replied. “The key element is that no demon knows its location, or cannot step foot there, or some other variation, so obviously I have never seen any evidence of it. I have heard rumours only from scared and dying humans, and demons gullible enough to repeat the babblings of the terrified.” Oh shoot. Sparda really shouldn’t have let his mouth run like that. Damn it! He was better than this. “Uhm, I mean. Ah, I don’t think it’s anything more than wishful thinking.”
“Thank you for that, Sparda.” Cathal muttered dryly, projecting an image of unflappability that Arlynn grabbed on to as quickly as a drowning man to a raft. “It would seem we have no other options than to stand and fight.
“You will lose, General.” Sparda growled, his temper rising a notch. “Only half an hour ago it took 80 soldiers to kill 30 flambats. Flambats are among the very lowest of the demons in my army. The full demon army, is about to descend on your soldiers, and at the strength they are they will be annihilated, and everyone with them.”

“You forget one thing, demon general.” Cathal shot back, his eyes filled with a quiet fire. “I have two weeks to prepare. I know what I am preparing for. I am a genius.”
“I will not deny that you showed skill commanding earlier today, but you cannot work miracles. 20,000 of your men would not be enough to defeat Mundus’ elite, let alone the entire army. Would you let your arrogance doom mankind?” Cathal’s eyes flared, fury clearly on the tip of his tongue, before he closed his eyes briefly and let out a lone, quiet breath.
“Sparda, I have reason to believe I have already defeated Mundus’ elite. With 50 fresh recruits no less. I excel at traps and preparation. With two weeks, I will be unbeatable.”
“Impossible! I’m not sure I have the power to take on all 20 of them. There’s no way 50 humans defeated them. Do not think – ”

“Their horses were black, with hooves and manes of blue fire, they two blue horns sprouting from a skull-like head. Each had the power to slow time at their command. Two of the riders were identical, like living shadows. They were thin and angular, with hundreds of joints in each of their elongated limbs. They worked together in harmony, warping the ground beneath us to attack us. One was like a mass of tentacles with a single bird’s head at the centre. Each climb clasped a weapon which spewed fire or ice or lightning or beams of power. Another –”
“Alright, General Cathal.” Sparda interrupted him, the fury leaving the demon in an instant. “I believe you.” Thinking over it, for a while Sparda and his armies had been forced to fight harder than usual. He had thought that the other generals, Malphas especially, were simply becoming bored and lazy with their fighting, but perhaps. Perhaps they were all picking up the slack of the elite. It would make sense. Especially so that Mundus would hide it from everyone. “How did you do it? It…does not seem feasible at all.”

“It was in the early days as a commander, but I was lucky. I saw them riding towards where my men and I were hidden. I created a decoy encampment for them to attack in the middle of a deep gorge. I even left some of my men there to die to make it realistic. This particular gorge was across from a frozen lake but, with the recent snowfall, only locals would know that. Then, we coated our weapons with salt, fresh water, oils. Anything we could think of that might hurt them. We waited around the top of the gorge. They came charging across the frozen lake and the ice cracked beneath them, drowning half of them there and then. The others came into the gorge. Seeing the decoy, they turned their attacks to where we were hiding above them. Naturally, it was not high enough to stop their attacks from reaching us, but it was enough to ensure our attacks hit their marks. I was also lucky, I’ll admit. I had inherited this, which I thought was just a necklace.” At this Cathal pulled a thin silver chain from under his tunic. On it hung an intricate knot of silver around a pale blue gemstone. Sparda could feel it’s power immediately and was amazed he had not noticed it before. It’s cloaking abilities alone were formidable. “It created a shield of sorts that the demon’s power could not breach, but our weapons could. I called my men behind it and from there we pummelled them. Admittedly, some of our weapons did more than others, and many of my men did die, but we did it. Eventually, they died, and the gorge was filled with their blood.” Cathal tucked the necklace away out of sight. “I’ve learnt and grown since that day, Sparda. I’ve spent my life collecting any objects similar to my necklace, and they are kept here, the ultimate armoury. I have also perfected an ointment from the things supposedly fatal to your kind that will turn any weapon into one catastrophic for your kind. The only reason we didn’t use it today is that it is highly expensive, and I, rightly so, did not believe it was needed.”

“Incredible.” Sparda whispered. Cathal had used an arcane item he barely understood, and a strategy that while simple, when combined with his quick wittedness and, to be honest, luck, had done the impossible. “You said you have more arcane items. Can I see them?”
“Of course. I take it that you no longer think we’re a lost cause then?”
“I do not General. It will not be easy, but so long as you can impress upon the generals that they may be defeated, they will panic and run. And for now, that it all we need.” “Agreed. We should plan tonight to ensure we have enough time to prepare.”

“Very well gentlemen.” Arlynn interrupted them, startling the two soldiers out of their conversation. “You seem to know what you want now.”
“We do.” Replied Cathal curtly, displeasure at being interrupted leaking from him.
“Well, deliver to me what I and the citizens will need to do tomorrow morning.” He said, moving from where he had been leaning against the wall to the door. “I was planning on sleeping tonight.” He muttered.
“Of course, Chieftain.” Sparda replied with a deep bow, at just the same time Cathal replied, ‘will do’ noncommittedly.

“Sparda.” He said, turning back sharply with fire returning to his eyes. “Do you want to see the armoury?”
“Immediately, Cathal. However, perhaps it would be wise to find somewhere the children can sleep.” Sparda glanced to where Evelyn and the twins were gathered in a gently snoring pile. The general softened as soon as his eyes reached them, and soft sigh escaping his lips.
“Of course.” Cathal half-whispered. “This must be the first time they’ve been able to properly relax since…...” Hmmm. That couldn’t be true, could it? Sparda pondered as he carefully roused Evelyn. He’d been better than that with them, surely? “They can sleep in my room. There should be enough space and I have another house.”

Evelyn opened her eyes sleepily, looking at Sparda without really seeing him.
“Evelyn, you just need to move a bit.” He said as softly as he could which, to be fair, wasn’t all that soft at all.
“Mmmmm alright.” Evelyn yawned, slowly getting up, her movements all disjointed and clumsy. She looked around slowly, seeing one sleeping twin in Cathal’s arms. Carefully, Sparda picked up the other twin in his working arm, the other dangling half off.
“Just through here Evelyn.” Cathal guided them through the rough doorway into a darker room, which Sparda hastily illuminated with a couple of Summoned Swords. It was a meagre, small room. Most of it was taken up with a pile of furs and blankets which Sparda recognised as a bed, alongside which there was a small fire pit. Yet more sheafs of parchment lay about the room, and a small pile of neatly folded spare tunics and other clothes. Evelyn stumbled towards the bed, before collapsing into it with a satisfied expression. Cathal gently placed the boy he was holding down beside her, and Sparda followed suit on the other side.
“Now.” Cathal announced, although a little more quietly, turning on his heel swiftly. “Let’s talk arcane weapons!”

Ahearn jerked awake as soon as Sparda and Cathal left the general’s quarters. Clearly the captain had been dozing as he waited for the war council to conclude.
“General –” he spluttered, blinking sleep from his eyes.
“I have ordered you to wait there, Captain.” Cathal cut him off stiffly. “I do not appreciate my orders being disobeyed.” Sparda could see in the man’s eyes resignment as he realised perhaps, he was not waiting to be promoted. He didn’t address them as the duo returned to the general’s quarters nearly an hour later.

“Sparda.” Cathal addressed him after they had returned from the armoury. It had truly been an impressive sight. The power thrummed throughout the room from the frankly terrifying number of different objects arrayed in the room. It had hurt him even to enter it, and he got the idea that if he stayed in there too long, he would have been seriously affected by the powerful objects. His healing arm had slowed quickly to a stop, after all. “Now you know what we have and have tested my ointment –” Ouch that had hurt. Sparda’s side was still aching where a sword he previously would have been impervious to had slid through his carapace as easily as his own sword would have. His own sword didn’t also corrode his flesh, this thing did. “ – are you ready to plan our battle?”

“One more thing. Are humans capable of magic?”
“Magic? The Druid does all kinds of rituals and whatnot, but I’m not convinced they do what he claims they do.”
“I see. Hmmm, try this for me, Cathal, and see if it works.” Sparda then quickly described a simple ward to the human general, guiding him as he inscribed it onto one of the many spare pieces of parchment. He finished more quickly than Sparda expected, one small touch from the Demon Lord’s finger was enough to confirm that, yes, humans could do magic. He hissed as his finger dissolved into dust in front of him, as far up as the ward had reach while he touched it. Good grief, he was going to get more injuries from testing things than he was from battle. “Higher level demons can do magic, although it’s not very common.” He explained, his healing sluggish as it tried to address three wounds at once. “As you can see, wards work on all demons, so working with magic is a fine line between a good defence and painful backfiring. I know the basics, and I’m sure with human creativity you can do much more with it.”
“Interesting.” Cathal muttered, experimentally touching what appeared to him to be nothing more than some intricate charcoal on a parchment. “Bearing that in mind, how about we –” He began, grabbing one of the maps of the Stronghold and laying it out on the desk in front of them. They discussed with each other for a long time, testing the other’s ideas and strategies to destruction, ensuring every angle was covered. With Sparda’s knowledge of their enemy and Cathal’s knowledge of the human army, they were able to debate the best traps, the best tricks, and the best scenarios.

By the time they were finished, every stray piece of parchment was covered in a combination of Cathal’s human scrawl and Sparda’s austere demonic.
“I think,” Cathal said, stifling a yawn, “I think that should be enough.” The sun had begun to rise a while ago, and Sparda had gradually removed his Summoned Swords lighting up the room as his vision had diminished.
“I agree.” He rumbled in return. At least he was pretty much healed at this point. Only that chest wound from the ointment, it was vicious clearly. “Shall I deliver our requirements to Chieftain Arlynn?”
“Yes, please.” Cathal replied, yawning again. His adrenaline had left him a long time ago, leaving him to function on passion alone, which he was remarkably adept at. “I’m going to get some sleep.” As he started for the door, however, he stopped suddenly. “I forgot! Captain Ahearn.” He shifted before Sparda’s eyes, all signs of exhaustion leaving his tired frame as the image of the capable general once again came over him. The more Sparda knew him, the more impressed he became.

“Captain Ahearn.” The general called as he opened the door. “You may come in.” There was the sounds of spluttering and surprise from just outside the door, and Ahearn entered a moment later, looking rumpled and more than a little dusty. Clearly, he was not as good at staving off sleep as Cathal was.
“General!” He cried, standing to attention quickly. Sparda had to give him that, he was good at following orders when needs be.
“Captain Ahearn,” Cathal began, “over the sort time I have known you, you have proven to be one of the most prejudiced, arrogant and just plain rude ambaxtoi I have met in this army.” What little colour there had been in the Captain’s face drained quickly. “More than that, your unchanging bias has proven to me that you are not flexible nor a good enough leader to be in a position as important as Captain of the Western Contingent. You are hereby demoted to Soldier, and Soldier Rhys is promoted in your place. However, you are not to re-join your contingent. Instead, from henceforth you are to serve under Brigadier Sparda, a new rank below mine but above Captain. I expect his orders to be obeyed, Soldier. Go and inform Captain Rhys of his promotion, obtain the proper uniform and return here.” Shock was daubed across the former-Captains face with such vigour there was no room for anything else. Ahearn managed to sputter out a ‘yes General’ before he turned tail and all but fled from the room. As soon as he was gone, Cathal sagged, his mask crumbling away.
“Very well, Brigadier. Go and deliver our plans to the Chieftain. I will inform the army of your rank,” he yawned again, not even trying to stifle it, “soon enough.”
“Yes, General!” Sparda replied, copying the salute he had seen.

Chapter Text

Evelyn woke suddenly, panic clawing at her lungs. Her eyes flicked open, raking in everything they could. Inside. Unfamiliar. Strange objects. Weapons. Oh gods oh gods this isn’t good. Mum? Dad? Oh oh no no. No no no no no. Was she alone. Not alone. Nnonononononononnoononno. Oh gods, her brothers. Where were they?

Still asleep. One on either side. Relief.

Evelyn forced herself to breathe. To breathe. Calm down. There was no point in panicking. Just use your brain and think. Okay okay. Calm down. That’s it. Keep breathing. What could she remember? Sparda. Oh right. Inside a stronghold. That’s right, they were inside a stronghold they had walked to. That’s it. Keep breathing, keep thinking, stop panicking. In and out. That’s it. In and out. They were in the personal room of that general Sparda had made friends with.

Finally, Evelyn’s heart stopped pounding in her ears. She was ok. Her family was ok. She could relax. Slowly, Evelyn’s breathing returned to normal, as she ran through all that had happened to her in the past 3 days. Gods, it had only been 3 days. It felt like 8 months. At last, Evelyn felt enough of herself to stop consolidating and think about what they were going to do now.

The twins were still asleep, snuggled up and lying beside her. She was surprised she hadn’t woken them, although she hadn’t actually moved from where she was lying. There were no windows in the room, the only light splashing through an open arch-like door, illuminating the pile of clothes and little else in what Evelyn supposed was a bedroom. How extravagant, to have a room just for sleeping and personal items. She had only ever heard that the Chieftain at home had a bedroom.

Still, it didn’t give her any indication of what time it might be outside of the room. She couldn’t hear any voices from the other room, which also didn’t help her place what time it was. Sparda didn’t sleep though, so perhaps he was close? Then again, he might be with that general, what was his name? Cathal. He might be with Cathal.

Evelyn’s mind wandered as she lay in the semi-dark. She glanced across every item in the room what felt like a hundred times, although she couldn’t really discern anything more about General Cathal except he had clothes, a knife, parchment and a fire pit in his room. Some bloody braccae, Evelyn noted, although being a soldier she supposed that wasn’t all that strange.

What were they going to do now? She had said she wanted to stay with Sparda, but beyond that…she didn’t know. Before, she’d always imagined herself following in her mother’s footsteps. Meeting a man within the Stronghold, marrying and spending the rest of her days being a mother, weaving, sewing and cooking. Now, Evelyn didn’t know. Obviously there was the massive war for mankind’s existence to get in the way of settling down, but also, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to just cook and weave for the rest of her days. She had seen so much more of the world than she ever could have imagined, and she knew what mankind was doing to keep it so wonderful.

She surely couldn’t stand idly by when she knew first-hand exactly the battles that were going on. Especially if she was going to stay with Sparda, which she certainly was. Then, of course, there were the twins. She was not going to leave them behind either, but they were far too young to galivanting into battle. She’d have to look after them no matter what happened, and she looked forward to that, but she also didn’t know how she was going to look after them and keep up with Sparda. It didn’t matter in the end, she supposed. All she wanted at the moment, was to keep family safe and together, and that was enough of a goal when the world was in danger of ending at any moment. She could think about other dreams for the future if and when it came up.

Regardless, with the twins still asleep there wasn’t a lot Evelyn could do but wait for them to wake up.
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They did wake up, eventually, within a few seconds of each other, which had to be because of some sort of telepathy. Even so, for Evelyn lying there in the semi-dark it felt like an awful long time.
“Morning, big sis.” Mumbled Robert, rubbing the sleep from his eyes slowly.
“Good morning, Robert.” Evelyn replied, smiling softly. “And good morning to you too, Sam.” Sam yawned in reply, before snuggling back into Evelyn. “You know, I would appreciate it from you two if I could actually get up this morning.” She smiled, brushing her hand over their brown hair.
“We just got uuuup!” Robert moaned, yawning slightly.
“I think big sis has been up for a while though.” Sam mumbled from within the folds of Evelyn’s dress.
“What? Really!??” Robert said, his eyes gazing up into Evelyn’s
“Yep!” She replied. “So I’d appreciate it if you two would let me actually sit up and just maybe achieve something today?”
“But we’ve done sooo much recently.” Robert moaned. “Can’t we just play for a day?”
“I thought you wanted to stay with Sparda?” Evelyn shot back playfully. “If you want to spend time with him you’re going to need to be ready to be as serious as him.”
“But that sounds boring! I like playing, and I’ve been serious for ages!”
“She’s right.” Sam interrupted. “Adults are serious almost all of the time, and if we want to stay with Sparda and keep up with adults then we’re going to need to be that serious too.”
“Sam, that’s not what I – ” Evelyn was interrupted by Sam before she could even finish her sentence.
“It’s ok, sis. I understand.”
“Hmmmm, no you don’t.” Evelyn hastily backtracked. That wasn’t really what she had meant. “You misunderstand. I was just saying that to try and get you two out of bed! You are children. Children are allowed to play and be silly and not be serious all the time. I was just being silly.”
“SIS!!” Robert burst out laughing. Sam giggled as well, and Evelyn couldn’t stop herself either. The pair were just so infectious!

Eventually, Evelyn managed to manhandle and finagle the two 8-year-olds out of bed and into looking less like absolute messes. She honestly dreaded to think what she looked like, she hadn’t seen a comb in days. Ah well, at least she could hide it all under her headscarf. That being said, her clothes, and the twins’ for that matter, had been through an awful lot in the past 3 days. It was a real shame all of their other clothes were ash.
“Come on you two. Let’s go see what the day will bring us.” Evelyn smiled, trying desperately to ignore the slight smell they all had, as she lead them out into the other room of the General’s quarters.
“SPARDA!” Yelled Robert, the minute he saw him leaning against the opposite wall of the room. The boy dashed towards him, disregarding the piles of parchment and other obstacles, to land in a hug on his leg.
“Good morning!” Sam chirped as his brother cuddled into what really couldn’t be comfortable.
“Good morning Sam and Robert.” Sparda growled cheerily back. Evelyn snorted to herself. For anyone else that would sound really really strange. “And good morning Miss Evelyn.” Was that a cheeky smile she spied upon the demon’s lips? How dare he!
“Good morning to you too, General Sparda.” She snipped back, a smile inching its way onto her whether she liked it or not.
“Sparda! What are we gonna do today??” Robert interrupted, gazing up into his red eyes. “I wanna do something fun! And I don’t wanna walk.” Sam coughed loudly at that, stopping any reply Sparda might have in its tracks
“I’m going to do whatever Evelyn wants us to do. Very seriously.” Sam stated, contorting his voice into what probably sounded all grown-up to him. If anything, it just made him more cute.
“I do have things I need to do today, but they’re going to have to wait until the Chieftain approves General Cathal’s battle plan, and informs the General of it, and that will be after the General is awake. Until then, I can just spend time with you three.” Sparda replied, crouching down so he was on a similar level to the twins. Now that was very cute.
“Well, if you are free then, perhaps you can scare some of the people here into giving us breakfast. And clean clothes.” Evelyn joked.
“I can do you one better.” Sparda replied, his head snapping up to meet her eyes with unnatural speed. “Soldier! Come in!” He called loudly.

Evelyn could not believe her eyes as the door opened and in walked Captain Ahearn. He looked down right exhausted for a start, but his pockmarked face look crushed in a way that was more than just sleep deprivation. His blonde hair had half worked its way out of its ponytail, with fly-aways hanging scraggly around his face. He was wearing a new tunic too, blue compared to his previous green, and it sat uncomfortable on him.

“Yes Brigadier?” He ground out with just as little respect as he could get away with.
“I’m a member of the human army. A Brigadier.” Sparda rumbled, pride practically seeping off of him. “Soldier Ahearn is my underling and guide. So, Soldier, where do the humans find their clothes here? And food?”
“Brigadier……!” Robert whispered, awe-inspired, before turning to murmur furiously with Sam. Sparda hesitated for a moment, before looking across at Evelyn. “Where do humans find those things normally anyway?”
"A market.” Evelyn replied without thinking. Guess answering Sparda’s questions was almost second nature at this point. Gosh it was weird how quickly she had adapted to that. “It’s where lots of humans go to exchange things like food and clothes and crockery and other things you make for money. Do you remember I explained the concept of money?”
“I remember. The distribution of resources based purely upon the attribution of value on things like gold, which in fact are mostly worthless. Such a peaceful and weirdly roundabout way of doing things.” Sparda replied, his eyes gazing off into the distance for a moment, a sure sign he was really thinking deeply about something.
“So long as it works, I won’t question it.” Evelyn shrugged. “I don’t have any money though.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Soldier Ahearn, as my guide I order you to find us a market and enough money to buy my family clothes and breakfast.” Sparda ordered. Ahearn looked up at the demon, frozen for a moment, before answering.
“You’re lucky, today is market day. But I don’t see where you could get money from. Could you borrow some from the General?”
“I am your superior. Address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Brigadier’.” Sparda growled, before brightening instantly. “As punishment for that misstep, you shall pay for everything my family needs at the market.”
“!!!!!! SIR!!!!!!!!!”
“Much better! Evelyn, Sam, Robert. Ready for breakfast?”
“YES FOOD!” Yelled Robert, dragged away from his conversation with Sam. Sam looked a little miffed at this, but was soon appeased with the appeal of breakfast. Evelyn was still very unsure over what Sparda was suggesting, however.

“Sparda are you sure?” She asked quietly as the five of them left Cathal’s quarters and started to walk through the barracks. She did notice several soldiers giving Sparda dirty side-eye, although none of them spoke out. Perhaps they had been briefed already? “We could spend a lot of money, which Ahearn might not be able to afford. I know he’s kind of a horrible person, but that doesn’t mean we should spend everything he has.”
“I……oh. Humans only have small amounts of money, don’t you? I hadn’t considered that. Will it affect him badly if we spend all of his money?”
“It can do yes.”
“Then I will ask General Cathal to repay whatever we spend. You said gold is wealth, yes? General Cathal was wearing a lot of gold yesterday. I can’t imagine he has a use for it if he can wear it.”
“I…um…yes. I never really thought about it to be honest. Some people have more money than others, because they’re more important, for the most part. Rich people are almost always nobles or Druids. That’s how come they can read and write and ride horses and all of that stuff. I guess noble families need it then.” Evelyn hesitated, stopping in the middle the barracks as she realised just where her thinking out loud had taken her. She knew first-hand how much stress a lack of money could put on people. Her own family often just had none, and they had gone without meat or new pots for weeks, sometimes even months, until Mum finished weaving a new bolt or Dad managed to catch something while tending their field strip. Did nobles really need so much money they wore it when her family couldn’t replace broken bowls?

She glanced up, realising the others were staring at her.
“Sis? You okay? You just stopped in the middle of the road.” Sam asked, eyes filled with worry.
“Yeah I’m ok, Sam. Sparda just…made me think of somethings I hadn’t thought of before. Nothing wrong at all.”
“Well, since we stopped still inside the barracks.” Ahearn interrupted. “Sir.” He ground out after a sharp glare from Sparda. “But while all soldiers have been briefed on your presence, Brigadier, and only slightly by the Captain of the Guard, no civilians have. As your guide, sir, I must advise you don’t attend the market.” It was amazing. To Evelyn’s eyes, Ahearn was nothing but angry, his whole expression and tone was angry, and yet his body looked just like any other emotionless soldier, like a mask for his mannerisms.
“I agree, Soldier Ahearn.” Sparda replied after a pause. “Take Evelyn, Sam and Robert to the market, and buy them breakfast and clean clothes. You are to treat Evelyn as my representative, and to obey her orders. You are to protect and look after Sam and Robert, but only follow their orders if expressly told to do so by Evelyn. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir!” Ahearn saluted. But Evelyn wasn’t sure if she trusted him. His eyes had a look in them that Evelyn didn’t quite like, a dull, bitter residue towards Sparda and, by proxy, herself. She glanced sidelong at Sparda at this, but she wasn’t as adept at reading him as perhaps she thought he was. Either the Demon Lord hadn’t noticed or he believed it wouldn’t be a problem.
“See you soon, Sparda.” Evelyn said with a quick smile, the twins following suit. She turned, only to find Ahearn had already taken off into the Stronghold at a frightening pace, his long legs leading him off into the mass of roundhouses.

Chapter Text

Ahearn really didn’t want to like the filthy kids he was being forced to chaperone. They were spending his money, and the two boys were acting like they’d never seen so many things for sale in their life before. Then again, bearing in mind that they had spent their whole lives in Pine Trees, perhaps that wasn’t so surprising. Even so, this meagre collection of filmsy tables with sad-looking goods was nothing compared to some of the markets he had seen. The spices and fabrics of his youth were the whole rainbow of colour and smell, whereas this place seemed fixated on brown and mud.

“Sis!” One of the twins yelled from beside a fire sizzling with pork. Ahearn couldn’t tell them apart and frankly didn’t care. It was because of this lot there was a demon in his home that was bound to destroy everything any time soon, and he had lost the position he had given literal blood and sweat to get. And they were probably demon worshippers. Idiots that thought cowering at the feet of your captors will save you. It never did, Ahearn had seen more than enough to confirm that. No, there was no other way of looking at it, he was being forced to spend money on three blasted idiots that probably spelled his doom.

“Ahearn.” The girl was saying, looking up at him. She had a look of distrust and overall dislike on her face every time her eyes landed on him, although it quickly melted when looking back at her brothers. “We would like some pork for our breakfast please. Could you buy three portions for us?” It was the way she said it that Ahearn admired. No no, hated. He definitely hated her. The way she clearly disliked and feared him and yet had the absolute guts to treat him with a cool passive-aggressive demeanour. It was incredible. No! It wasn’t! It was incredibly annoying. Yes yes, Ahearn DEFINITELY found her annoying and did not at all admire her.

He watched as the three guzzled their ill-gotten breakfast, the girl carefully watching the younger two, ensuring they had eaten and were ok before she looked to herself. It reminded him so much of his own brother, he begrudgingly admitted to himself. She was nothing like him in every other regard of course, he had been clever and kind and caring and brave and everything good in a person. His brother had been the greatest person on this planet, and therefore was nothing like this absolutely worthless demon-worshipping child. But even then, Ahearn did have to admire her devotion to her siblings. It was similar to his brother, but in that and that alone.
“Alright Ahearn.” She was saying, turning from where she had cleaned some grease from off of her brother’s cheek. “Where are clothes in this market?”
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Sparda was beginning to worry about how long Evelyn was taking at this ‘market’ of theirs. Perhaps he should have accompanied them. After all, it was no secret that Soldier Ahearn really hated him, and he worried that the human wouldn’t have the self-control to not take it out on Evelyn. Or was he thinking of Ahearn as a demon? In his, admittedly very short, knowledge of humans, he hadn’t known a human to have such deep-set hate before. Alright so Evelyn hadn’t been overly fond of him at first, but she hadn’t hated him, not truly. Ahearn did. Did humans act on that hate like demons did? Sparda simply didn’t know, and it was eating at him.

With a bang, the door to General Cathal’s quarters flew open and bashed against the opposing wall.
“Brigadier! Good morning!” Cathal cried out as he strode in. Following him was Evelyn, Sam, Robert and Soldier Ahearn.
“Good morning General.” Sparda rumbled before turning to Evelyn. She smelt a little different to how she did before, probably the new clothes. “And hello again Evelyn. Did you find what you needed at the market?
“Yep! We’ve got new clothes! Not that you can see them I guess.” Evelyn replied.
“What?” Cathal blurted before Sparda, or anyone else, could say anything. “Sparda, are you blind?”
“Oh, had I not told you yet? My eyes are designed for very low light, so I’m practically blind during the daytime. I rely on smell instead.”
“Sparda had a wizard sense of smell! He smells people and trees and things as easily as we see things!” Robert blurted excitedly.
“I see.” Cathal replied noncommittedly, looking down at the boy in slight disbelief. “Will this affect you at all in battler, Brigadier?”
“Not much sir. I may be a little slower to react to things, but I will still be faster than a human’s reaction time.” Sparda rumbled.
“Excellent. Well, I need you with me Brigadier. I have just been with Chieftain Arlynn, and he has gathered the majority of the Stronghold’s population together outside his hall. We are going to announce you and parts of the plans to defend this Stronghold to them. Bring the children, they’ll help with softening your image. Oh, and good job not accompanying them to the market. That would’ve been a headache I don’t want to have to deal with. Right. Brilliant. Follow me.”

After that unstoppable torrent of words, General Cathal turned as if it was nothing out of the ordinary and strode out of the room as if he owned the place, which he actually did, Sparda reminded himself. Sparda gave a short shrug to Evelyn, who was looking at him quizzically, before following after his superior officer. A quick sniff was enough to confirm that the three children were following after him, with Soldier Ahearn bringing up the rear. That was a credit to him, at the very least, Sparda hadn’t been forced to order him to do so.
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Tara was in equal parts nervous and annoyed. It had been like any other day for her this morning, and now she was stuck in front of the Chieftain’s hall, crammed in with around half the Stronghold it seemed. It was hot, uncomfortable, and two people down she could hear Birgit’s braying voice gossiping like they were still all clustered together around their looms or sewing and waiting for their husbands to return from training. But they weren’t, were they Birgit? They had been ushered here by soldiers because the Chieftain had a ‘momentous announcement’. So shut up, Birgit.

Maybe Tara was lashing out at her. Everyone was tense here, it was easy to tell in the close conversations people were having. Clearly they hadn’t anticipated quite how much space 5,000 odd people took up, as some boys-almost-men had climbed onto nearby rooves to still be present, and people were crammed together uncomfortably to fit.

Gods, how long were they going to have to wait there? The longer Tara stood, her calves already beginning to cramp, the more irritable she became. What on earth could the Chieftain have to say? Alright, so Tara and literally everyone else present had a very good idea what was about to happen. It was about to be announced that the Demon Army was nearly upon them and they were all going to die. Everyone knew it was bound to happen at some point. A lot of people here had come from other Strongholds across Albion that had been destroyed, drawn to the Lake because of its size and thus appearance of safety. Well, that hadn’t saved the Stronghold of the Chalk Maiden, had it?

Suddenly, the enormous double doors of the hall opened, and out stepped both the Chieftain and the General. Oh gods, it was as feared then. The Chieftain got up onto a make-shift stage so he could gaze out at the crowd, which quietened like a wheat field when the wind stops.
“Citizens of the Stronghold of the Lake.” He addressed them, his voice echoing. “I am before you today to make a crucial announcement. One that will mark a point in history and a change in the war against the Demon Army.” Oh gods. “Worry not. I have excellent news for you all. But I must first tell you that I have it on good authority that our Stronghold will be besieged by the Demon Army very soon. Most likely after 2 weeks have passed. I know what terrible news this is. I know this is something every single one of us have been dreading. However, this is not the end for us. Not by any means. Because we have an ally. We have someone who knows the Demon Army and had the power and had the capability to not only protect us, but to teach us ways to protect ourselves that will make every demon tremble in fear. He is to be our greatest weapon, already a Brigadier within our army. I have the honour to introduce to you, Brigadier Sparda!”

Tara was confused and hopeful and overall just a mess. Even Birgit was as silent as the grave, like everyone, as a figure appeared in the doorway of the hall. It was tall, towering over the Chieftain even with him on a stage. It appears to be holding something, a lighter shape under each of its arms.

HOLY FUCK. It was a demon. Tara’s heart began to race as she stumbled backwards into whoever was behind her. Demon. Demon. Demon. There was a demon in the Stronghold. There was a DEMON in the STRONGHOLD. Shit shit shit. What did she do? What was going on. She could hear various shouts from the people around her, and some of the people closer to it tried to run, to attack it or something but the soldiers around the Chieftain stopped them. Tara was panicking. Birgit was panicking. Everyone was panicking. THERE WAS A DEMON IN THE STRONGHOLD.

“Everyone, please!” The Chieftain called, his arms raised. That got Tara’s attention, and around her some people stilled, either from confusion or real calm she didn’t know and didn’t care. “Brigadier Sparda is here to protect us. Brigadier Sparda has already saved the lives of 60 people, and has worked with General Cathal to create an excellent plan to protect us. With Brigadier Sparda beside us we will win.”

More shouts were resounding, shock, anger, surprise. Even the odd cheer. Tara didn’t know what to do, every emotion she’d ever felt in her life was rushing through her all at once.
“Our Chieftain is right.” The General was saying now, shouting over the crowd. Tara was never sure about him, he always seemed so frail and unsoldier-like. “Our Brigadier is everything we need to defeat the Demon Army and free mankind from this war.”

Free from the war. It had been so long since everyone Tara knew wasn’t in someway connected to the war. Her husband was a soldier, her eldest son was a soldier, she was as often weaving uniforms as real clothes. Perhaps this demon could be a good idea.
“Honoured citizens.” The demon was saying. It’s voice was a deep growling rumble, and several people around Tara startled or cried out. Tara, however, was reminded of her grandfather. An old, wizened man who she barely remembered. His voice was so used it could only croak, but even as a tiny child Tara could always hear the love hidden underneath it. Suddenly, the demon seemed so much more approachable. “I am here to defend you and to train you. I can help you defeat those who will give you harm.”
“Staying with the Brigadier will be three children he rescued from the destruction of the Stronghold of the Pine Trees.” The Chieftain was continuing. Tara didn’t quite know what to think about that, Pine Trees had been destroyed, which couldn’t be good news for them, but on the other hand this demon apparently cared enough for children to rescue them. Now that she looked closer she could see two boys, one nestled under each arm, and a girl close beside him. It was almost cute.

“The Brigadier will begin training people immediately. Those who have been chosen to be trained first have already been notified, so please go to the barracks. Everyone else, please return to your daily lives, but be aware as the Brigadier’s plan comes into shape you may well be called for training.” That was it. The Chieftain, the General and the Brigadier all turned away from the crowd at that, and returned through the double doors into the hall. Tara didn’t quite understand what had just happened, but looking around at the faces of everyone else in the crowd, it suddenly became clear to her. Hope. They had just been given hope. Some of the people around her clearly needed more convincing, Birgit apparently among them as her voice started again like clockwork, but Tara suddenly realised that, for the first time in a very long time, she actually felt that maybe mankind weren’t heading straight of a cliff with no brakes.
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Sparda was surprised by the number of people he smelt gathered together. According to Cathal, it was around half of the residents of the Stronghold, roughly 5,000 people in total. It was difficult to pick out individuals in such an assault on his nose, but judging by the overall smell of the crowd, it was roughly more women than men, with a near-negligible scattering of children. The noise alone of that many people conversing, even in half-whispers, was painfully loud on his sensitive hearing and was, Sparda was surprised to realise, more than a little daunting.

Sparda didn’t even want to think what such a crowd’s reaction would be upon seeing him, a demon, approaching. Thankfully, General Cathal had thought about this, and guided the group around to the back entrance of the hall. He was now striding up the open space and seat of power for the Stronghold with a brusque annoyance, before leading them out . Beyond the main double-doors of the hall, which were large enough that Sparda would not have to duck to get through them, there was a small, cordoned off space and a rough wooden box. The Chieftain was waiting for them just inside the doorway.
“Ah General!” He said the minute the back door opened. “It’s good to see you. And our new Brigadier too! Excellent, excellent.”
“Chieftain.” Cathal returned. “We’re ready if you are.” Cathal had explained the Chieftain’s plan for the announcement as they had walked to the centre of the Stronghold, although as Sparda felt himself becoming more and more nervous, and he suddenly wished he were not so well prepared. Arlynn was ploughing on regardless, however, and Sparda had little choice but to duck out of sight with Evelyn and the twins as the double doors opened to usher through the Chieftain and the General.

Arlynn’s voice boomed out across the square as he spoke, all at once his voice grandiose and authoritative. If Sparda were to hear that alone, he wouldn’t know what a bureaucratic person Arlynn was. If there was one thing Sparda could do in that moment, it would be to actually see how the crowd were reacting to Arlynn. Were human crowds like crowds of demons? He doubted it. All at once, the time had come and Sparda knew it was his moment to walk out and face the humans. He took a steadying breath, before he strode out to stand beside Arlynn. He had one twin under either arm, both of whom were emitting utter delight, with Evelyn confident beside him.

He gauged the crowd quickly, almost on the verge of terror. Surprise, fear, anger. Emotions were barrelling out of them in a cacophony of smell. Fuck! The plan wasn’t working! Sparda’s heart began to race and it suddenly felt like he was breathing through a straw. He was going to get mauled. They hated him. He’d have to run. Take the children and fly away. Would he have to kill anyone of these people? He didn’t want to. He really really didn’t want to. But would he have a choice. All that was keeping them away was a couple of human soldiers, and they were just as likely to turn on him as the crowd was. Oh no oh no oh SHIT. It was getting increasingly difficult to breathe and Sparda was convinced he was in some sort of sinkhole when he felt the world collapsing in around him. Trapping him totally.

Suddenly, he felt a nudging at his leg, and finally managing to get air through his nose he smelt Evelyn worried and confused for him. Evelyn. She was ok. They hadn’t been attacked. They hadn’t been attacked. Another breath, which came mercifully easier to him, told him General Cathal and Arlynn were waiting expectantly for him. The crowd was still very angry and shocked, but what allowed Sparda to finally start to breath easily again was a very fine lacing of hope. A few scant individuals in the crowd were feeling hope at Sparda’s arrival. Quickly, Sparda spoke. He’d been told roughly what he needed to say, but he was careful to say it in his own way. It was over before he’d really realised it had begun. Already Arlynn was guiding the crowd, and those very fine threads of hope were ever so gradually thickening.

Chapter Text

Gilda had never been in the barracks before, and as she was ushered through by some soldiers she didn’t recognise, she was beginning to understand why. It wasn’t a place women should go. There were soldiers everywhere, all of them male, and all of them were glaring at Gilda in a way that made her simultaneously self-conscious, uncomfortable and upset. She was beginning to regret agreeing to be one of the first group to be taught by the new Brigadier. In fact, she was past beginning to regret and well into full-on repentance.

It wasn’t soon enough when the soldiers finally guided Gilda into a large room, and was greeted with the stares of 25 other people. Brilliant. More men staring at her. From what Gilda was able to see before her eyes became glued to the floor, they were all sitting around an enormous table in the one-storey room. It was huge and rectangular, at least double the size of the interior of her own roundhouse. It had to be, to fit a table large enough to fit 25 people around it.

“And you must be Gilda.” A voice that was very familiar said. Gilda glanced up in shock, before blushing even more and looking away. It was the General himself.
“Y-yes, um, sir.”
“Excellent, you’re the last one. Take a seat and I’ll go and find the Brigadier.” The General was already walking away, brushing close by Gilda as he left. Gilda herself glanced again around the room, more than intimidated by the scale of everything that was happening, and spotted 4 other women in the veritable sea of men. She hurried over to sit with them, smiling wordlessly as they greeted her gently.

Suddenly the door to the room opened again, and in strode the Brigadier. He was huge, larger than Gilda had really recognised when watching him from the crowd. Following behind him were the three children and…oh. It was Captain Ahearn, although he wasn’t wearing the uniform of the Challenger Corps, and had changed to a blue tunic of the main army. She couldn’t see an ambaxtor's sword on him either, interesting. Had he been demoted? Gilda didn’t like Captain Ahearn at all, so she really didn’t mind that his situation had been changed. It seemed so unfair that he had been a Captain, a Captain of the Challenger Corps no less, when she knew so many better people than him. Perhaps he was a better soldier, Gilda wasn’t exactly an expert in that regard. Nevertheless, it didn’t bode well that the demon had chosen someone as horrible as Ahearn as his subordinate.

“Greetings everyone.” The demon rumbled, his voice a deep, threatening growl. He stood at the head of the table, fixing the stark red gaze of his eyes on each of the people in turn. “Today I am going to be teaching you how to use magic. Magic is incredibly complicated, at it’s essence, magic is communing and controlling the threads of the web that makes up time, matter and souls. I’m sure you can see how the consequences of mistakes or misuses can be incredibly damaging for yourself and many many others. You can never be arrogant and you must be careful with every step you take. That’s why you have been chosen as the first group to learn magic, I am told you all have an eye for detail. And one last thing – ” at this the demon seemed to grow before Gilda, a dark purple aura leaching out of him as he loomed before her, his scarlet eyes burning with an intensity that Gilda was certain was scorching her very soul “ – you may well be collaborating with one another on larger and more complicated spells, so it is IMPERATIVE that you work well together. No bickering, no in-fighting and CERTAINLY no trying to one-up each other. This is INCREDIBLY SERIOUS and if I catch wind of even one of you taking this as an opportunity to increase your own power I will PERSONALLY see that everyone is punished…..suitably.”

If Gilda had thought the demon was growling before, this was something else. The pure intimidation that grew out from him like a fungus as his voice resounded like thunder was terrifying. Gilda couldn’t even bring herself to look away, her eyes frozen in terror on the demon. With shock that was quickly washed away by fear, she realised there was a flood of water on her cheeks. She must be crying, she thought absentmindedly, still transfixed by those horrifying eyes.

With what felt like a physical snap, all the tension and threat from the room suddenly disappeared, and the dark purple aura that had slunk from the demon disappeared like reverse lightning. “You’re crying.” He rumbled, standing up straight suddenly. “I…did I scare you?” Gilda’s mind stalled. Of course she was bloody scared! “I – ah. I didn’t...” Gilda finally managed to look around at the other people present. Everyone looked more than shaken, and several people were shaking. Gilda was surprised to notice tears on the cheeks of one of the men sitting across from her.

The only one who didn’t look terrified was Ahearn, who was bright red and was grasping desperately for a sword that wasn’t there.
“I’m very sorry everyone.” The demon continued, Gilda’s attention snapping back so fast she got whiplash. “I did not intend to terrify you, I merely intended to scare you into working together. I realise I may have, in fact, harmed rather than helped that and you have my sincerest apologies.”

Gilda couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, let alone what she was seeing. The terrifying demon had, before her eyes, transformed. Ok, so he was still huge and menacing and bedecked in armour, but his whole body language had shifted. He looked…abashed? Embarrassed? Nervous? Gilda was almost certain what she was seeing was an optical illusion, there was no way something so intimidating could look so clearly shy.

“It’s ok.” Gilda found herself saying before she’d even realised what was coming out of her mouth. WHAT IN THE GODS WAS SHE DOING. She could feel the stares of the others too, especially the other women that she’d so wanted to impress, and currently wanted nothing more than to melt into the ground. “It’s just culture shock, right? You thought you were going about things the right way, but people reacted not at all how you expected them too. That’s not your fault. Y – you scared me but –” Gilda sniffed, trying at the very least to make herself look presentable “ – I can forgive you. I don’t know how many people I upset calling them ‘Elder’ when it was a term of respect in my home. I sure wish some of them’d forgive me.”

Gilda realised her eyes had dropped down into her lap, and briefly glanced up at the demon. He was looking back at her, his whole position identical from where he had started. Ah shoot. That’s not a good sign. Gilda’s face was now properly burning as her eyes flew back to her lap, not even wanting to see the glares she must be getting from the other people at the table. She wished she had the confidence to get up from her seat and leave the room in the disgrace she deserved, but found herself instead welded to her seat.

“She’s right, I guess.” A lyrically accented voice said from across the table. Surprise more than anything caused Gilda to look up at the man who was defending her. A little older than her, and stick-thin with long, delicate fingers, his face was very pale and framed by a mass of messy black curls. “It’s not really your fault that you’re used to doing things very differently to us. We’ve just got to treat you how we’d like people to treat us when we mess up, if you get what I mean.”

“I cannot BELIEVE you lily-livers!” A gruff voice yelled from the other end of the table. “This MONSTER is clearly just some kind of spy or something, and I’m sure as Hell not going to stay here and listen to it brainwash us or whatever. Forget this.” He stood up, his face a mask of fury. He was short, but muscled like a statue with the leather apron and tools of a carpenter on. Without even a second glance he stormed out of the room, leaving nothing but a rude gesture behind him. Two others at the table also stood up, a young, blonde man and a stocky, middle-aged woman. Both sent glares to everyone still seated before storming from the room.

Silence hung in the room for a moment.

“If everyone else is content with staying here and learning, I must thank you profusely. You are too kind in gifting me a second chance.”
“Of course, Brigadier.” The thin man said. “My name is Connor, I was born in Ériu and only just managed to cross the sea to Albion. I’m a potter, although I’m best known for the delicate patterns I paint onto my work.” The emboldened the others sitting around the table to talk too, to share just a little about themselves. Gilda was amazed to find that the people that had been selected, the people who were best at delicate work, only one of them had actually been born in the Stronghold of the Lake, and only two others were born in Albion. Finally, somehow last again, it was Gilda’s turn to speak.
“My name is Gilda, I was born in the Stronghold of the Deep Ditch. I’m a seamstress and I did most of the gold work on the ambaxtoi's uniforms. My embroidery is known for being very detailed.”
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Overall, Sparda was pleased with how the day had gone. It certainly hadn’t started how he had hoped, and scaring off 3 of his new pupils was definitely not the idea, but the others had picked it up remarkably quickly. In fact, Sparda was pretty certain that humans were more naturally suited to magic than demons were. By the end of the day, the 22 people had completely mastered the basics, which was basically all Sparda had to teach them, and were bouncing ideas off of one another that Sparda hadn’t even realised, in some cases, was even possible. They had already moved well past the constructed arrays that Sparda himself needed to use to control magic, instead constructing the arrays in their mind’s eye, creating almost instantaneous spells and, in some cases, enchanting items similar to some of the arcane items in the General’s armoury. One, Vidrna, a chef by trade, had even managed to instil magic into several items, and then promptly baked bread which doubled size when sliced. Sparda had organised that morning for the group to stay with him for another two days before he taught the next cohort, but he more than confident that wouldn’t be needed. Humans were incredible.

There was just one thing that was bothering Sparda. It was their scents. Sparda had realised as he worked with them that male and female people had distinct differences in their scents, similar to how different species of demon smelt differently. By the end of the day, Sparda was almost certain that he was able to tell which was which…except something was wrong. As he sat now with the General, each comparing how they were going with the plan before Cathal turned in for the night, it suddenly clicked. General Cathal had the distinct smell of a woman. And it wasn’t just that he spent time with a woman, not that he had a mate, but it was emanating from him directly. Cathal was looking across at him with a confused expression.

“Brigadier? I finished speaking a while ago now. Why are you just staring off into space?”
"General, you were born a woman.” Sparda blurted before he’d really had time to think.
“How did you know?” The General looked terrified. Shit that was not the reaction Sparda was going for.
“I can smell it. But, uhm, if you want to be called ‘he’ then that’s your decision. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Cathal sighed deeply, interrupting Sparda's ramblings.
"It’s not your fault. I was born a woman, yes, and I lived several years of my life as one, but I saw time and again as Stronghold after Stronghold fell, that I was so much better at military strategies than the nobles that were in charge. So I pretended to be one, but they wouldn’t accept a woman either, so I pretended to be a man while I was at it. I know I’m not a man, but honestly, I’m not a woman either. I don’t even know, I guess the price of military genius is being all wrong inside.” Cathal ended with a huff, collapsing into their chair.

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Sparda replied, more confused than when he had started. “You’re just neither a man or a woman. You can be whatever you feel like. Lots of different demon species have way more than two sexes, and some only have one. There’s as many genders as that and then some. If you feel like you have a gender different to the sex you were born with, then that’s your decision.” “But I’m NOT a DEMON, SPARDA!” Cathal yelled back, a sudden fire within them from nowhere. “I’M HUMAN, AND HUMANS HAVE TWO GENDERS. I DON’T FIT ANYWHERE IN THERE, SO THERE’S GOT TO BE SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME.”
“Maybe physically humans have two sexes, but it doesn’t make sense your minds don’t have the capability to be different genders.”

“You really think so?” Cathal’s fire had gone, looking up now with teary eyes. “I can really be a ‘them’ and still be a person, not a thing?”
“Why not? You said yourself you’re a human. Why would how your mind works affect that?”
“Our society isn’t really accepting of any of that. Hell, I had to pretend to be a man in the first place to be taken seriously as a commander. Apparently, only men have brains capable of understanding armies.”
“That’s…utter nonsense.”
“I know.”

There was a long pause as Cathal gazed at their hands and Sparda carefully put his gaze at anywhere other than the General. “I suppose you might be right. After all, I know personally that well-known things aren't always right. I certainly feel more like ‘them’ than anything else. I…I think I’d prefer if you used that for me, although please don’t tell anyone else. I have to be leading mankind when the Demon Army comes and I can’t guarantee that everyone would accept me. Humanity can’t afford for me to be undermined.”
“I understand, General. But please, don’t leave it too long. You can’t live in hiding forever.”
“I know, Sparda.”

Chapter Text

Most mornings, the minute General Cathal awoke, they were up and ready to attack the day with as much vigour as they would an enemy. However, this morning, they just lay in the bed of their house, the room still unfamiliar as Sparda and the children had taken over their barracks quarters. Naturally, Cathal was well aware that there was more than enough lined up in their schedule for today. Like every single day since they-didn’t-remember-when Cathal had enough lined up for today to last other people a week. But just this once, Cathal allowed themself a moment to reflect on the night before. For someone who liked to have every little thing planned out in advance, last night had been perhaps as far away from what they had planned for as possible. Honestly, how did one debrief before bed manage to end up with a total reconfiguring of their identity? Although, if Cathal was being honest, they had always been like this. When had they started using ‘they’ in their own thoughts? Too long ago now to really notice it.

The General, rolled over in bed, huffing slightly to themself. At the end of the day it didn’t especially matter. No-one except Sparda was going to know that General Cathal was anything other than a born nobleman, chosen to lead by the Gods from birth. They didn’t feel comfortable with this double life. Who would? Unfortunately, for the foreseeable future they didn’t have a choice. With the battle for the stronghold imminent, they needed their every order to be obeyed, and they knew full well people had the capacity to be colossal idiots. The last thing they needed was for their plan to be discarded simply because some idiots thought that they were no longer capable.
That was enough moping. Lying in bed all day was not going to get Cathal’s home ready for the encroaching Demon Army. With a short groan the General rolled out of the deliciously warm collection of furs and stumped over to their collection of identical uniforms.
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The next two weeks passed deceptively quickly. You would’ve thought what were possibly the last two weeks of your life would stick in your memory, but for General Cathal it was just one thing after another, and the flow of time flew down the drain before they had really had a chance to experience it. After all, at the end of it they turned around and realised it was in fact 4 weeks, not two. Their days were filled with running drills with the army, going over plans and preparing the captains, directing each batch of Sparda’s newly trained magicians to places where traps needed to be laid and, in some cases, discussing with them ideas of new spells they had created, and incorporating them into the plan.

In his daily debriefs with Cathal, Sparda eagerly discussed how well his students did, by the end of the first week it was an odd day that didn’t end with 20 new magicians unleashed upon the world. The squads of 10 magicians were now a familiar sight all across the Stronghold and outside it, setting traps and drawing intricate arrays on all available surfaces to create what was certain to be some really nasty deaths of whatever demons were unfortunate to encounter them. The General was honestly surprised to see how quickly the Stronghold adapted to the groups, bearing in mind they were for the most part women, only really 3 squads had men in, but were due just as much respect as a group of ambaxtoi.

As the days continued their march unencumbered, Cathal was pleasantly surprised to find that theirs and Sparda’s plan had become perfectly prepared and there was still no sign of the Demon Army on the horizon. The squads of magicians moved on to creating spells to help the army and, combined with the deployment of every single arcane artifact in the armoury, they felt the soldiers actually had a good fighting chance. In fact, if the numerous cuts, grazes and in some case straight-up injuries were anything to go by, the soldiers had been doing very well. Sparda had taken up training different parts of the army on how to combat demons.

In his latest debrief with them, Sparda had said that he had even started to advise different corps which demons would be best for them to target and was teaching them how to differentiate between them. Cathal had actually sat in on several of those to learn the different types of demons themselves and was, quite frankly, blown away by the different numbers of demons and the sheer force they were facing. Thankfully the soldiers didn’t seem to catch on in the same way, and they positively ecstatic after impaling Sparda with one of their enchanted spears and melting away half of his armour-like skin to reveal a soft, very painful looking under-skin. So maybe Sparda taking quite so many hits wasn’t great right before their upcoming last fight for survival, but apart from that Cathal felt more ready for this fight than they had for any other they had commanded for in their life.
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Ahearn was really not enjoying the direction his life had taken. He could feel it in the air, he could taste it on the breeze, he heard it in the godsdamn speech a couple of weeks ago and seen evidence nearly burn him to death. The final battle was coming. The last great bloodshed between man and demon. The time he could take revenge for everything his life had been and all that those bastards had done to him and his older brother. And what was Soldier Ahearn doing in the run up? Babysitting. He was babysitting these three godsdamn children that the bastard demon had dragged in. And the worse thing? The children were fucking delightful.

Ahearn had tried really really hard to hate these children. He wanted nothing more in his life but to personally fight the obscene monsters that he knew were on his doorstep, and chaperoning three country-bumpkin children around the Stronghold and watching them ooh and ahh over structures that he could’ve owned when younger than them was more than frustrating. And yet they were so sweet.
The girl, Evelyn he begrudgingly admitted, was so polite and so careful with her younger brothers. She looked out for them all the time, gently teaching, giving them all the love and attention they deserved and yet as firm as iron when needed. Watching her almost fuss over the twins but still giving them room to breathe and, most importantly to Ahearn, controlling her own emotions when her fear or anger boiling almost out of reach. It was like watching his brother but this time with an adult’s eye. When he went home at night, he cried for his brother for the first time in a very long time and he wanted to hate Evelyn so much for reminding him but in the end, he couldn’t.

And then there were the twins! Nothing ever seemed to upset them. They had the endless energy of 8-year-olds, and again Ahearn tried so hard for it to frustrate him, to annoy him, but he just couldn’t. The love that shone in their eyes when they looked up at their sister was so endearing. They had the same iron strength as Evelyn too, bordering on stubbornness at times. But they always seemed to put each other first, as close-knit a family as anyone could ever hope to get. It was damned impressive and Ahearn found a part of himself hating the little rush of fondness every time they bounced around excitedly or looked up at a stranger with pure compassionate drive. At night, with eyes still wet from his brother, Ahearn almost wished he had been like them when he was younger.

Almost was the key word of course. He crushed those feelings as far down as he could. He could deal with that after he had his revenge. Not there was going to be an after, he reminded himself yet again. Gods, you look after some children which you definitely do not feel very protective of and suddenly you’re looking forward to the future again. The sky dark outside, Ahearn’s emotions tumultuous from those blasted children, he replayed to himself his life. His brother’s death at the hands of that fucking, inbred bastard of a demon with the skull emblem and the orange pins; Greece burning; Egypt in ashed; Rome crumbling; Carthage aflame; Alexandria devastated; other cities he’d never even bothered to learn the names of all destroyed. All the people that had lived there, gone. This place would be no different. He had to hang on to that, had to remind himself of that. This place was going to be destroyed just like all the others and eventually mankind was going to perish. All that mattered was as many demons died by his hand, especially that red-spiked shit-stain. Ahearn couldn’t let some very very adorable children get in the way of that.

They had a demon protecting them for the gods’ sake! After the three of them had seen every ‘impressive’ sight this place had to offer, Ahearn had been accompanying them more and more to watch Sparda train different parts of the army. He was a good leader, Ahearn bitterly conceded, watching him drill and teach a contingent of bowmen. He had been forced to shield the children when the bowmen then started to use Sparda as a moving target, their arrowheads enchanted with a particularly nasty spell that exploded into a fireball and lots of acid. But then he had been treated to the utter joy of watching the cold, harsh leader façade wash off the demon like paint in a rainstorm as the three children tackled him. Well, as the twins tackled him and Evelyn gave him a careful hug. He then stayed with them long into the evening, doting on them more than any father would. Laughing, playing games, picking them up and overall being kinder than an awful lot of humans Ahearn had seen. It was almost heart warming.

Almost almost almost. If one thing was for certain Ahearn certainly hadn’t softened to a bastard spawn of evil. No siree. Ahearn was more than happy to leave the stupid confusing demon and the stupid confusing kids to look after each other.

And he was not ever again going to think about the not-an-almost that had happened that night. That had set off this totally unneeded reflection on these four enigmas walking in front of him. Sparda had spotted his spear as Ahearn had dutifully stood ready for his superior ambaxtoi. The demon had taken it and, with a quick flick of his wrist and some complicated looking sigils, had given it what Ahearn had recently learnt to be an enchantment.
“Not one of mine.” The Brigadier had rumbled, amusement in his voice as a twin sat on either knee. “One of my students came up with it, oh two weeks ago now. It’ll set any demon on fire that can’t be put out, as far as we can tell, indefinitely. That’s one of the few I didn’t let them test on me.” He had then handed the lethal spear back and returned to the children as if nothing had happened. Ahearn had the tool in his hand that he knew would end Sparda once and for all. It wasn’t his first demon kill, but it’d be his first in a while. The scum was defenceless before him, happily playing the fool tp tease Evelyn over something. Ahearn’s hand was white-hot around the spear handle, sweat dripping from his every pore as he readied to do what needed to be done, take his revenge again as a prologue to what he knew was coming. He was readied all night until Sparda had sent the children to bed and ordered Ahearn home for the night.

So here he was, tears and loathing surrounding him in equal measures because it was an almost godsdamnit. He didn’t care for these bastards, he didn’t want to. They were nothing but a demon and it’s perverted cult and he only ALMOST cared for them that was it. THAT WAS IT. HE DID NOT LIKE A DEMON.
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Sparda was exhausted. Okay, that was not a good place to be with the Demon Army’s attack imminent. But he had done so much in the past 4 weeks. Taught more humans magic that he ever would’ve thought possible, watched them flourish and then watch them take off on their own to create so many different things. Trained so many and became basically a walking tester for whatever mildly terrifying concoction or spell or enchantment or other magical thing they had come up with. That was the main reason he was exhausted. He had thought a missing arm was going to be the worst injury that year. He didn’t think he could take this many wounds and still be standing. Every day there was something new, something horrible.

Sparda didn’t begrudge the humans for it, far from it. Even if every lance through his lung or fire in his veins was agony, he felt only proud that the humans had come up with it, gotten around their flaws, their weaknesses against him. They were in a better place now than he had ever really seen them. He just wished it wasn’t so tiring on his side. He had armour for a reason, he wasn’t designed to be healing every single day and oh it was having an affect alright.

He just wished it wasn’t making him so damn hungry. It wasn’t something the Demon Lord had ever had to deal with before. 700 years and he’d never exerted himself so much he had to eat for necessity. He couldn’t tell anyone, naturally. In his nightly debriefs with General Cathal, their eyes shone like he’d never seen before, and they had laughed together like old friends. Sparda couldn’t break them. Not at such a crucial time. And laughing and playing with Evelyn and the twins, they looked happier than he had ever seen them. Ok, so maybe 5 weeks wasn’t long enough to get to know someone properly. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that when the twins sleepily wished him goodnight, and Evelyn snuggled deep into his arms before she too drifted off that their contentment wasn’t complete. Even Soldier Ahearn seemed to be warming up to him, unless Sparda’s nose had been lying to him the whole night. That wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility, however, as everyone’s scent seemed tantalising at this moment.

“Sparda? Why're you here?” A voice said behind him, making him jump.
“Oh Sam, I’m sorry if I woke you.” Sparda replied, his eyes picking out the boy’s drooping face in the blackness.
“You didn’t. I was just getting a drink. And I’m Robert.”
“Ah, sorry.”
“S’alright. Aren’t you usually out at this time?” He mumbled as he poured himself some water from a water jug in the middle of the room.
“I am. I just finished my nightly meeting with the General.”
“Ah right. Well, I’m going back to bed. Hmmm, hopefully I’ll dream of that fresh bread Evelyn made tonight. I wanna relive it all over again it was so good!” Robert was still talking sleepily to himself as he gulped down his beaker of water before slowly shuffling back to bed. Sparda wasn’t listening however. It was a long shot but perhaps, just perhaps, he could try human food. There wasn’t a reason why not.

He practically ran across the Stronghold, his wings out and helping him glide as he sped, only consideration for the sleeping humans keeping them from humming to life with a roar. It took him only seconds before he was at the kitchens around the back of the barracks. They cooked there every night for the soldiers of the army, apparently it was easier to feed them all at once then force them to fend for themselves when over half the farmers were already drafted into the army. The door in banged against the far wall as Sparda strode in, startling the lone occupant of the room.

“Brigadier! My you made me jump!” The bent, older woman proclaimed, wheeling to face him.
“I’m hungry!” He blurted before he had time to even think over his words. “I – I don’t know how to cook.” The wrinkled women looked him over with a thoroughly unimpressed look.
“And I hear rumours you’re nearly twice my age. AND my daughter spoke so highly of you when she learnt under you.” She muttered under her breath, before saying in a voice that she clearly expected him to hear this time. “Right you are, sir. You are part of the army and therefore entitled to cooked food. Sit down over thataway I suppose.” The old lady flapped her hand towards the other end of the kitchen, muttering to herself, “Teaches me for staying late and cleaning up.”
“Ah – I’m sorry. Erm, can I help at all?” Sparda felt more than a little guilty doing nothing at all with this frail looking woman, even if she wasn't frail tongued. He was responded to with a raised eyebrow.
“I suppose why not. Those claws of yours have got to be as good as any knife in this here kitchen.”

It didn’t take long, the old lady whisking out a loaf of flatbread she admitted she wanted to snifle herself after baking three rounds of them herself. She then put some lumps of cheese and several cuts of ‘offal’ on top, which Sparda dutifully cut as per her instructions, even if he was tutted at the entire way through.
“Right, there you are Brigadier.” She said with a slight sniff. “Now I’m off home!” Sparda didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye to her. He didn’t give himself much of a chance, to be fair, because the minute the food was declared finished it was in his mouth. It certainly didn’t smell as inviting as well, anything he’d eaten before but it tasted surprisingly nice. It certainly wasn’t the finest delicacy he’d ever tasted, mind you, but the rough richness of the bread and the slight ‘pop’ of the meat was pleasant. And most importantly it was filling. Sparda practically ransacked the kitchen after that with little to no remorse. It was so tastey! They had more than just bread too, and it left him without a hole in the place of his stomach. Still wasn’t quite as nice as that bread-cheese combination. Humans needed to extrapolate on that as much as they did with magic, could probably do something there.

Chapter Text

Captain Rhys really couldn’t believe his luck. Because he had a lot of it. And he still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Because, yeah, a lot of luck means a lot of good luck, but also a lot of bad luck. For example, upon joining – read being pressganged – the army after fleeing the destruction of his home he qualified for the Challenger Corps – good luck – and was then placed under the notorious Captain Ahearn – bad luck – and then was confronted with the first ever demon to find the Stronghold of the Lake – bad luck – who turns out to be nice – good luck – and causes Ahearn’s demotion – good luck – and his own promotion in Ahearn’s stead – good luck.

Right now, however, Rhys was really hoping he didn’t have any luck at all, good or bad, because this was getting ridiculous. He and the rest of the Western Contingent of the Challenger Corps were out for morning patrol like usual when they had very nearly stumbled into a camp full of demons. Demons sleeping, demons resting, demons eating. Demons everywhere. If there was ever an ‘oh shit’ moment in Rhys’ life, that was it. Thankfully, they had stopped in a slight crevice of the heathland that was familiar to him, and they had managed to stop at the lip of the hollow before they careened into the demonic camp. Thank goodness for their green uniforms, Rhys reflected, or they would’ve stood out like a black cat in the snow.

Slowly, carefully, silently, Rhys motioned to the others in his contingent, using the quick flashes of hand movements that Ahearn had spent hours drilling into them. Ok, so maybe that one wasn’t an overreaction. The others turned pale and glanced to each other in disbelief. However, Rhys could tell that the expressions on himself and Soldiers Ben and Matthew were more than enough to convince them that they were not messing around and yes, there was a butt-ton of demons just out of sight. The ten of them crept back through the undergrowth, training allowing them to crawl under, over and around heather with the silence of a cat across thick carpet.

Before long, they were away, and up and running back to the Stronghold. Perhaps it was terror, perhaps it was shock, perhaps it was panic. Whatever it was, Captain Rhys knew that they needed to be home and talking to General Cathal as soon as possible. The minute they arrived at the Western gates the guards opened it for them. Soldiers John, Dylan and two others Rhys didn’t recognise nodded at them, and Dylan was about to make a snarky remark when Rhys shut him off.
“Not now, Soldier Dylan. We’re back early for a reason.” Rhys could feel his face setting into something approaching grimness, and Dylan closed his mouth with a snap in response. There was a question in his eyes ‘is this it? Is it happening?’. The Captain could only hope his own eyes stayed ambiguous.

General Cathal was overseeing 10 magicians casting magical shields. Barriers of visible coloured light that rose and fell around the collaborating spellcasters like dye through hot glass. It would’ve been mesmerising if it were not for the borderline terror Rhys was feeling.
“General, Sir!” He called before he had even crossed the parade ground, his skin felt like it was covered in thousands of biting ants as his panic rose like the tide. “Captain Rhys of the Western Contingent of the Challenger Corps reporting, sir!”
“I remember you, Captain.” The general’s eyes travelled across Rhys’ body like a glacier in a single, piercing glance. “You’re back early. What’s happened?”
“Enemy sighted sir. Half a day’s march on the South-Western area of the Heathland. Looks to be the entire army camped for the day by Brigadier Sparda’s description.” Rhys still hadn’t come out of standing to attention, his salute hovering above his eyebrow. Cathal had frozen too, as had the magicians and anyone else who was within hearing range. This is it. This is how the end begins. It hung in the air and permeated everyone’s thoughts at that moment.
“Thank you Captain. We predicted it would be your contingent that found them first, a commendation for returning safely and undetected to the Stronghold with this information. Magician Squad 15, to your positions. Any men on break who heard that, to your Captains. Begin mobilisation! Captain, go and collect the other Challenger Corps and have them back by mid-day at the latest!” Cathal didn’t even wait for a ‘yes sir’, turning and striding away from Rhys even more purposefully than usual. Rhys turned back to his men, an order on his own lips. This was it, so they were going to give it all they had or be damned.
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Sparda was having a most pleasant morning. He wasn’t even angry about the wrath of chefs he had managed to attract after being found as close to asleep as he got in a positively empty kitchen by four furious chefs. The hail of wrath and spoons could’ve phased anyone, Sparda laughed as he ran for his life from a wave of fury.

He had found Evelyn and the twins up earlier than usual. Even Soldier Ahearn had turned up earlier than usual for duty. Sparda was in the best mood he had been in for days, pleasantly satiated and keeping up with the twin’s antics with the energy of a manic two-year-old. Evelyn had laughed, especially as Sparda waited for her cooked breakfast at a table not made for his size, curled up like a parent at a doll’s tea party. Even Soldier Ahearn had been roped in, despite protests he had already eaten, after Evelyn’s firm but knowing smile.

Sparda also found that he had a ‘sweet tooth’ after devouring as many bowls of honeyed porridge as everyone else put together. Looking back, the Demon Lord wished he could’ve commissioned a painting of them all, there and then, crushed together and laughing.

He didn’t though, and the day continued on. Evelyn, the twins and Soldier Ahearn accompanied him to where he was training a contingent of infantry the weak spots of demons they might encounter. Drawing sketches of a Kyklops and pointing out weaknesses in its armour, describing the attack sequence of a Shadow or how to just-please-use-spears on Hell Wraths. It was during this that that utterly pleasant, contented feel was shattered, and Sparda was confronted with an anxious General Cathal.
“General.” He greeted, standing to salute.
“Brigadier. The Demon Army has been sighted. I am putting the plan into action. You are to take your position and be ready for battle.” Cathal smelt anxious, but also a perverse sort of excitement that Sparda recognised all too well.
“Yes, sir!” He barked, turning away from Cathal as they turned to continue with their duties under the plan. “Men! You all heard that. Good luck. Captain, I believe your contingent’s first duty is informing civilians, and getting non-combatants to the Chieftain’s Hall to be protected by a group of magicians.”
“It is indeed, sir!” The Captain replied, his scent grim and knowing. Sparda turned away from him as he began to direct the contingent Sparda had been teaching mere moments before. “Soldier Ahearn.” Sparda turned back to the man who was standing protectively in front of the children. “Take Evelyn, Robert and Sam to the Chieftain’s Hall, then go to the armoury and get yourself properly kitted out, then return to the Western Contingent under the command of Captain Rhys.” Ahearn smelt shocked, although he quickly stamped it out, keeping even his inner emotions under control. Evelyn, by contrast, was an explosion of anger, shock and hurt.
“Sparda! You can’t just send me away! I know the plan, I’ve been with you as you’ve taught the soldiers! I’m NOT sheltering away while there are people that I can help!!”
“Evelyn, I am not having this argument. You are a child, you are not fighting this battle, you are needed with your family. Go with Soldier Ahearn, that is final.” Sparda turned on his heel, not giving Evelyn a chance to disagree again. She was still shouting at him, nothing but anguish rolling off of her. She was afraid, she didn’t want to be apart from him while she was afraid and she felt useless. Or at least, Sparda was pretty sure that was what her emotions were communicating to him.
“Evelyn,” Sparda glanced over his shoulder back at her, “I’m not doing this for any other reason other than that I care for you and I want to protect you. The safest place you can be in under those magicians I trained myself, and when there is a large possibility I could die, I want you to be there. If I’m throwing myself into danger I want to know that I’m not abandoning you, alright?”

Her emotions were still all over the place, but Sparda could at the very least smell the resignation in her. Leaving her was really the last thing he wanted to do, but the cold, calculating part of his brain assured him that the best way to look after her was to protect the Stronghold itself, and that every other person around him was just as deserving of protection as she was. Allowing that to rule him for now, Sparda turned his head away and began to stride towards battle.
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For all Modeus’ life, the most important parts had been the parts that he never saw coming. He had been born with a twin, a brother, younger who he was bound to forever. He had discovered at a young age that he had incredible natural talent with a sword, a fighting style more than unusual in Hell, as was his brother. This talent had attracted the attention of Demon Lord Sparda, the second highest Demon Lord in Hell taking on him and his brother, a pair born from nothing, as pupils. Demon Lord Sparda, who he adored and spent every moment devoted to, had been defeated and brought under the control of Emperor Mundus.

Mundus had declared war on the entirety of mankind. Demon Lord Sparda had abandoned him for a random human he had stumbled across that day, leaving him nominally in charge of his vast army. This anointing of Modeus had done nothing, and probably half of the total Demon Army, all the demon’s under Sparda’s control, had fragmented. Chaos had erupted and it had taken weeks and a lot of political and literal in-fighting to finally wrangle them back under control. Which had left Modeus and Baul with barely even half of Sparda’s army under their control. Just for once, Modeus wished something predictable could happen to him.

At least the current Stronghold attack was going normally. The Demon Army arrived early in the night, having made good headway the night before when they made camp. It had taken embarrassingly long for Lord Phantom, the current holder of second most powerful Demon Lord after Sparda’s ‘death’, to notice that a squadron of flambats had not returned from scouting, and therefore working out that some humans capable of fighting must be that way. Pretty competent to take out an entire squadron.

Modeus was taking a quiet moment as the army prepared for its traditional 3-day intimidate, watching an owl hunting. The natural creatures of the Human World fascinated Modeus, although he would never admit it to the other demons. In Hell there were just demons, every single one intent on somehow fighting every other demon in existence. Everyone was so caught up in a never-ending dick measuring contest. This little owl though, as it hovered silently above what ever plant this was, it’s silver-white feathers glinting softly in the moonlight, was intent only on itself. Another owl swooped in like a snow flurry, gliding expertly, and landed in a nearby bush to watching the hunting owl, which in response stopped hunting and alighted beside the new one. They nuzzled there for a moment, before taking off again with incomprehensible grace, like two ghosts wheeling through the starlight together. Their one seemed at all bothered with anything but the other. It was a peace Modeus desperately ached for, and knew he would never achieve.

Sighing, Modeus forcibly removed his gaze. He could spend all night marvelling at the natural systems of the human world and it’s infinite depth when compare to his home, but he couldn’t afford to with yet another massacre to carry out.
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That night had passed slowly, Modeus for the most part watching the chaos coming from the Stronghold. It was to be expected really, the Demon Army encircling your defences in the middle of the night was going to send anyone into a panic. Raised voices and frantic torches filled the night as the humans within hurried this way and that with seemingly no plan, shouts and screams were heard and mocked by all the Demon Army. A few pot shots had been exchanged, but for the most part the demons were more than happy to watch the humans’ alarm.

By the time the sun had come up, many of the lesser demons had exhausted themselves, and were bedding down for the day. Modeus himself didn’t sleep, and thankfully didn’t suffer the terrible daytime sight that afflicted his master, and so had full view as the pile of sleeping Blades and Assaults was hit with what looked like a bolt of concentrated magic and dissolved before his eyes. Shock coursing through him, he leapt to his feet, glancing around at what should have been a languid, day-time collection of sleeping and resting demons, to see utter carnage. A rain of human weapons and spells was coming down on the army like a tsunami.

Modeus grabbed his sword from beside him, deflected a couple of arrows away from him into a couple of unfortunate Marionettes, noted that the arrows caused the unlucky demons to burst into an unnatural, oily flame, then dashed away to try and find his brother. It didn’t take long, their link drawing him irresistibly like a spider on a web. He saw plenty of carnage as he ran, the hail of spells and arrows and the occasional javelin not letting up in the slightest.

Modeus only dared to come out from cover to look at the Stronghold once, and was greeted with perhaps the most terrifying sight of his life. The high, sloping banks of the Stronghold contained a veritable volcano of magic, spewing out spells that flew up and over before crash landing amongst the sea of demons and demon parts, staining the sky with arches as they glowed, leaving trails behind them like violent comets. Conversely, the very tops of the banks was peppered with archers, their hands a blur even to Modeus’ eyes as they drew and loosed arrows faster than many skilled demons could manage. It was no wonder that as Modeus ran the rest of the distance the number of demon carcasses began to outnumber those still living. A quick glance of the battlefield didn’t show any of Lord Sparda’s officers near, however, which Modeus wondered was a good sign or not. He certainly wouldn’t have complained to having Beowulf or Nevan nearby to help him fend off some of these attacks. He hoped it meant they were still alive. Gritting his teeth, Modeus readied himself to run back out into the downpour of attacks.

He found his brother soon after, commanding a squad of Baphomets to cast as large a shield as they could. So far it was going well, giving a good reprieve both to the Demon Lord and the lesser demons that had clustered around him. A collection of Frosts were even aiding the Baphomets, their ice powers providing energy if not finesse
“Brother,” Baul greeted, nodding his head slightly. Modeus moved to reply but was interrupted by a sultry voice behind him.
“Hello boys! Our Lord and Master Emperor Mundus has called all the generals to him. He says that this will not go unanswered. You’d better come quickly.” The voice purred seductively in their ears, although both brothers turned to face it’s owner with a definite disgruntled look.

They were greeted by what appeared to be a naked human woman. A naked human woman about twice the size she should be. Long black hair whipped around behind her in a manner that looked nothing like hair and more like a tail emerging from her head, and very deliberately obscured nothing of her body. Two penetrating, entirely blue eyes looked knowingly at the male demons from a face that otherwise would’ve looked human. Except it was too perfect. Malphas was well known as a demonic sorceress of great power, and she had constructed this body for herself to, in her words, mock humanity. She revelled in her naked form being too complete, her smooth, alabaster skin was too white, too unblemished. She was perfect, by human standards of beauty, to the point of disgust.
“Of course, Lady Malphas.” Baul growled a reply. Malphas barely even seemed to notice as she sauntered away from the pair, swinging her rounded hips as she went. He supposed it was better than Mundus drawing them via their presence. That always stung and left his own presence smarting.

Chapter Text

Malphas was furious at what was happening. Humans were not supposed to be able to do anything like this. They were supposed to be her little playthings to fuck or fuck over as she saw fit. They were not supposed to be able to wipe out most of her own personal army in a matter of moments. Naturally, Malphas would never let anyone know she was spitting feathers, that would ruin her Demon Lady appeal. But she was sure as Hell going to cause never ending agony to whoever was at fault for humans learning magic. And learning magic to well.

Having rounded up the last of Mundus’ generals from around the camp, Malphas made her way back to the statue the Emperor was using to communicate with them, safely sheltered of course under the most powerful shield spell she knew. Honestly, they were getting decimated, and he still wouldn’t grace them with his pleasant. She really fucking hated him sometimes.
“What did I miss, boys?” She purred as she entered the assembly of Demon Lords, ensuring all eyes were on her ravishing form, her tail flicking backwards and forwards behind her in the guise of human hair.
“Malphas.” The marble statue of the Emperor cut her play at attention dead in a second. “We are going to mount an attack on the Stronghold. Their gates are but wood and will quickly fall to our might even now. Abigail, you are inclined to high offense. Use your forces to begin returning attacks. I want every thrown attack we have coming down within that Stronghold’s walls. Make sure when the rest of the army breach those banks, they find nothing but ash. This will also coincide with an assault directly on the Stronghold.” The statue hesitated, holding every Demon Lord in suspense. No-one wanted to be leading that attack, directly under Abigail’s assault. She really wasn’t one to show restraint, even for allies. “Malphas. You were late, you can be early this time.” With that said, Mundus departed the statue, leaving them leaderless once more.

If Malphas had been furious before, she was incensed now. Why on earth did she have to be the one that was sent in under Abigail’s attack? It wasn’t like it was going to kill Malphas herself, but she had worked hard on this body and really didn’t want to leave it behind so soon. Plus, it would cut down a lot of her forces even further from where they must be depleted from the humans’ attack. At least they had stopped now, she reflected as she sauntered out into the carnage. No amount of seething frustration was going to change her unflappable exterior.

She reached out with her presence, stretching it thin like a membrane out across the entire camp. It certainly wasn’t encouraging how many presences she felt pressing back against hers, although the majority of the harder hitters were all still registering. All of her officers were there as well, now that was good news. With practised ease, Malphas coiled her presence around theirs before giving it a sharp tug. It made it impossible for them to ignore her, not to immediately come to her, and she knew from experience it was very uncomfortable. The Demon Lord always made sure her tugs were as sharp and painful as possible.

Before long, Malphas’ officers were assembled before her. Artemis seemed to have taken a bit of damage that was quickly healing, but the others seemed perfectly fine.
“Thank you for joining me, ladies.” Malphas purred, leaning backwards on a couch she had enchanted from the floor. “I have been given a very special mission from our lord Emperor Mundus, and I expect you to fulfil it to the very best of your abilities. Am I understood?” She didn’t even wait for a sign of assent before she continued. They would understand or she would punish them so far, they would wish they were dead.

“We are going to be the demons to break this Stronghold’s walls, and I want it done gloriously and stylishly. Artemis, you are going to take the Beelzebubs that are left and the Abysses to attack the Western Gate. Aphrodite, you will have the Hell Lusts and the Assaults to attack the Eastern Gate. Hestia and Demeter, you will take the Southern Gate with my Demonochoruses and Fallen. I will take the northern gate. Now listen here, I want all of you to only take your gate after you have felt mine collapse, and I want you to attribute my fighting as the highest factor to why we obliterated this Stronghold. If I even catch wind of the slightest rumour of you bitches glory hogging, I will torture to beyond pain.” Malphas paused a second, letting her all too real threat hang in the air. “Alright then, get to it.”
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By the time Malphas had collected her soldiers, her Furys and Frosts, Abigail was just about ready to begin her assault. Malphas had been amazed the higher Demon Lord had stooped so as to co-ordinate an attack with her, and there was a specialised message spell between the two Demon Lords ready and waiting. She also had her presence carefully tethered around each of her officers, so the assault could go off without a hitch.
“Malphas.” Abigail growled down the spell. “I’m beginning…NOW!” With a roar, Abigail’s signature blast arched out towards the pitiful human settlement. Simultaneously, Abigail’s forces fired. Huge catapults, trebuchets and demons began a rain of fire, acid, demons, and pure energy. Malphas yanked on the presence of her officers and ordered her own forces forward, the lesser demons screeching and dashing forwards.

A magic shield erupted from the ground around the Stronghold, a huge golden semicircle rising rapidly to enclose the humans. WHAT?!? Malphas managed to bring her forces screeching to a halt, some of the Frosts were not quick enough and impacted into the shield’s golden surface with a dry crackle, dissolving into mildly cold goop in front of her. Gazing up, Abigail’s assaults were doing little better, the fire balls and spells slamming into the shield like human heads onto Malphas’ fist, the explosions of the two energies meeting sending out shockwaves. Even Abigail’s personal beams splashed against the shield to little effect, the yellow energy hitting the golden glow with an enormous clang, like the ringing of a humungous bell and showering white hot energy onto the demonic troops below. This was not what was planned.

Malphas reopened the messaging spell, only to be met with furious screeching of swear words. Even as she listened, Abigail let forth another, even more volatile beam that similarly exploded outwards on contact with the shield. Malphas closed the messaging spell and instead reached out her presence to her officers. They were having similar problems, she noted even as her own Frosts failed to even make headway on the shield. All except Artemis. Interesting. Casting a quick teleportation spell, Malphas found herself at her officer’s side.
“What’s happening?” Malphas ensured that her unflappable seductress mask stayed firmly in place even when talking to the grey-skinned, winged demon.
“General! I saw the shield go up, but they’ve missed a section at this gate. Clearly humans are inferior spellcasters compared to your majesty.” Artemis was right. Right around the meagre wooden staves of the Western gate the golden shield ran ragged, the otherwise pristine golden light bleaching into a thin film before disappearing altogether.

“Excellent.” Murmured Malphas. “I can show up Abigail something wonderful.” Another sharp yank with her presence was all that was needed for Malphas to summon the rest of her forces here. She made especially sure not to reopen her messaging spell, after all Abigail was too stupid to understand Malphas’ advanced spell crafting. Before long, the entirety of Malphas’ forces were arranged in front of her. With a close, careful wave of her hand, they were swarming into the Stronghold, lines upon lines of demons scrambling over each other to cram through into the tiny, human-sized gap of the Stronghold gates before spilling out into certain carnage beyond. Hestia was leading them, her flaming body spurting out in excitement before the kill, and Malphas kept a close hold on her presence while admiring the continued, and useless, assault Abigail was giving to the shield.

Suddenly, Hestia’s connection went dead. The Demon Lord flinched visibly, attracting the attention of her nearby officers. Morbidly curious, Malphas sought out her presence, wondering what she was doing to get her so excited as to entirely cut her off from her master, but she was met with only emptiness. No, no. That wasn't possible. That couldn't have happened. There wasn't another option, though. Unbelievably, Hestia was dead.

Malphas blanched, unable to feel more through the shield. This was not good at all, clearly the humans that were through there were better than expected. Head still reeling with possibilities, Malphas motioned to Demeter and Aphrodite to begin a second assault with the remainder of her troops. Shit, if Hestia was dead then there probably wasn’t much hope for her army either. Fuck fuck fuck. Without an army, Malphas would struggle to manipulate the other Demon Lords. This was the last thing she needed, throwing away her soldiers at some goddamn humans.

Malphas kept a close contact with both of her officers as they went further into the Stronghold. Already, the connection was starting to grow thin as the shield stopped Malphas’ presence from entering. Damnit, those human spellcasters were actually doing a halfway decent job. With a snap that left Malphas with whiplash, the connection broke again, two more of her officers dying. FUCK FUCK FUCK. All that was left of her army was now Artemis and herself. FUCKK!! This was not how Malphas wanted to go out as a Demon Lord, ruined by some pathetic humans.

Rage filled Malphas, a greater rage than perhaps she had ever felt before in her life, and her deep blue magic crackled around her, warping reality under pure power.
“My Lady?” Artemis asked, gazing up at her Mistress with pure black eyes, her fanged mouth opening wider than should’ve been possible in shock.
“I think it’s time I should these humans what a real lady can do.” Malphas’ seductive purr was twisted into a deep growl. “You first, Artemis.” If Malphas was going to go into where the rest of her officers died, she was going to send someone more expendable than her first.

The minute the two demons were through the gate, they were confronted with the usual human collection of mud-wall houses. Squat, rough and miserable looking. Artemis tensed beside Malphas, summoning seven of her purple arrows before sending them rocketing towards the pathetic human buildings. However, instead of exploding in a collapse of mud and straw, there was a round like a ringing of a bell and Artemis’ arrows burst into a shower of purple energy against yet another shield.
“WHAT?!?!” Artemis growled in frustration.
“They’ve created a maze for us darling.” Malphas was starting to believe that perhaps entering this settlement was a mistake. Surely it would’ve been better to just open a portal to Hell and lie low for a while than die to some wretched humans.
“I’ll kill them ALL.” Artemis hissed, stalking forward. She summoned another set of arrows, casting a violent violet light onto her wings. The pair were immediately confronted with a T-junction in the golden shield. With a brush of her hand, Malphas sent Artemis away down the right-hand one. Her officer gave her a serious push back with her presence, but Malphas made sure to yank sharp and hard straight back.

Begrudgingly, the grey-feathered demon went ahead, her eyes flicking this way and that, with Malphas following cautiously enough behind that she was more than ready to open a portal if needs be. The two demons made it to several more splits in the pathways, with again Malphas forcing Artemis down one or the other, the tension rising moment on moment as Malphas’ presence stretched thin, struggling to keep her in contact with beyond the humans’ shield, before shattering like molten sugar.

Another split in the path, this way in three directions. They were on their own, and Malphas was beginning to panic, realising her rage had really led her to a bad decision. Artemis glanced back at her, and the Demon Lord would be damned before she showed any sign of weakness even before her subordinates. She gestured again, straight ahead. The pair carefully made their way down the pathway, every part of Malphas scanning for anyone, anything. Any kind of movement.

SHIT.

It was a dead end.

Both demons turned on their heels to go back, but too late. A shield slammed up behind them, hemming them in. Malphas turned again, looking for a way out, a weakness, only to watch as Artemis triggered a dormant spell in the ground. A pale green array, circles nested within each other spinning slowly and festooned with sigils that certainly weren’t Demonic, appeared beneath the demon’s winged feet as the spell activated. She watched with perverse fascination as a spell she most definitely did not recognise got to work, ravaging her subordinate.

Every single feather from across Artemis’ body fell as she writhed and screamed, black blood spurting from multitudinous lacerations across her body. Slowly, the cuts widened and spread as the demon continued to shudder and shriek before the entirety of her skin was stripped from her. Then, in a small explosion of green and magenta light, the demon ruptured, her body blasted away to nothing as she shrieked a final death nell.

Artemis’ soul fell from her, a magenta glowing orb that sent out rays of the demon’s signature light. Malphas reached forward, if she couldn’t make use of her officer, she could at least enslave her Devil Arm. However, before she could even touch the soul that by all rights belonged to her, a portal to Hell opened beneath it, Artemis’ soul falling into it. There was only one demon who would stoop so low.

“Machiavelli!” Malphas roared, the last of her sexy façade sliding from her like mud. “You pathetic bastard of a scavenger! GIVE ME BACK MY OFFICER!!”
“M – M – Malphas-s-s. I t-t-think you’ll f-f-find th-th-that I’ll make m-m-much better us-s-se of her th-th-than you.” The filthy bastard’s stuttering voice replied, two stick-thin three-jointed limbs ending in long, twitching, deft hands, emerged from the portal just long enough to cradle Artemis before retracting. The portal closed before the Demon Lord could do anything about it.

That was IT. First her entire army dies and then that BASTARD of a PATHETIC WEAKLING Machiavelli steals her officer. She didn’t care if he made the best weapons around, she was going to kill something and kill something NOW. Malphas turned, her magic pooling around her in deep blue swirls, ready to demolish this fucking shield.

Suddenly, she heard a shout above her. Glancing up, just above the top of the shield-maze, was a group of humans, bedecked in armour and carrying javelins, appeared. Before Malphas could fire some of her formidable magic at them they shot first, launching a volley of javelins towards her. She expected to brush them off, they were only wood and iron after all, but the tips had been enchanted and with a howl Malphas felt several of them bite into her beautiful body and begin eating away at her flesh like acid.

Screaming with rage, she threw everything she had at the fucking humans, sending several assaults of concentrated magic at them, enough to level this fucking place to the ground in a devasting storm. The humans ducked away at the last minute, their golden shield raising further from the ground to absorb Malphas’ attack, it’s gilded surface buckling and resounding with shockwaves. The sorceress screamed again, there was no way these fucking humans were winning against HER.

But again, the javelins came down at her from above, and although she raised her own shield of deep blue magic it just wasn’t enough against the sheer number and angles, she was getting bombarded against. Again, the javelins sliced through her, this time enchanted to make her organs sear with pain. As if a thousand ants were crawling crawling all over and biting, they scorched and stung her, and she could feel her liver physically fall apart within her. Another one of those attacks and it was all over. SHIT. SHIT. FUCK THIS FUCK THEM.

In a last, desperate attempt, Malphas opened a portal beneath her, dropping through a pocket dimension to then appear again somewhere. She didn’t care where, she needed out. Right now. Even as she fell, the Demon Lord could feel those spells continue to act upon her body. She needed to do something NOW.

She landed, her legs crumpling below her into ash. Agony was coursing through her. FUCK FUCK FUCK. Excruciatingly she crawled, casting her hands about her as her vision dipped in and out with the pain, desperate for anything. She felt it then, feathers beneath her fingertips. Whatever, it would do. Abandoning her perfectly crafted body, Malphas forced her soul into whatever it was beneath her fingers. Slowly, she felt her new body warp and contaminate beneath her. Whatever this thing had been corrupted in the presence of her soul, the feathers shedding from it as it grew to accommodate her. Whatever, it was stopping her from dying that was all Malphas cared about. Two legs, good. Two arms? No, they used to be wings but now were useless as Malphas’ soul changed the nature of the thing she now inhabited innately. Jointed spines and talons formed on the thing’s ex-wings as she continued to grow. The remains of a tail stayed too, the feathers growing and fraying under the stress and quite frankly how close to dying the Demon Lord was. Eyes? Shit. It had no eyes. She was too weak to do anything though. Her magic was working like crazy as it was just to formulate this thing – a baby chicken the thing’s memories provided before it died forever – into something vaguely habitable for her. A mouth opened below it’s beak, filled with teeth but still no eyes. DAMNIT.

Nothing else for it, Malphas pooled her magic again together before forcing something with eyes out of the beast’s back. She drew distantly on the memories of the perfect body she had been forced to abandon as it formed from her magic. And at last, Malphas opened her eyes. All three sets of them? Three heads. Three arms. Two breasts. A huge, hideous, bird-like lump of a monster below her.

Malphas shrieked. What WAS this?!? She was Malphas, the sexiest Demon Lord, she prided herself on surrounding her with the greatest and most provocative things in Hell. What was this THING, this abominable body she was using? It was GROSS. Malphas didn’t care if she died at this point, she wanted out of this slap-dash body NOW. It was AWFUL. Casting around furiously, she looked for her old body. It was moments away from death but at least she was stunning. Too late, it was nothing but ash.
“NO NO NO.” She squawked, her voice grinding against her ears like ice down the back of her neck. Anything. Anything. ANYTHING.

Nothing. Malphas couldn’t even remove herself from this hideous body, her magic still busying itself trying frantically to keep this unsuited body containing her soul. She was starting to realise it was going to be taken up doing that forever. Hopeless and shameful, with nothing else left to do, Malphas opened a portal to Hell, even that draining her magic alarmingly. It opened to a no-man’s-land between Mundus’ and Argosax’s domains, and there she intended to skulk until she found something to do about this HIDEOUS body of hers. Defeated, she left the battlefield forever.

Chapter Text

General Cathal had surveyed the ongoing battle for the majority of the day, and honestly, they were proud. The opening volley had caused far more carnage among the Demon Army than they had hoped, and the stench of demon blood now permeated the battle ground in way that was disgusting and unfamiliar but, to them at least, deeply satisfying. The response from the Demon Army was disappointing, they had hoped more demons would have been caught in the labyrinth that they and Sparda had meticulously constructed, filled with an inescapable number of traps and winding passageways.

It had worked admirably of course. 20 magicians had constructed, as it was explained to the General, one enormous shield that wound and curled in on itself to create the maze. They sat in a circle in the centre of the Stronghold, arms interlinked as more and more shining golden arrays appeared on the ground around them, before becoming three-dimensional and interlocking with each other, until the air around the magicians was saturated with a web of golden lines and words in a constantly changing network that thrummed with power.

Cathal had spent their time surveying the demons’ destruction as more and more hoards had screamed through the scrawl of pathways only to perish in increasingly horrible ways; before returning to their house to look over the map. Sparda had been flying between different locations, less frantically after the Demon Lord he identified as ‘Abigail’ had stopped pounding on the outermost shield. The loud, deep drone of his insectoid wings becoming familiar in their deafening to Cathal as he hurried across the battlefield. At last, the day came to a close as planned. While they had killed less than hoped in the web within the Stronghold, their initial bombardment of the Demon Army had caused many more casualties of what Sparda referred to as canon-fodder, and Cathal was hopeful for the coming day.

They took one last debrief with Sparda and a couple of captains before they took the rest for the night. Already there had been some exchanging of pot-shots, reported Captain Sloane, but for the most part the demons had learnt and were not going to enter into their trap again. ‘Malphas’ was apparently the Demon Lord that had died within the labyrinth, Sparda reported, and her death would be enough to scare off any of the others.

After a few more exchanges, and the agreement that the night would most likely be quiet, Sparda offered to go and spy on the demons’ camp and perhaps learn what Mundus’ next move was. The General quickly shut that plan down, however. There was no way Sparda’s return as Mundus’ second-in-command would go unremarked upon and they would not sacrifice what was essentially their biggest hitter for a reconnaissance mission.

Cathal slept well, surprisingly, and woke early as they always did. Another debrief with Sparda revealed the night had been as peaceful as they had hoped for, and it was finally time for the final part of their plan. Make or break time. They knew it was all leading up to this, they had known this was the climax 4 weeks ago, but that didn’t help the sick feeling that was pooling in the human’s stomach.
“General,” Sparda was as subdued and, they suspected, nervous as Cathal was. “Good luck.”
“Same to you, Brigadier. May your heart be forever brave, may you be strong and courageous, as you fight with all your might, for a legacy through the ages.”
“For the flags of your fathers and the freedom of our sons, may we return home safely when the battle is won.”

The two of them went together to where the Army was amassing. It was done stealthily, as they had already killed the majority of the demons that would be asleep during the day and the last thing they wanted to do was alert their enemies that an attack was about to begin. Regardless, Cathal could tell from the noise alone that the Demon Army was subdued during the daytime. Perfect. Captain Benjamin of the Charioteers was ready, his flashing sword catching the morning sun and casting beams of light along the black tunic of the Charioteers. A single signal from Cathal was all it took, the chariots flying away under a silent cry from their leader. The golden shield opened before them like the curtain to a stage and with a mighty bellow of the carnyx* the battle had begun.

Already sounds of carnage were making their way back to the General, but they couldn’t concentrate on that now. Another signal of the carnyx beside the General and the 5 Captains of the Spearmen were moving forward into the wake left by the chariots. Heavily armoured and dressed in yellow, under all that chainmail, they moved as a phalanx, a walking shield wall of magically enhanced rectangular shields and lots of very spikey spears.

Fewer Charioteers returned from the initial assault than Cathal would have liked, but already Captain Benjamin was marshalling them together, readying them for another wave of assaults on the frantically assembling demon ranks. Great, they had caught them in down moments, Kyklopses and Behemoths stumbling over one another to form ranks under their respective Generals. The Charioteers rode again, their swords flashed as they turned in the air, the drivers of the horses manoeuvring with intense skill to allow the swords men the best changes as severing the Behemoths’ necks and slicing through the Nobodies. They turned again, another stretch readied for the Spearmen to advance into, which they did, the infantry behind them, ready and waiting.

However, Cathal realised with a sense of dread, the demons were forming up quicker than expected. Already on the horizon they could see a squadron of Lusachia advancing towards them, their mouths moving at a ferocious rate as they recited their wicked spells. Cathal tried to signal to Benjamin not to advance, not another attack, but it was too late. Already the cavalry was charging. Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die.

Too late too late too late. The ice spell was cast, a circle forming around several of the chariots which the corresponding shard of ice struck to splinters. Horses reared and men were thrown to the ground. Some were lucky, some were not. Cathal cursed under their breath, this was too early in the battle to lose the chariots. Captain Benjamin was trying his best to corral the remaining horses, but it was for the most part in vain as his contingent scattered around him.

Damn it. Cathal, quick on their feet as ever, turned to the archers and signalled. Where the cavalry couldn’t mow down demons, the enchanted arrows certainly would. A volley was loosed into the Lusachia, halving their numbers in one fell swoop. Another and another. This was going well. The spearmen were advancing again, making room behind them for the disparate cavalry to recollect and probably return to the safety of the Stronghold’s shield before returning to the battle.

Another corral of demons was collecting before the army of Mankind on the battlefield. Cathal’s brain crackled for a moment before they placed them in Sparda’s descriptions. Gigapedes. Seven of them. Oh shit. Already they looked like pincushions with arrows, although even the ones Cathal recognised, and some incredibly damaging spells was only slowly them down. Before their eyes, one of the seven dissolved into a puddle of goop, only for the puddle to be splashed through by its advancing teammate. Like a wave, they broke against the shield wall.
“BRACE!” One of the Captains of the Spearmen yelled, their phalanx holding strong. The Gigapedes readied again, and Cathal motioned to the infantry to be ready. Again, it was earlier than expected but when the Spearmen eventually broke, the infantry needed to be ready for the chaos that would ensue.
“BRACE!” The Captain cried again as the Gigapedes again flung themselves forwards. Again, they were beaten back, another of their number melting into smoke under the continuing salvoes of the archers. The infantry was in position now, their spear ready and forward like a formidable hedgehog. Cathal could only hope it was enough.
“BRACE!” The shield wall buckled this time, one of the Spearmen falling backwards as his shield crumbled under the assault. His comrades moved into the gap even as a third Gigapede fell away to nothing.
"BRACE!” A huge clang and a clatter and it was over. The shield wall crumpled, Gigapedes cresting over the fallen Spearmen only to be met with infantry. A final blare of the carnyx resounded, the Spearmen were in the mud allowing the rest of the demons to advance into the ranks of infantry and before Cathal’s eyes chaos fell. Humans and demons grappled and fought with one another, contingents of infantry and rushed together groups of Spearmen desperately battling the collection of animalistic monsters. Cathal motioned one last time to Sparda, giving him leave to join the chaos of battle, before they themselves charged into the fray with a terrifying war cry.
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Modeus and Baul, together, on the battlefield. It was the best feeling. It made him sick. They were further in touch than anyone else could ever hope to be, they were each other’s opposite and perfect pair and they could cleave through humans like butter. Together, it often seemed like there was no force in this world or Hell that could stop them, able to move in perfect time with one another, knowing each other’s attacks before even they knew themselves. Together, they were as perfect as they could hope to be.

And it made Modeus sick. These humans, he could see the intelligence in their eyes. When they screamed, it wasn’t the squawk of many of his own soldiers, the scream of a mindless beast that barely even understood the concepts of pain. No, these humans were complex and different. Sometimes, when Modeus caught sight of one tending another’s wounds or holding another as they wept, he felt they were better than demons. But there was always his brother, always his own burning need for power that kept snatching at him, tugging him ever further into their blood.

This battle was different, however. Normally, Modeus and his brother could wipe the floor with any humans that came their way, cutting through ranks and bodies like a stone through water, but today the humans were giving as much resistance as ice to that stone. It was expected, naturally. The humans had already nearly halved the Demon Army, taking out basically all the lesser demons, but Modeus wasn’t quite expected this.

Baul and he were giving it everything, he was guiding their movements with grace and dexterity, Baul charging them with raw power that left other Demon Lords quaking. But the humans had shields that often deflected them, and they were quick, not as quick as Modeus but quick enough to catch him off guard. The spears and arrows hurt when they hit, eating away as his chitinous flesh or burning his veins like fire, and the spells they sent flying were as varied as they were painful. As the day carried on, Modeus was realising that demon kind was going to loose this battle for the first time since Emperor Mundus began this war.

It was as he was realising this that Modeus noticed something that would change his life forever.
“Brother look!” He cried, while shielding his other half from a volley of arrows. “Lord Sparda has returned to us!” It was true. A fair distance away from them on the battlefield stood the unmistakable figure of their Lord and Master, his horns dashed with blood as his wings flared. Glory-filled as always.
“You’re right!” Baul replied, his face breaking into a grin that warmed Modeus’ heart for the first time since this battle had begun. Without having to say anymore, the pair turned as one, abandoning the humans they had been fighting to try and make their way towards their Lord. However, the closer they got the more apparent it became that Lord Sparda was surrounded by demon corpses, not human ones. A co-incidence, probably.

As soon as they neared him, they would see the blood that stained a large part of his armour was human, as it had been in every other battle they had fought together in. At last, the pair were close enough to see Lord Sparda in all his glory, just in time to see Devil Sword Sparda extend out into a scythe as his own Lord swung it round, perfectly bisecting an Angler-Toad**.

Holy shit.

Lord Sparda was a traitor. Lord Sparda had abandoned demon kind. The Legendary Dark Knight, greatest swordsman in all of Hell, Emperor Mundus’ second-in-command was currently cutting through higher level canon-fodder with all the precision and drive he could muster.

Modeus would have died then, staring in shock at his lord, is Baul hadn’t grabbed his shoulder, dragging him downwards from a battery of javelins that soared overhead from where he and his brother lay on the ground, sheltering from the madness around them.
“That was.” Baul breathed heavily, nothing but shock coming from him.
“Yes.”
“He was.”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes. So are you.”
“He’s a traitor.”
“Yes.”
“We need to go. Now.”
“I agree.”

As one, the twin demons rose, the clamour of battle returning the instant they left their little indent in the ground. As if talking telepathically, they ran across the battlefield into the forest they had left 3 days ago, trying desperately not to feel like cowards running from battle. The minute they landed they were in each other’s arms. Their whole world was collapsing around them, there had to be a constant in their perfect balance.

“I cannot believe him.” Baul growled into Modeus’ shoulder, before moving out to hold him at arm’s length. “Lor – Sparda. He’s a traitor! He’s betrayed all of us!” Baul stomped away from Modeus into the trees, leaving deep footprints in the leaf litter. “He’s not our lord anymore, brother. He doesn’t DESERVE to hold the title of Demon Lord like us. I CANNOT BELIEVE him. HOW DARE HE. He makes me SICK. He was protecting those humans? Did you see? There were some of those pathetic snivelling beasts behind him, clutching their twigs and Sparda was PROTECTING THEM.”

Baul continued to stomp across and around the trees, growling and muttering to himself, but Modeus stopped actively listening to his brother. He had heard enough to know what he was saying. His eyes instead were drawn to where Baul’s feet were crashing down, each white armour clad foot was disrupting a nest of dormice in the leaf litter. The terrified mother and 9 babies sprung from the undergrowth, squeaking and clawing about desperately to escape from clomping steps, their eyes wide with terror.

It wasn’t that Modeus didn’t understand why his brother was raging, there was a part of him that was also raging in denial at everything and everyone. But there was a much larger part of himself that sympathised more with Sparda than he dared to admit. He had seen the terror and wonder and understanding in those humans his Lord had been protecting. In many ways, he wished he could’ve gone with Sparda when he left 5 weeks ago, reeking of human nestlings. Then, perhaps, he might find someone who understood what he meant when he felt out of step with all other demons. Even his brother.
“Brother?” Baul’s voice moved Modeus from his reverie. “Are you with me? I know together we can do it, we can surpass Sparda and prove to all demon kind that we are more than just inheritors of his strength and will. We’re better. Together, we will be the greatest swordsman in Hell.”
“No.”

Silence.

“Stop joking, this is serious.”
“I’m not joking.”
“No. I don’t believe you. Modeus. Brother. You can’t be saying you side with a traitor. You can’t be disagreeing with me.”
“I’m sorry brother, but I understand Lord Sparda’s decision and I will not go against it.”
“NO! He’s NOT our Lord! You can’t! You’re MY brother. We’re together on everything. You CAN’T DO THIS. We’re ALWAYS together. You – you CAN’T.” Baul was yelling right in Modeus’ face, but he didn’t react. It felt like he was tearing into pieces as his other half became more and more upset with him, his rage entirely unreciprocated in Modeus’ unmoving face.
“I do. I will.”
“You can’t do this to us! You can’t do this to ME! HOW DARE YOU. YOU BASTARD. If you’re going to join the traitor then you’ll be a traitor too! You filthy low-life!” With a flash, Baul summoned his sword from the ground, swinging it around towards his brother. Modeus felt numb, watching his brother charge towards him, Baul’s white power shooting out from him in great arcs. At the last possible moment, Modeus summoned his own in an identical manner, knocking his brother’s sword away with a single swipe. It flew out of the white demon’s hand and impaled itself into a nearby tree, scaring two woodpigeons that had been sitting in the tree up into the mid-afternoon sun.
“If that is how you feel brother then I will not fight you.” Modeus swung his sword around, impaling it into the earth beneath them. “If you want to become the greatest swordsman in the Underworld then I won’t stand in your way, from this moment forth I’ll never use a blade again. You have already defeated me, brother. But I can’t go on fighting this war anymore. I can’t go forth living a life without honour.” With that, Modeus turned, opening a portal to Hell in front of him.
“DON’T LEAVE!!” Screamed Baul behind him, his voice sending shockwaves through the trees, their bows shaking violently. “DON’T LEAVE ME. I NEED YOU MODEUS PLEASE!” Modeus took one step into the portal, and then another, only his twin tails ticking out through it. “IF YOU LEAVE I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU. YOU TRAITOR. YOU CAN’T DO THIS!!! PLEASE –”

Baul’s howling cut off abruptly as Modeus closed the portal. It must’ve started raining in the Human World because there was a drop of moisture on Modeus’ cheek. With a quick flick, the black demon wiped it away. He still felt oddly numb, as if his other half had sucked all of it out of him into himself. He sighed just once, before opening a portal back to Earth, but in an entirely different place. He stepped out into a pine forest, the near-black trees contrasting against the white snow that festooned the branches and coated the ground.

Recognition crossed through him, they had burnt the settlements of this place maybe 6 years ago, land of the Nordic peoples. Directly in front of Modeus, a huge owl, almost the same size as his torso, landed. It was as white as the snow, except for a few flecked feather tips of black. It gazed at Modeus with two yellow eyes with pin-prick black pupils, something like understanding passing between the pair. He was beautiful in every measure of the word and it stole Modeus’ breath away. He took a step, the untouched snow crunching beneath his feet.

Chapter Text

All the previous day, Evelyn had sheltered with the other children and non-magical women inside the Chieftain’s Hall. Just outside were 10 magicians, ready to lay down their lives and place a shield around the non-combatants. Evelyn couldn’t stand it. She came here for Sparda’s peace of mind, but she couldn’t allow her own conscience to be destroyed by that. All of yesterday the shield protecting the Stronghold had rung like a huge bell under the repeated attacks of the demons, and their screams and shouts of defiance had drifted over from what the others gossiped about as a maze of death.

Now, Evelyn could hear the battle picking up again, away to the East, and she wasn’t going to let her skills go to waste this time. What Sparda didn’t know was that all the while she watched him teach magic, she had been following along and she was more than confident she could look after herself. She had already watched one of her homes burn, she was never going to let another go down.

Slowly she stood, glancing over to where Sam and Robert were sitting beside two boys their age who they had befriended over the past few days. In some ways she wished she could ignore the outside world as they did in their made-up worlds. She glanced up to one of the boys’ mother, a middle-aged weaver named Tara, who gave her a soft smile. Guilt shot through Evelyn momentarily, but she crushed it back down again. If Sparda believed this was the safest place for them to shelter, then it most definitely was. She just couldn’t accept it herself when there was work to be done.

Perhaps that made her selfish, Evelyn thought as she walked nonchalantly through the Chieftain’s Hall towards one of the back entrances. No-one paid her particular mind, who would be stupid enough to leave the safe haven after all, but Evelyn knew that was bound to change when she opened the door to the outside. She took a deep breath, steadying herself and bringing her mind into focus on what she was about to do.

Then, carefully, she envisaged the spell she wanted to cast. It was a variation on the shield spell she was most familiar, but was going to protect herself from light as opposed to weaponry. The array appeared below her feet momentarily, a series of interlocking circles of her soft yellow magic, before a yellow glow encased her like ethereal plate armour. Already, Evelyn could feel the spell tiring her. Just to check, she tapped the closest person on the shoulder, and carefully scooted out of the way as they turned to face her. Perfect, she was completely invisible.

Slinking forward once again, Evelyn grasped the door handle of the Chieftain’s Hall before yanking it open. Gasps were let out and several sets of eyes turned to look at where Evelyn was, her feet already pounding on the ground as she ran from the civilians.

It didn’t take Evelyn long to find the battlefield. She dispelled the invisibility spell as soon as she could, such a complex spell making a serious dent in her stamina that she simply couldn’t sustain. She was standing just on the edge of the Stronghold’s still standing shield, a small hole allowing her to see the unfolding battle. It was chaos. Squads of humans marched this way and that, spears flashing and swords gliding through demons as it rained arrows.

Facing them were hoards of demons, most of which, Evelyn realised with a sinking feeling, she had never heard Sparda talk about. Blood was everywhere, human, and demonic, and corpses of both sides were being trampled underfoot as pitched battle clashed together. Shit. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Away to her right 6 magicians, all women, were battling some bulbous-headed demons. Spikes emerged from their heart-shaped heads as they tottered about on two of their four jointed limbs, tiny blue wings stretching behind them. The magicians were casting fireballs and cutting them down like paper, but the sheer number of them were terrifying. Especially as several of the beasts stopped during the attack to drain a nearby human corpse of its blood, their behinds swelling and pulsing with the swollen blood.

Suddenly, from behind her, Evelyn heard a screech. It was another of the same type of demon, only slightly bigger, looking swelled but with red pulsing crystals, not blood, some of which formed a grotesque crown upon its insectoid head. Three more came up behind the first, letting out another ear-splitting screech, the pincers in its mouth moving like a perverse mouth. The first one charged Evelyn and on instinct she cast the only spell she knew well, a yellow-lighted shield slammed up on her arms which she crossed over her head, the beast bashing into it before backing away with another shriek.

Evelyn breathed once, her eyes open and almost disbelieving. She withdrew her arms back to her sides, the shield spell still running causing the shining shield to split, one hovering above each of her forearms. Like a flash, an idea formed in her head and Evelyn at last knew what she had to do. Before the demon could charge again, Evelyn leaped, gaining just enough height. She carefully adjusted the mental array controlling the twin shields on her arms, shifting the glowing yellow ovals into a pair of sharp points. Then, with a quick, decisive, jab from her right arm, she brought the point of the shield directly into the three human faces of the demon, protection becoming weaponry in one critical moment.

Its mandibles opened as it squealed, falling backwards as blood gushed from the open wound in its face. Before Evelyn’s feet had even touched the ground, she cast another shield, larger than the demon, behind it. The other three screeched in rage, but Evelyn’s plan wasn’t letting up for a moment. She thrust both her arms forwards, the twin shields on her arms flying off her towards the demon, the momentum giving extra speed to the shields which she adjusted while they flew, lengthening them into stiletto knife like spikes which impaled themselves yet again into the demon.

This time, it’s shriek was a final one, the red crystals across its face and abdomen ruptured, splattering demon blood everywhere in a waterfall of grisle, before its body disintegrated into dust. The other three became agitated at their comrade’s death, squawking and throwing themselves at the shield, causing it to rattle and shake in mid-air. Evelyn dropped it, before instantly casting another one, this time bringing the edges of a circular shield into a bubble. However, this bubble contained the three demons as opposed to protecting Evelyn. With a grim feeling, Evelyn quickly adjusted the size symbol of the array, causing the bubble to shrink instantly from several metres across to barely 50cm, crushing the three huge demons into demon goop. She released them, the mess that used to be their bodies already dissipating before the gore reached the ground.

Evelyn wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, to relax just for a moment and stop her heart from hammering, but before she had even realised that she had defeated the demons that had been attacking her, she heard another, deeper shriek from behind her. Turning, heart still pounding in her ears, she saw it. It was huger than the other bug demons she had just battled, walking on four legs with huge, serrated blades on its front two limbs. An exposed human skull sat in its head beneath a crown of throbbing blood clots.

Evelyn fought her stomach from throwing up, bringing a little of her lunch into her mouth which she swallowed with a wince as it stung. The demon reared up on its hind legs, screeching again, before leaping high into the air above Evelyn. She panicked slightly, seeing the huge armour-plated insect thing above her. As the beast fell towards her, she crossed her arms again, the first yellow shield popping into existence again as she conjured the image of the array again in her mind.

A loud clang resounded as the demon fell onto the shield, the weight of the thing knocking the shield back and crushing Evelyn into the ground. The air was forced from her lungs, stars sprouting across her vision as she was smashed into the ground. Everything the 14-year-old had was forced into desperately keeping the shield up, stopping the thing from crushing her altogether. Adrenaline still racing through her, Evelyn threw herself backwards, desperately trying to escape from the demon before she was crushed beneath her own shield.

The demon was still facing away from her as she rose shakily to her feet, swaying slightly as she still gulped air into painful lungs that tasted slightly of blood. It seemed lethargic, turning slowly to face her, the blades on its arms gleaming threatening as it shifted. What now? Evelyn desperately thought, the unexpected lull in the fight putting her anxiety right through the roof. The demon was facing her now, its mandibles clacking.

Evelyn didn’t wait a moment longer, not knowing or caring why it wasn’t attacking her. She carefully adjusted the fundamentals of the shape of the shield, taking extra care as she added an extra nested circle within the array. The demon was charging her again now, sweeping its blades out and towards her. It didn’t get very far, however, as several spikes of Evelyn’s shields erupted from the ground, launching themselves into the demon which shrieked again.

Blood burst from each of the wounds, churning the ground into thick mud. Concentrating even further, the demon held in its place, Evelyn adjusted the spell yet again, the shields forming further spikes out into the body of the demon, riddling its veins with thick intrusions. It screamed one last time, Evelyn relaxing a little as it went through its death throes.

Mistake.

She dispelled the magic a moment too soon, and even while the demon’s body was disintegrating it lunged at her, its vicious bladed arm swiping forwards and just catching her side. She screamed, agony blooming her side, legs collapsing beneath her. A quick feel confirmed the wound was small but painful, only a little blood staining her cream woollen dress. Evelyn rubbed her eyes once, before forcing herself to her feet once again. She had to keep going, had to keep fighting. She reached down, tearing her dress up to her knees. Right now, the only thing Evelyn really cared about was survival.
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Battle was battle. That was all Sparda thought. In fact, this was more familiar than the past 30 years. Sparda had spent much longer holding his own as Demon Lord than he had slaughtering humans. He spun Devil Sword Sparda in his hand, the blade slicing through three Furys at once. Turning on his heel, he sent five summoned swords into one that had teleported behind him, killing it in an instant. 2 Fallen took their place, their impervious shining white wings sweeping around themselves, each summoning a lightning-spewing lance.

Both lunged towards Sparda at once, the Demon Lord leapt backwards in response, his wings giving a quick buzz to give him a little air to level him with the two light elementals. Both attacks went wide as a result, Sparda grinning a little at his enemies’ naivety. Both seemed angered, lightning crackling around, and both their upper sets of wings swept outwards. Fatal mistake. Devil Sword Sparda swung forwards and across both Fallens, shattering both sets of wings in an instant.

Without letting up a moment, several purple summoned swords whistled through the air from Sparda, imbedding themselves into the demon’s exposed chests. Both shrieked in agony, throwing their swords towards Sparda in pain. One landed on the ground beside him and the other imbedded itself into his left leg, engulfing him as they exploded. It took more than that to slow the Dark Knight down, however, Sparda barely flinched, instead flicking Devil Sword Sparda out into its Scythe Mode, catching the feathered demons on their right side, cutting deep gouges through the already stabbed through chest. Defeated, the pair fell into a cascade of glowing feathers.

“Sparda!” A voice called behind him. “Now this certainly is a surprise. I heard you were dead.” The Demon Lord turned, confronted with a demon he knew all too well.
“Pandora.” He greeted, all joy gone from his face. Sure, he still outranked her, but he was rather hoping he wouldn’t have to battle any of his fellow generals just yet.
“You’re looking more…together today.” Before him stood a golden-haired human woman, almost. Dressed only in thigh-high boots, she was walking towards him through battle like she owned it, her far too long, rapier like fingers flicking away human and demon alike. She laughed, her mouth opening wider, wider, wider.

Suddenly, her body melted like butter, reforming itself with a slurp into an eight-legged monstrosity, jagged, cartoonish smiles covering its golden body like tattoos. The thing had a pig-like head and snout which was shrieking with laughter as the eight legs barrelled towards Sparda.
“I’m ALWAYS together.” Pandora burst through its ear-splitting hysterics. “It’s WHO I’m put together as that’s the problem! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH.” Before Sparda could even get in a reply, Pandora’s body was shifting again, reshaping itself into a spindly, lithe, almost androgynous human-ish again. Everything was longer than it should’ve been, accentuated by a black-and-gold cloak that fell from his shoulders and a tall, spiked crown that rose from his now cropped short hair. “I never did like you, Sparda.” Pandora’s voice, now deeper and more refined, holding on to each consonant like his life depended on it. “You always had a way from making my mind act out.” With a snap, Pandora’s thin head fell to the side violently, his stick-thin neck almost breaking, but his neutral expression staying resolute. “It does rather grate on my nerves. Am I understood?”
“If this is your way of asking for a fight, Pandora, it’s as confusing as you are.” Sparda was already readying himself into a battle stance, his flesh-like sword ready in front of him.
“Very well.” Pandora was shifting again, back into the spider-pig-thing. “LET’S GO HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Pandora leapt into the air, all eight legs, spiked like the end of a sabre, facing downwards towards Sparda. With practised ease, he brought up his sword, the flat side of the blade catching all eight points easily. Another yelping shriek of laughter, and eight more vicious leg-spikes sprouted from Pandora’s abdomen, each on the end of an almost industrial-like tentacle. They flew towards Sparda, Pandora’s laughter not letting up at all, but Sparda shifted Devil Sword Sparda into Axe Mode, and swiped up past Pandora’s original legs, grazing the bottom of its abdomen.

Finally the laughter stopped, to be replaced by growling, as Pandora sprouted a pair of glowing golden wings, leaping off from Sparda into the air. The ends of the tentacles detached themselves, becoming projectiles which Sparda batted away with some summoned swords of his own. The rest of their body shifted again, into a four-legged furred animal, wings now more like spikes than feathers. Now a winged bear, Pandora roared, revealing a set of vicious black fangs.
“I’ll KILL YOU.” He shouted, his accent transformed into a thick Russian. The bear charged at Sparda, two sets of black claws swiping down and into the armour of his forearms. It hurt, a little, but it meant he was able to bring the end of his sword up as Pandora charged, impaling itself into his skull before he could chomp those barbarous fangs into Sparda’s own head. Now able to hear Sparda’s breaths, Pandora shifted again, this time into a long, black snake with golden highlights. The head was still impaled on Sparda’s sword, the golden slitted eyes staring at Sparda while its forked tongue hissed, but the scaled, muscular body now wound around Sparda, crushing him. He struggled to breathe as Pandora tightened further around him, parts of his armour beginning to creak. However, Pandora had forgotten one thing, and with a flash of purple three summoned swords flew through the air slicing straight through the snake’s body. With an angry hiss, its black blood began spurting everywhere as its body fell into numerous pieces. Pandora morphed once again, all of the blood becoming thick and its body shifting into the same, viscous liquid that oozed across the ground.
“That wasn’t very nice.” Pandora the puddle said, his voice coming from bubbles that popped on his surface. “I’ll have to seal my next attack with a kiss.” Somehow, the sentient puddle then made a kissing noise, completing the pun. Sparda responding by sending several summoned swords into the puddle, who quickly absorbed them with a burp sound.

Suddenly, Pandora the puddle was flying through the air towards Sparda, his viscousness quickly allowing him to wrap around the Dark Knight and, horribly, through him. He forced himself through the tiny gaps in his teeth and down his throat, forming spikes of himself that gouged at Sparda’s throat and stomach. Coughing madly, Sparda fell to one knee, unable to do anything against Pandora.
“I always knew you wanted to get intimate with me.” Pandora snarked while choking Sparda from the inside. It was that which caused an idea to spark in the Demon Lord’s mind.
“Yes.” Sparda managed to get out around Pandora. “You can be very sexy.” He felt it immediately. Pandora was beginning to transform again, another of their personalities coming to the foreground. They forced themselves out of Sparda’s organs, coalescing again before they shifted, and although Sparda could feel Pandora gouging him on their way it, it was worth the slight damage. Standing a little ways in front of him again him again was the pretty much naked first form he had seen Pandora take.
“Now that was clever, big boy.” Pandora purred seductively. “Using my own personality shifts against me.” Sparda didn’t give her a reply, however, running directly towards her.

He dragged his sword along the ground a little behind him as he sped, the sharp blade of Devil Sword Sparda heating up as it moved unimaginably fast along the floor, a few blazing hot sparks flash off of the tip. He arrived at Pandora just mid shift, her body melting away into what looked like a collection of tentacles. He thrust his white-hot sword directly into her.

Immediately, their body caught fire. They weren't made of anything, but the nothingness of their body went up like straw. They screeched, Pandora desperately shifting through as many forms as they could, a bear’s claws hopelessly swiping at Sparda before changing into a shark’s tail before it had even connected with him. The Demon Lord took care to stay out of the way of Pandora’s increasingly frantic attacks, but they clearly had nothing more to give, as each form they took was engulfed in flames, destroyed before it ever had the chance to form properly.

Eventually, Pandora became exhausted, all power they had enjoyed sucked into constantly shifting their forms. With a deep, wind-like sigh, they collapsed in on themselves, leaving only the glowing golden orb of their soul. Sparda was surprised to say the least. While he had collected some Devil Arms of his enemies, never one as high ranking or unusual as Pandora.

However, before Sparda could even take a step towards Pandora’s soul, a portal to Hell ripped open in front of him and out hopped a four-armed, two-legged demon. He had a body like a ball, perfectly round, from which emerged two, stick like, many jointed legs and four similarly unnatural and spindly arms. His head shaped like a rotten strawberry had merged into his spherical body, and as the demon turned he revealed a long, thin nose emerging from it, almost as long as the first half of his forearm, upon which rested two round, blue glass spectacles and below which was a wide smile of fangs. He had no hair, and was dressed in a rough parody of human clothes.
“Don’t even think about it, Machiavelli.” Sparda growled at the scavenger.
“O-oh! S-S-Sparda!” Machiavelli appeared to be blushing on cheeks that didn’t exist around that grin. “Of-f-f c-c-course it was a Demon Lord as-s-s m-m-marvellous and glorious-s-s as-s-s you! I’v-ve w-w-wanted to w-w-work on Pandora for s-s-such a long time. S-s-such a variable s-s-soul will make an excellent w-w-weapon. But y-y-you. W-w-when I f-f-finally get my hands-s-s on y-y-your soul I’ll m-m-make the g-g-greatest Devil Arm ever seen.”
“I won’t see you pervert another demon’s soul, Machiavelli.” Sparda declared, already striding towards the squat demon.
“T-t-too l-l-late!” Machiavelli stuttered and squawked, carefully taking Pandora’s golden soul in all four hands. Sparda was running towards him now, but even as 10 summoned swords flew towards him, Machiavelli bounded back through the portal, it closing just as the summoned swords stabbed through the air where he had been hunched. Sparda growled, unable to do anything as another lesser demon appeared in front of him to challenge him.

Chapter Text

Ahearn was not having a good time. The question was, who did have a good time in battle, although Ahearn had his suspicions about that demon filth Sparda. Even as he and his teammates cut through demons with their enchanted spears under the, as Ahearn was ashamed to admit, excellent leadership of Captain Rhys, he had to keep reminding himself that Sparda was just the same. Because he kept worrying over his safety. He was worrying over Evelyn and her little brothers as well, he found, which irritated him even more. They were NOTHING but devil worshippers. They were scum so why was Ahearn so deeply worried for them. Why did Ahearn feel deep admiration for them. Godsdamnit all!!

With a swipe, Ahearn brought his spear around to impale another pyrobat that was about to attack Soldier Owen. The other soldier gave him a quick flash of a smile before he turned to his own enemy. However, by the time the rest of the pyrobats had been, slain Ahearn was aware of another demon approaching them. A demon that had ‘nope’ written all over it. Captain Rhys was signalling to all of them that is was time to retreat, and looking at the metallic, orange glowing, many-legged striding towards them over the top of a collection of Abysses and Judeccas. Ahearn, however, was glued to the ground, his eyes wide as he gazed at the demon heading straight towards him at a worrying pace. His vision tunnelled, although he was vaguely aware of a couple of tears that escaped from his eyes as terror overtook him.
“Soldier Ahearn!” He heard Captain Rhys yell, his voice as muffled as if he were shouting through a wall. “Retreat! That’s clearly a high level demon!” Without even taking his eyes off of the silver and black demon, Ahearn said back grimly.
“Apologies my Captain! I’m going to be disobeying your orders!” Before muttering to himself. “I’m finally going to avenge you brother. If I get even one hit on that bastard, it will all have been worth it.” Ahearn stood ready, the demon finally slowing down as it saw it had his attention completely.

No, if he was going into this battle in the name of Menexious then he would use his birth name, Aischylos. Not one he had adopted to run like a coward from his destiny. Because this was his destiny. It had been since he had watched this fucking useless insect demon ripped apart his brother right in front of him before sending one of its exploding swords straight into his remains and obliterating what was left. Well, if this thing didn’t give him any of his big brother to grieve, then Aischylos wasn’t going to leave a shred of this stain upon the earth left in existence.

It was facing him now, standing to its full height over him, nearly twice as tall as he was. It looked like a praying mantis, its face an insectoid skull that looked at him with three glowing tiger-orange eyes, below which clacked two separate sets of mandibles. The rest of its bug-demon body was covered in thick black metallic armour, the cracks of which spewed a dangerous, orange light, especially around the joints of its lower four legs. It had two forelimbs, in addition to the four it stood on, which rubbed in front of it, serrated with enough blades for an entire armoury. As if in a direct rejection of the demon’s praying mantis body, directly behind and above its forelegs rose a pair of bat-like wings. The bones were black and silver, with a thin salamander-coloured membrane spread between it. “I bet you don’t even remember me, you piece of demonic shit.” Aischylos growled, grasping his spear firmly and getting ready to face his final enemy.
“Probably can’t understand what I’m saying. Probably can’t even speak you thick, overgrown flea. So let you tell me this, my brother was the best person on this earth. When you fuckers arrived in this world, I saw you. I saw you open your godsdamn portal right into my home and you bastards flooded through the like the plague you are. My home burned because of you, the whole of Hellos* did! And the place we fled to, and the place after that. Every home my brother and I could scrape together from what little two kids alone had was ruined by you filth! The only thing through all of that was my big brother. He looked after me, he did everything he could for me. We had one hope, one, and that was staying together. AND YOU TOOK THAT FROM ME. It wasn’t even like you were with your fucking army. You were alone. We were alone. You’d already destroyed Egypt, that’s why we were hiding there. So WHY were you there?!? And why did you kill him AND LEAVE ME ALIVE!?!”

Everything about Aischylos was hot. Hot angry tears on his face, hot blushes right across his skin, hot burning of injustice within him.
“So listen up, and listen good. I don’t care what happens to me, you lot have already taught me that humanity’s going down and going down fast, and I don’t give a shit anymore. All I care about is making sure you suffer just as much as my brother did. Alright?” With a roar, Aischylos funneled all of his years of rage and leapt forward, swinging his enchanted spear around in front of him and straight into the demon’s front right leg. The magic immediately got to work, sending tendrils of light through the afflicted limb like ivy up a cliff face, before expanding outwards and shattering the leg’s exoskeleton. The tendrils of light would have continued climbing through the monster’s veins, but it slid one of the barbs of its foreleg outwards – not a barb, one of its swords – and sliced through its own leg. With a crackle and a pop, another leg snapped cleanly out from the demon’s abdomen, identical to the one Aischylos destroyed.

“That was quite rude my boy,” The demon hissed at Aischylos, gluing him in place. The thing’s voice was loud and resounded around his head, but carried a hissing, whispered tone that was frequented with sharp clicks of it mandibles. “But I’ll let it slide just this once. This is our reunion after all! You’ve spent so long teasing me, running all over the human world and even changing your name, dear boy. All’s well that ends well, eh? You can come home now.” The demon seemed to be smiling, a saccharine sweet smile.
“You can speak?” Aischylos managed to force out around his shock.
“Well of course, my lad. After all, if I couldn’t then you’d have a hard time speaking.” It chuckled then, the sound of mental grinding against wet stone.
“W – what? I don’t – I don’t understand. You said you’ve been following me? Why? What could you possibly want??”
“You actually don’t know, do you?” The demon cocked its head slightly. “I thought you were just playing around earlier, my little nugget, but you really don’t know do you? Or haven’t worked out I suppose.” The monster was rubbing its barbed forelegs together carefully, creating a grinding noise that grated horribly. Aischylos didn’t care. Didn’t care what this demon wanted with him, what it was going to say. Nothing. He just wanted it dead and for that he needed a weapon. He casted around desperately for one while the filth kept a twisted eye contact with him. “I’m Lucifer, your father, you silly bean!”

What. WhAT?!? WHAT!!???!! There was no way. There was NO WAY.
“That cannot be true. There is literally no way. I knew my parents, both of them, before they died in the DEMON INVASION. Really, if you thought you’d upset me by lying then you got another thing coming!!”

There had been a sword lying a few meters away from him, which he had managed to grab while the demon was distracted. Now, with another surge of anger through him, Aischylos charged again. This time, as he neared the demon’s leg, he ducked under it, before jumping and grasping up onto the charcoal-coloured, armoured underbelly of its abdomen. He grasped the familiar hilt of an ambaxtoi’s sword, before thrusting it firmly upwards towards an orange pulsating crack he could see above, like glimpsing lava through stone. The demon above him gave a slight shriek, before it tensed. Already, Aischylos could see the wound he had inflicted closing, but before he could cause another, the demon released, leaping high into the air form all four legs. It turned in mid-air, its long, angular body looking almost graceful as its orange, bat-like wings allowed it to glide to face Aischylos, just as before.
“Now, now, Munchkin.” It hissed at him, without even giving him a moment to say anything. “There’s no need to throw a tantrum. I may not have been there before but I’m here now. I didn’t know about you, that’s all. As soon as I felt you, I came to you and killed that annoying little fly that was keeping us apart. And you ran away from me! What a silly bean. No matter, now, I can guide you through life, my little doodlebug.”
“He was my BROTHER. And I don’t care WHAT you say. My brother was EVERYTHING and you just called a fly. I wish you would just DIE.”
“Oh really, chipmunk. There’s no need for any of that now. I’m here. I can get you all the power you’ve ever wanted. Wouldn’t you like that? Power to crush whoever you wanted beneath your feet. That’s what you’re really after, isn’t it? You’re just being silly.” The demon wasn’t listening. No. It didn’t understand. Its tiny, stupid little brain was unable to comprehend that he wasn’t some half demon freak, especially not of the monster that killed his brother.

The sword was still in his hand, Aischylos was still on his feet, facing his enemy. He wasn’t going to stop until he was with his brother again, or the thing in front of him was lying before him in bloody, bloody pieces. He sprung again, swinging his sword. However, this time, he didn’t even cross the ground to the monster, the minute his feet were running, the demon flicked its serrated forelegs forward, six of its swords detaching themselves and flying towards Aischylos at speed. He couldn’t dodge, couldn’t do anything. They were quick and he was too slow.

All six swords rammed themselves into Aischylos’ chest, agony exploding through him. He couldn’t scream, as blood rushed from where his lungs used to be, forcing itself up his throat to spurt, searing, from his mouth. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Everything was pain. He went slack all over and was dimly aware of the floor crashing into his back before agony ate up every part of him. He had failed. He had died and he hadn’t been able to avenge his brother. Well, he hadn't really expected anything different, if he was being honest.

Suddenly, Aischylos was gasping air! Shock coursed through him. His eyes were open, he could see! And the pain, the pain had gone entirely! He was standing, he realised. Right above where he had fallen. Yes, there was his blood on the ground. Aischylos could barely think. There was no way he was still alive. Was he a ghost? He had felt himself dying. What had happened? He gazed around, but he couldn’t see anything out of place. Only, everything did look a little off? Was he taller? Was he floating? He must be dead. Before he could think further, he heard that heinous voice again above him.

“Well now, this is unexpected. I didn’t know this was even possible. What a clever Sprout you are! Such a shame I can’t remember which one of the women I raped your mother was.” Aischylos couldn’t take another moment of this bastard demon. He leapt forward again, only to over balance and land straight in the mud. “Oh, poor little thing. Those pretty new legs of yours will take some getting used to!”
The HELL?!? What WAS going on?? Aischylos rose onto his hands, except, those weren’t his hands. Those weren’t his forearms either.

Aischylos’ brain stalled and refused to work again. Right at his elbows, instead of his own arms this armour plating started. He couldn’t help but notice the similarity to Lucifer’s exoskeleton, right down to the cracks at his joints and in several places that leaked a red instead of that thing’s orange. His arms’ plating ended with several obsidian-like spikes around his wrists, before where his hands should’ve been a pair of three-clawed mockeries of a hand sat. Three, black armour-plated fingers splayed out from a charcoal like palm, the ends of each were longer than they should have been, curling into bird-like talons.

He jerked backwards in shock, his legs once again failing underneath him, and landed on his arse. His legs haphazardly sitting out in front of him, only, his legs were unrecognisable as well. His own legs were still clad in his army uniform brown breeches, but his usual sturdy brown boots, and his very human feet, weren’t the same - black armour-like growths were enveloping where they should have been. His ankle had been transformed into a second joint, set backwards compared to his knee, a third section of leg stretching out like a horse’s below it. That’s why he had felt so high. He was physically taller. Holy shit. This couldn’t be happening. His leg now ended in rough, ankle-like structure, from which a thin version of his new hand protruded. Three-toed and covered in the same shiny black spikes. All across his new growths, that red glow emanated, bright and angry. The wind caught his hair, which had exploded from his ponytail, and it too had changed to a matching scarlet.
With a jolt, Aischylos realised he was crying again. Not bitter tears of fury but painful ones of loss.

“What have you done to me?” He gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as he continued to stare at himself in shock. He didn’t even want to touch these disgusting new limbs. He didn’t want to think about them, didn’t want them to be a part of him.
“I haven’t done anything, bumpkin! You’ve awakened my blood in you all by yourself.” Lucifer cooed. It couldn’t be true. There was no way. But how could he deny it. With these legs and these arms, Aischylos had to face the truth, that this thing really was his father and he, he was a monster. An abomination. A thing not one or truly the other. The tears were falling thick and fast now. “Now now, jellybean. Don’t cry. I’m here and we can stay together forever. You can serve me. That’d be fun, serving Daddy and being his oh so loyal little boy.” Aischylos looked up at the hissing demon – his father. His vision was blurred almost beyond belief with the tears.

“There’s no way I’ll ever take sides with a MONSTER.” Aischylos was getting to his feet, slowly, still unsteady with his new height. His new joints bounced beneath him, and he could feel the power in his legs, each muscle feeling a hundred times more attuned. In fact, everything felt more powerful, like he had liquid energy writhing through him. It felt amazing. With another roar that sounded loud and animalistic, Aischylos pounced towards Lucifer again. His legs threw him further with each stride, going faster than he ever could have imagined before. The world around him blurred, only that hideous thing that called itself his father in focus. His talons burnt on his fingers, aching to be drenched in blood, and damn him if he wasn’t going to. With an almighty leap that took him off guard at how high he went, he was suddenly at eye level with Lucifer. He howled again, bringing his new talons right into that thing’s face. Blood arched out around him as he fell, dragging the claws down and gouging great chunks of flesh out of the demon. Lucifer’s armour, which Aischylos remembered shattering his brother’s sword, now buckled and tore beneath his hands like leaves. In a flash, he had landed again, bounding easily away again with jumps that any dear would envy. Lucifer had brought his forelegs up to his face as his screeched and hissed in pain, almost on reflex sending several more swords towards Aischylos that morphed into darts in mid-air. Again, Aischylos danced deftly out of the way, but he overshot on his last jump, his second joint taking him upwards and outwards too far, and flinging him into the earth yet again, the demon blood that still covered him soaking away to make vile-looking mud.

With dread, Aischylos looked up from the ground to see already Lucifer’s face was knitting itself together, his exoskeleton reforming over delicate looking flesh. GODSDAMNIT. Was this power that flew through him and made his blood sing really not enough? He needed more. That was the only answer. A greater strength within him so he could annihilate Lucifer and all other demons. Nothing but their corpses. That was it, it had to be.
“I’m as much of a monster as you are, son.” Lucifer replied, his hiss slightly distorted as the last of his mandibles healed. “But those silly little labels don’t matter between us. I know you can feel it, that overwhelming urge to be great, to be powerful and destroy anyone you could possibly want to. Surely that’s what matters primarily? Stay with me, be my loyal little Chick-pea and I’ll give you all the power you could ever want.”

Shit. There was no way. No way. Did Lucifer really know him that well? He couldn’t. He COULDN’T. Aischylos knew himself and he was nothing like the obscene, barbarous scum that called themselves demons. He had deliberately set himself against them. But did that really matter in the end? He was half-demon. There was no way to deny it, not when he had these three-fingered talons burning for blood with their very being on the end of his arms.

He could serve Lucifer, Aischylos realised with a jolt. Just forget everything except that fire within him, never mind who’s blood it was dousing it. It would be all too easy to just shut down forever.
But what then? What would happen to him eventually? The thought came as a shock to him, even as Lucifer advanced on his still prone body; the demon’s forelegs rubbing together sounded like screeching metal. Aischylos hadn’t had a ‘what then’ in his life since…..since his brother died. Everything he had done had been for this final battle with Lucifer. Because he had always known it would’ve killed him. Mankind was already doomed, might as well try to get some revenge in there before the ship went down for good. He had that option know, though. He could survive this fight. He could come out victorious. It’d happen for certain if he just shut down and ignored the world.

What then for the rest of mankind? Evelyn and the twins and the General and Captain Rhys and Captain Sloane and everyone else who still gripped onto the cliff with their fingernails. Even Brigadier Sparda. He would be fighting them, there was no way getting around it. Could he really quench the fire in his heart with their blood? Like a vision, Aischylos could see what would happen. The desert sands of Egypt replaced themselves with the rolling fields of Albion, it was Evelyn’s blood spewing forwards to the horror of the little brothers, but instead of Lucifer’s scarlet sword imbedded in the elder sibling’s chest, it was his own talons. He couldn’t repeat history like that. For the first time in so long, he had a ‘what now’, and he wasn’t going to give it up for anything.

“You really don’t know how humans work, do you?” Aischylos said, glaring up into those three fiery orange eyes that gazed unending down at him. “I may be like you, but my soul is not. My soul is like my brother’s and my mum’s and my dad’s and Evelyn’s. It’s human, and that will never change. And it will never kowtow to some monstrous instincts it know is WRONG!”
“What a pity.” The saccharine sweet edge to Lucifer’s voice had disappeared in an instant. “I really don’t know how humans work, do I?” He sighed, buzzing like a mosquito. “Ah well, guess this one’s just another failure.”

With the barest of flicks from the insect demon’s forelegs, more swords were flying towards Aischylos than he had ever seen before. He barely managed to make it to his new feet before they landed, desperately dodging was not enough and several flew straight into his thighs and calves, he barely managed to stay standing as his blood erupted around him “Perhaps I’ll enslave the mother next time to ensure the child won’t get its own ideas.” Lucifer was continuing to ramble, even as he sent the order for the swords to explode. Aischylos furiously started to rip them out of his legs, but already it was too late and he was flying backwards, huge chunks of himself littering the air around him. He landed with a thump, agony racing through him again. Without giving himself a chance to assess the damage, Aischylos rose to one knee, wiping the worst of the blood from his talons, his legs pulling themselves together in a mirror image of Lucifer’s healing. “Oh but humans take so long to grow up, it’s such a faff and a bore.” Lucifer continued to himself as he turned away from Aischylos, his legs ready and his wings spreading behind him.

“Haven’t you ever heard not to turn your back on your enemy?” Aischylos roared, launching himself towards the demon yet again. This time, he didn’t have a plan, didn’t have a weapon, he just had to stop the monster before it got away from him and towards the other people. Both of his claws reached out in front of him, he channelled all of that fire in his veins into them. With a flash and a crackle, lightning the same shade of red as his glowing limbs vaulted between his hands, humming with power. The lightning leapt, quicker and quicker, until it had formed the ghostly image of a rose between his hands with the strands of lightning. Aischylos had no idea what was going on and followed his instincts, sending a mental message he didn’t understand to the rose. The rose flew forwards at Lucifer, imbedding itself into his back, before slicing all the way through. Lucifer shrieked, turning back to face Aischylos, but it was too late. The rose was still under the hybrid’s control and quicker than Lucifer could think, it had flown back into him. He desperately sent out several more darts and swords, but Aischylos dodged them with ease, leaping backwards and forwards across the battlefield like a hare. The rose erupted from higher in Lucifer’s body again, the demon’s healing too slow for the speed at which Aischylos could control it. As a last ditch effort, the demon leapt into the sky, his wings beating frantically at the air to give him further lift even as he sent more darts at his opponent which exploded prematurely, sweeping his hair away from his face. He stayed grim faced as he brought the rose around for what he knew was the last time, the spectral image enmeshing around his father’s head. He squeezed quickly, the insect’s head exploding into gore that rained down onto the battlefield.
Lifeless, the demon’s body began to plummet straight downwards and Aischylos panicked even as he released the rose and exhaustion swept through him. However, as it fell it began to break into smaller and smaller shards of black and orange glass-like material, until at last all that remained was a glowing orange orb.

He staggered forwards on legs that wanted to collapse, everything leaving him as absolute fatigue ran rampant through him. He reached out a single clawed hand into the light, which immediately vanished. Aischylos could feel himself collapsing even as he did so, his legs giving way and his vision dimming. The last thing he noticed was a new weight on his left shoulder before everything went to blackness.

Chapter Text

Evelyn could tell something was happening. She had been fighting for hours now, or at least it felt like that. She’d been alone for almost all of it as well, and it was becoming a serious effort to drag the energy out of herself to cast yet another spell. She was caked in blood and gore, her once brown dress now heavy and wet with the carnage. Her hand was still throbbing as well. A little while earlier; hard to tell when, after a while the constant panic and effort of spellcasting caused time to blur together into an endless seeming river; she had been fighting one of the blind demons that danced with lightning around it and gotten sloppy.

One of its claws, charged with huge amounts of lightning, had sliced towards Evelyn and she hadn’t quite dodged in time. She was now missing the ring and pinky fingers on her left hand as a show of her mistake. She had killed the thing in the end, but the blood loss had made her woozy, despite doing her best to staunch the bleeding, and her entire hand throbbed with a sharp ache that bit like a dog. That wasn’t the worst part, however. The worst part were the demons that could speak. Some just screamed unintelligibly, and some communicated in a language she could only assume was some kind of Demonic. Some spoke English, however, and begged her for mercy. They cried that they had no choice, or they wished they weren’t demons, or if she let them live they’d fight for her. She’d cut them down as well, but their final screams of pain and regret were the most fathomable and the most painful.

Now, however, Evelyn was having to search out the demons to fight, instead of them coming to her as expected. She was often walking fair distances between more isolated pockets of conflict, and arriving to find maybe one or two demons were the heart of the fight. The demons were screeching at each other more than ever before, their language loud and ugly. Was mankind winning? Was this it? Evelyn glanced across the battlefield with the mangled remains of a demon at her feet, only to see the few demons that were left as combatants were running away from the Stronghold towards the forest. Some soldiers were casing after them, or throwing javelins in their wake, but for the most part they looked as shattered as Evelyn felt.

Suddenly, the sea of carnage, noise, fear and violence was gone, leaving an expanse of blood, discarded weapons, mud and corpses. Evelyn tried not to think about it as she passed a lone hand, still grasping an ambaxtoi’s sword, lying on the ground amongst the remains of some heather. This had probably been a mistake, but it was much much much too late to try and take it back now.
Good Gods she was tired, her feet buckling under her as for the first time since, it seemed, forever she actually relaxed, the manic adrenaline leaving her for a queasy, exhausted feeling. Hearing footsteps to her left, she turned, head whipping around, the frenzied energy returning within a moment.

It was a group of 8 magicians. Humans. Friends. With a sigh of relief, she relaxed straight back to her fatigue, walking shakily over to them.
“Goodness, you’re young.” One of them, a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair, said before she was even that close. “I’m amazed you’re still alive.”
“Adam!” A woman beside him admonished. She was loud, but Evelyn could see the same slump in her shoulders that everyone had. “The girl’s been fighting just the same as we all have. On her own, by the looks of it too. What happened to the rest of your squad?” Evelyn’s eyes widened. They didn’t realise that she wasn’t supposed to be there. What did she say?

Her mind crackled, no ideas coming. Come on, come on. She had to think of something. The woman, who was still looking at her, also looked shocked for a moment, before pity overtook it.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything.” The 9 humans had come to a stop near each other, some of them collapsing to the ground in a half-slump, half-sit. The woman picked her way carefully around an insectoid demon arm, before opening her arms to Evelyn. Evelyn collapsed forward into the stranger’s arms without a second thought, tears pricking her eyes.
“I think I could do with a hug too, Gilda.” A third magician said, a male voice not much older than Evelyn’s.
“Come on then, Borak.” Newly identified Gilda said, and Evelyn felt a body, slightly sharp and bony, squish beside her against Gilda. It was so relaxed there, so calm. Evelyn could almost feel herself drop off to sleep, the world becoming distant around her.

CRAP! That wasn’t sleep. That was blood loss. With a jerk, Evelyn detached herself from Gilda, the edges of her vision starting to go blurry. Her ears began to ring, and she could feel everything slip away from her further. She thought she could feel Gilda asking her a question, and she gestured dully to where she had built a rough torniquet around her arm. She fought to stay away, even as her eyelids felt like they were lead. Everything was swimming, a feeling of weightlessness filling her head and lifting it up up up high above the battlefield.

She jerked back to reality suddenly, a feeling of warmth enveloping her left hand and creeping its way up her arm like stepping into a warm bath. She managed to open her eyes again, despite the fact they felt as crusty and dry as a riverbed in summertime.
“Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?” Someone was talking. Reality slowly came back into focus around Evelyn, her hears still ringing slightly. It was that Borak man, one of the his hands was on Evelyn’s cheek and his head was filling her vision.
“Wha – what happened?” Evelyn managed to get out.
“You passed out. Most likely shock and blood loss. Come on, stay with me. I’ve healed your hand, so you should be feeling fine in a minute, just don’t go back to sleep.” His accent was deep and rich and unlike anything Evelyn had ever heard. Even in her dream-like state, she couldn’t help but smile a little at its golden tones.
“Uhhhmm. Ok.” She managed to get out. It still felt like reality was popping in and out of existence, like Evelyn couldn’t tell where was real and where wasn’t.
“That’s it. Well done. You’re doing great. How long ago did you get this wound?”
“Errrrrrrr. A while ago? I don’t know. Maybe an hour or two? Probably longer.” It didn’t feel like the words were coming out of Evelyn’s own mouth, but she recognised her own voice and clung onto that as her ears finally stopped ringing and her vision came back in drips.
“Oh! That’s very impressive to have kept on fighting this long. I certainly couldn’t have done that.”
“Well, I could never have healed anyone like you just did. I don’t understand how healing woks at all.” Evelyn could see pretty much everywhere now, and although every part of her still felt utterly exhausted, it wasn’t quite as crushing as before
“Weird that we’re still both magicians.” Borak remarked, looking carefully into Evelyn’s eyes. He smiled, his whole face lighting up with warmth as he saw Evelyn actually focus onto him.
“You’re right. It’s really silly. Because if someone was really badly wounded, and said call a magician, and they called me, that person would die no matter what happened.” Borak hummed in agreement, but Evelyn’s brain kept on buzzing, even as it dragged itself from the quagmire of unconsciousness. “You know what, we should have separate names for different types of magician. There would be what? Healers, shield casters and attackers?”
“Offensive, defensive and healers? I suppose that makes sense. Or, actually, healers wouldn’t be a good term, because people that incline towards healing also tend to incline towards enchanting. It’s all casting spells on things. Perhaps Enchanter, or Enchantress for Gilda over there, would be a better word?”
“That’s an excellent idea!” Evelyn enthused. “Do you think offensive and defensive sound too similar though? That would be a mix up you really wouldn’t want to make.”
“That’s a good point. What about a Priest or Priestess for defensive, like you. Since priest is like a druid for many people. That is what you call your wise men here, isn’t it?”
“Yes! Yes I think that’s perfect. What about offensive? They should have a myth-inspired name too, or it wouldn’t be fair. Magus perhaps? I heard some people using that as a similar word for magician.”

Evelyn couldn’t help but admit that she hadn’t looked away from the man at all at this point, there was something about how his shoulder length black hair framed those high cheek-bones, and the rough stubble that could perhaps become a beard. Even as Evelyn looked, a wistful look suddenly came into the man’s deep brown eyes, and the warm cocoa skin around his eyes crinkled a little.
“The wise men of my home were called Magi.” He said, his eyes suddenly the deepest pair Evelyn had ever seen. “They guided and lead like no others.” He laughed, his attention suddenly back on Evelyn. “I think it’s an excellent idea to categorise. Perhaps we should petition the General about it.”
“I can chat to Sparda about it.” Evelyn said off hand, Borak’s head snapping up in an instant.
“Of course! That’s why you’re so familiar! I saw you with the Brigadier. Gosh, how could I forget someone as pretty as you.” He paused suddenly, shock crossing his face leaching all of the mystical allure away to leave an anxious boy Evelyn’s age. “Shoot! I mean – ah – what’s your name?”
“Err, Evelyn.”
“I – right! Well, I, err.” Borak began to flounder in front of Evelyn, his smooth skin blooming into a full blush.
“I’m feeling much better now.” Evelyn interrupted the man’s stuttering. Honestly, where did he even get the energy for it? She still felt like she was dead on her feet.

Evelyn stood a little shakily, her legs wobbling under her a little, before she looked around. The other magicians were talking among themselves quietly, pointedly ignoring the fainting child, except Gilda who was hovering awkwardly, looking towards what were in her eyes two children on the battlefield.
“What do you think we should do now?” Evelyn asked, glancing about at the adults. However, before she could get a reply from them, she spotted a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye, six purple summoned swords gliding around his dark silhouette. Without even thinking, she pointed across at him, causing the other magicians to turn and look. “Who wants to go say hello to the Brigadier?” Evelyn said with her first smile in much too long.

It didn’t take them long to traverse the battle field towards Sparda, the group carefully around demon carcasses, but stopped whenever they found a corpse to move the person’s remains out of the mire of assorted body parts, plants and mud. Evelyn hoped that soon enough they’d have some kind of a burial for the fallen soldiers. As soon as they had neared the demon, the middle-aged man for earlier called out.
“Brigadier! Magician Squad 2 reporting, sir!” Sparda turned to face them, and despite the blood spattered even further across him than anyone else, his face lit up. The closest thing to a smile he could muster breaking out across his sharp toothed mouth.
“Jehan!” Sparda cried, dashing the last distance to meet them, his wings flicking out slightly to allow for a slight glide. “Oh, it is excellent to see you again. Gilda, you too! And Borak and Connor and – ” Sparda stopped dead in his tracks suddenly. “Evelyn? What are you doing here?”
“Sparda, I – ” She tried, but the Brigadier cut her off before she could continue.
“Evelyn, why did you do this? I told you, I wanted you to stay safe.”
“And I told you I knew I could help. Look!” In frustration, Evelyn summoned the very last of her energy to cast one last spell. Her glowing array didn’t even appear this time, just a smooth oval blinked into existence over her hand. Controlling it with ease, not even particularly thinking how she was adjusting her mental array, the shield shifted over her hand, forming around into a bubble, before the bubble grew spikes and then split apart into several spikes of red energy, remarkably similar to Sparda’s summoned swords. The minute Evelyn dispelled the shield, the exhaustion swept over her again, and what felt like the gash on her side reopening. She fought to stay on her feet, her eyes still glaring defiantly up at Sparda. “You see? I knew I could use that, and I couldn’t sit and do nothing knowing that.”

Sparda sighed, before placing his huge hand on Evelyn’s shoulder.
“Alright. There’s nothing I can do about it now. You were very stupid to do this though. And very brave. I must admit, your skill with a shield is impressive for so little teaching. Come on, let’s get back to the Stronghold.” Evelyn nodded mutely, feeling more drained by the moment. Sparda began to lead the way, his large strides making headway up the battlefield towards the Stronghold. The others followed him, Evelyn being swept along. She wanted to talk to Sparda, but everything felt like so much effort now, everything she has was focussing on walking. Instead, she opted to walked beside Sparda as he made conversation with Gilda, Jehan and another man named Connor.

Before long, however, she was lagging, her side aching as she was sure now she had reopened the wound. Suddenly, she felt an arm around her side as she realised she had started to lean as she walked. “You look like you need a hand?” The owner of the arm laughed, Borak’s rich voice smiling.
“Thank you.” Evelyn said. “I don’t know how you have the energy for it all.”
“I don’t know. The others all started to flag after a while of casting spells, but it hasn’t tired me out yet. I’ve been doing just as much as everyone, maybe even more since I’ve been healing everyone we’ve come across, but I don’t feel all that tired at all.”
"I wouldn’t mind some of that energy.” Evelyn laughed, nuzzling into Borak’s shoulder in a way that may or may not have been deliberate. She could feel the man laughing beneath her.
“I get the feeling you’ve been through a lot recently. Perhaps more than any of us.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Evelyn’s knees were starting to bend at the wrong times now, she was just so tired of all of it. “Everyone else has been left alone and fighting alone for so much longer than I have. 5 weeks ago I was with my parents and my baby sister and – ” Evelyn cut herself off, tears that had gone long unshed now forcing themselves forward. Her throat seized up as everything hit her all at once, everything she’d tried to ignore for so long.
“That is a lot to loose so suddenly. I remember the destruction of my home, our great city Seleucia was gone so soon and it was so unexpected. I was lucky my parents managed to escape with me, but even then I was so sad for so long. It is ok to cry.” And Evelyn did just that. Borak was warm throughout all of it, talking to her little by little as they slowly made their way back to the Stronghold.
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Ahearn woke with a start, everything rushing back to him in an instant as the vestiges of dreams released him. Good Gods that had really happened. He couldn’t quite believe it. Fuck. He sat up slowly in what he realised was a bed, looking dejectedly down at his hands. Hands. Ahearn’s brain fizzled for a moment. He had hands. Actual, pink, five-fingered hands. What the actual fuck? With a jolt, he looked down at this legs. Normal legs, with one joint and one calf, and two, five-toed feet. He wasn’t wearing any boots, and the bottoms of his breeches was slashed to bits, but he was all, 100% human. Ahearn breathed twice in relief and went to brush at his head, only to find his hand caught. He was chained to a wall with a set of heavy, iron shackles. Looking around, he recognised at once the lock-up in the barracks, a small, dingy room where he had sent several drunken soldiers during his time as an ambaxtoi to sober up. What was going on?

With a creak, the rough wooden door to the cell opened, and in walked the General and the Brigadier, the Demon Lord having to stoop to even stand in the room. Ahearn blinked. He had never even heard the title Demon Lord before.
“Ahearn.” The General announced coldly, his grey eyes flitting between Ahearn and Sparda. “I hope you have an explanation for this.”
“I don’t understand exactly what you’re talking about, sir. I’m assuming by our presences here that we won the battle.”
“Yes, mankind did.” The General replied. “Mundus retreated not long after Sparda defeated Pandora. We plan to push the advantage before he has a chance to consolidate and spawn more troops. But before we do that I need to know what is happening with you. We found you passed out in the middle of a sea of blood, with that thing attached to your shoulder. None of us can get it off.”

Attached to his shoulder? What? Ahearn glanced at his right then his left. Holy!! What was that?? Attached to his left shoulder was some kind of pauldron of some kind. As he jerked away, two limbs slotted out of it and rested behind his left shoulder. Oh fuck. He recognised those. They were the limb part of Lucifer’s wings, just without the orange membrane between them. And they were glowing the same shade of scarlet as what he remembered his arms as glowing. If that had even happened. Looking closely, he realised the pauldron was in fact Lucifer’s face, although those orange eyes had shifted to red as well.
“I’m guessing by your reaction you have no idea either then.” The General surmised.
“No, sir. I fought a demon with this…..face.” Ahearn swallowed weakly as he gestured at the thing seemingly welded to his shoulder. “But I don’t know why it’s….on me like this. I fainted soon after I won.” Ahearn went to touch the thing carefully, before jostling it a little. It was well and truly wedged there, the sleeve of his tunic that had been there had disintegrated, and even as Ahearn scrabbled at the shoulder pad it wasn’t moving. The General made a noise of non-committal before looking across at the Brigadier.

“I hadn’t met the demon of that face particularly before. I believe he served under Phantom, that idiot did always go for the weird ones. What matters, however, is you smell incredibly deeply of him. I’ve spent a lot of time with you in the past 5 weeks, I know your smell incredibly well, and up until now you’ve only had the scent of demonic energy after having encountered it regularly. Now, it permeates your scent. You smell as much of demonic energy as you do of humanity.” Ahearn moved to reply but Sparda cut him off. “More than that, I believe what you have on your shoulder is a Devil Arm, the soul of a demon that has decided to serve you instead of dying and transformed itself into a semi-sentient weapon. It’s not uncommon. What is uncommon is humans can’t use them. We experimented with it, decades ago, and any human that uses a Devil Arm, even one from a demon they have defeated themselves, would become consumed by the demon’s soul within a day at most. It’s called being possessed. You were unconscious for 4 days, and I know for a fact you’re not possessed. So what is going on?”
“I didn’t. I don’t know. I was in battle and it was all a complete blur. Alright?”
“That isn’t going to cut it, Soldier.” The General said with a voice like steel.

He said his title like some kind of an insult, and suddenly Ahearn was incredibly aware that the General was the one who had demoted him. With a flash, that writhing, burning anger was running through Ahearn again like a living thing beneath his skin. He didn’t even think, turning to growl with a voice like a wolf at his enemy. He then pounced, his legs once again longer than before giving him a huge amount of time airborne. Enough time to snap the manacles clean open with three-fingered hands and lunge his talons out towards his attacker. Before he could connect, however, a huge sword, one he vaguely recognised as Sparda’s intercepted his leap, knocking him out of the air with a gasp. He landed on the cell’s ground with a backwards roll, however, all of his anger had dissipated, and his vision was filled with a flurry of red, ember-like flecks, and suddenly his extra legs had gone, his own two hands sitting next to him on the cold, flag-stone floor.

“What the actual fuck.” Whispered the General under their breath, at a volume Ahearn was certain he shouldn’t be able to hear.
“As I thought.” Sparda growled, swinging his huge sword around to point directly at Ahearn’s heart. “Whoever you are, leave off this human’s form and fight me properly. It’s unbecoming to hide like this, especially declaring another’s soul upon your shoulder like that.” Ahearn stared in shock up at the irate Demon Lord, while the General glanced between the two of them frantically. He hesitated, panic overcoming him. What did he do? What did he do??? He really really didn’t want to say the wrong thing in this situation, but he could sense Sparda’s presence rising steadily against his own at his silence. Wait…..what the Hell did that even mean?? What was going on??? What was happening to him?!?
“I have no idea what’s happening either. I was just fighting Lucifer, and and something happened to me. Please, I don’t know what’s going on.” Suddenly, everything that had happened crashed over Ahearn like a tidal wave. Everything. He wasn’t even human and he had killed his father and was now apparently fused to his soul and his brother was dead now, properly. He had lived his life in his brother’s name, he had done everything for him and had expected to die for him too, but now that was over and he was still alive and that meant his brother really was gone. What was left of Menexious now?

He was crying again. The soldier felt a rush of shame at crying so openly in front of people really he should still be keeping his shield up against, but no matter how he tried to stem the flow, it was too much. It was all just too much.
“He’s crying, General.” Sparda stated, moving and desummoning his sword.
“I can see that, Brigadier.” The General replied, his usual demeanour softened just a little.
“Only humans can cry.”
The Demon Lord was just standing and looking at Ahearn now, his face unreadable. The General looked across at Sparda in surprise, before looking back at the still weeping Ahearn in curiosity and confusion.
“I don’t understand.” He whispered.
“Ahearn.” Sparda said, moving to sit across from Ahearn on the floor. Ahearn was still crying, his eyes dazed as he looked at the demon. Everything about him felt weak and pointless. What was the point of seeming strong now? What was the point in any of this? Sparda’s horns distorted and wobbled through Ahearn’s tears. “When you fought Lucifer? Did you talk to him?” It took a moment or two for Sparda’s words to form themselves into meaning for Ahearn. He nodded, once. “What did he say?”

“H-he said – ” Ahearn gulped, interrupting himself, “he said he was my father. I think it’s true. I don’t think I’m human.” Even to his own ears Ahearn’s voice sounded weak, like a child’s after a nightmare. Sparda didn’t seem to notice, however.
“I agree. I also think it’s true.” The Demon Lord paused, letting his words sink in. Ahearn’s eyes were still leaking, although a sort of numbness had overtaken them. “What do you want to do now?” “I – um – well.” Ahearn floundered for a moment. He didn’t remember the last time he had made up his own future. “I don’t know.”
“If you want, you can stay under me. I can help you, I think. I’ve never heard of a half-human before, but I know what it’s like to come into your power unexpectedly. You don’t have to though.” Ahearn thought for a moment. If he didn’t go with Sparda, what would he do? He certainly wasn’t going to turn sides and follow the Demon Army. He could join a group of bandits, there were plenty of them around, but they were as likely to try to kill him when he eventually slipped up. And if he stayed with Sparda, he could see Evelyn and her two brothers again. She brought such a shine with her, somehow.
“Ok. Yes, please.” Ahearn’s voice was barely above a whisper, and he avoided making eye contact with anyone. “What are you doing next?”

Sparda glanced up at the General who was still standing awkwardly near the door to the cell.
“The General and I have discussed the outcomes of this battle. We did excellently well, but the Demon Army will be able to recover no matter the number of foot soldiers we kill. They can easily be respawned in a Demon Lord’s castle in Hell. No, what we must do is kill or scare off as many Demon Lords as we can from Mundus’ army, and then strike when he’s run out of allies.”
“Will I help you with that?”
“Of course.” The General cut off Sparda before he could reply. “With the display you just pulled, we’d be mad not to use you in battle.”
“Oh. Err, I mean – ” Ahearn stood to attention in a flash, his brain finally calming down enough that his soldier’s reactions flew back to him with a snap. “SIR, YES SIR!” He saluted.
“Very good.” The General turned on his heel, the door snapping open in front of him. Beside Ahearn, Sparda got to his feet. Although he clearly misjudged the height of the ceiling, and both of his horns crashed into the stone roof with a dull thud.
“Ow.” He muttered.
“Oh, Soldier Ahearn. One more thing.” The General had stuck his head back around the door, completely ignoring the demon stuck slightly in the roof. “You were unconscious at the time, but as we declared the victory, I’ve also officially declared that I’m now to be addressed as ‘they’ or ‘them’ when necessary. That’s an order. But that doesn’t mean you should abandon ‘sir’ either. I am still your superior.”
“Yes sir!”

Chapter Text

TIMELINE:

- Monday 5th September 3 BC – The Demon Army encamps around the Stronghold of the Pine Trees

- Thursday 8th September 3 BC – in the evening the Demon Army attacks the Stronghold of the Pine Trees and destroys it

- Friday 9th September 3 BC – very early in the morning (just before sunrise ish) Sparda comes across Evelyn and the twins in the wreckage. He is amazed by her mental strength and swears she is his mistress. (Ch 1) They leave as the sun rises. They walk east for the whole day in silence. (Ch 2) In the evening, Sparda hunts a deer, after Evelyn discovers demons eat people. She also discovers Laura is ill and has a little breakdown. (Ch 3) Sparda watches the breakdown and is amazed that the twins, especially Robert, are able to support his big sister as she breaks down. He realises that the strength he admires is in fact all humans, and together with Robert begin to prepare the deer for eating. (Ch 4) As they cook, Robert tells Sparda the concept of hope, which he finds absolutely fascinating. Evelyn decides to try and heal Laura with encouragement from Sam. (Ch 5) Evelyn and Sparda go to a nearby creek to wash off Laura, at which point Evelyn takes off her headscarf, and Sparda sees yellow (her blonde hair), a colour he’s never seen before (he’s only seen brown, white, black, blue, purple, and red before) and finds beautiful. Evelyn explains the concept of beauty to him. Sparda spills to her doubts that he has been feeling about demons and mankind, and that in fact the ideas of hope and beauty make humans maybe better than demons. In return, Evelyn tells him of love, and offers to be his friend. Evelyn begins to see Sparda as a person, instead of a monster. However, as they are walking back to the camp, Laura dies. (Ch 6) Evelyn lashes out at Sparda, but then regrets it and finds him to apologise. They return to the camp and sleep. (Ch 7)

- Saturday 10th September 3 BC – In the morning, the four of them bury Laura. (Ch 8) They then walk for most of the day, Sparda gaining a lot of information about humans, and Evelyn learning that demon’s whole life is basically built around weapons and battle. Sparda becomes fascinated by the fact that humans can choose their own paths in life. Evelyn is half kidnapped by a bandit, who Sparda scares off instead of killing, feeling unable to kill a person anymore. (Ch 9) Evelyn is almost angry that Sparda didn’t kill him and begins to rethink her own stance on the death penalty.

- Sunday 11th September 3 BC – They walk for the whole morning. (Ch 10) That afternoon they are ambushed by 10 soldiers and Ahearn. Evelyn manages to talk Sparda and Ahearn out of killing one another after telling Ahearn that Pine Trees has fallen to the Demon Army. Ahearn takes them back to Stronghold of the Lake, which Sparda realises is the heart of Albion human resistance. (Ch 1) Ahearn enters the Stronghold to find the Captain of the Guard’s opinion, leaving his men and one guard guarding Sparda et al. (Ch 2) Captain Sloane of the Guard decides that it is too big of a decision for him. Meanwhile, Evelyn begins to get her guards to warm up to Sparda. (Ch 3) Ahearn waits outside the General’s house, who walks to meet Sparda with Ahearn and Sloane, bringing 60 men with them. Ahearn is horrified to find the men playing games with Sparda etc, but before battle can break out among them 30 flambats attack. (Ch 4) During this skirmish, Sparda loses his arm to save a random soldier because a fault in his armour. This convinces the General that Sparda is in fact an ally, who welcomes him into Lake, after learning the flambats mean the Demon Army is likely 2 weeks away. (Ch 5) After sending the soldiers away, Evelyn and the twins declare to Sparda that they want to live with him, and Sparda eventually relents. Chieftain Arlynn, General Cathal, Sparda, Evelyn, Robert, Sam, and Ahearn then return to the General’s barracks quarters. Ahearn is forced to wait outside as Arlynn, Cathal and Sparda (though mainly the latter two) begin to discuss how exactly the Demon Army works. (Ch 6) Sparda and Cathal continue to discuss, Sparda discovering that Cathal defeated Mundus’ elite, convincing Sparda that Cathal can defeat the army. Arlynn leaves and, after a while, the two Generals notice that Evelynn and the twins have fallen asleep. They leave them in Cathal’s bed, before going to look at the arcane items Cathal has collected and testing various magics. With this knowledge, they discuss long long into the night.

- Monday 12th September 3 BC – At around sunrise, Cathal and Sparda have a plan for the arrival of the Demon Army. Sparda delivers it to Arlynn, and Cathal goes to sleep after demoting Ahearn and putting him as the only soldier under the newly made Brigadier Sparda. (Ch 7) Evelyn wakes to find Sparda, who explains about his Brigadier-ship and Ahearn. She, Sam, and Robert head under Ahearn’s guidance to the Stronghold’s market for breakfast and new clothes, as only soldiers have been told of Sparda’s presence. (Ch 8) While Evelyn and the twins shop, Ahearn feels a certain camaraderie with her, as she reminds him of his older brother. When they return, Cathal leads them to the Stronghold population and Arlynn announces that Sparda will be helping them. (Ch 9) 25 people (20 men, 5 women) are taught by Sparda how to do basic magic. They far outshine him and by the end of the day are doing things with magic he didn’t realise was possible. However, during this he learns to distinguish sex through scent, and realises Cathal is AFAB. After asking her about it she explains that she lived as a woman, then pretended to be a noble man to be able to use her military powers to confront the Demon Army. She then explains that she doesn’t really feel like a man or a woman though, and Sparda suggests that she could be neither. Cathal begins to use they/them pronouns. (Ch 10)

- Tuesday 13th September 3 BC onwards – Time passes. Sparda teaches some people, Cathal grows close to Sparda, Ahearn and Evelyn and Co. grow closer. This continues for like 4 weeks.

- Friday 7th October 3 BC – Time has passed. There are now lots of magicians and Sparda has been accepted by most all in the village. Basically, all the women in the Stronghold trust him, and at least some of the men (soldiers) do. All the Stronghold are ready for attack. Cathal is even closer to Sparda. Overtime, Cathal has come to terms with being out (to Sparda) as bigender, Ahearn is really questioning his fondness for Sparda and Evelyn ‘n’ Co., feeling he is betraying his brother. Sparda has discovered the joys of human food after being pushed to the edge by repeated use as a target. (Ch 11)

- Saturday 8th October 3 BC – During the mid-morning, Captain Rhys and the Western Contingent of the Challenger Corps discover the Demon Army very close to the Stronghold. They report to Cathal, who sets the plan in motion. Evelyn and the twins are put into the Chieftain’s Hall with civilians and Ahearn returns to the Western Contingent. The Demon Army arrive that night and encamp around the Stronghold, ready to scare them for 3 days straight before wiping them off the face of the earth.

- Sunday 9th October 3 BC– Before the Demon Army has time to attack, however, mid-morning while most lesser demons are asleep, mankind strike, bringing a terrifying volley down upon the Demon Army. It scatters, chaos erupts among them. (Ch 12) Eventually, Mundus brings them back together and orders Abigail to assault the Stronghold with essentially artillery and Malphas to infantry. Abigail gets nowhere as the humans have a totally epic shield that stops all of her attacks from getting through, and although Malphas does find a ‘weak point’ in the shield to attack, this turns out to be a trap, leading to a maze of death filled with traps that her entire army dies upon, including her officer Artemis whose soul is stolen by Machiavelli. Malphas nearly dies, constructing herself a slap-dash body out of a chicken chick which looks so horrible and leaves her so weak (forcing a chicken chick to hold the soul of a Demon Lord is no mean feat magically) she surrenders and goes to sulk in Hell until Urizen eventually finds her, I guess. (Ch 13)

- Monday 10th October 3 BC – The night passes with only a few pot-shots either way, but the next morning mankind leaves their shield to attack the Demon Army. They soften them up with chariot attacks before advancing a shield wall. However, the chariots are decimated by an attack of Lusachia before the shield wall breaks under the attack of 7 Gigapedes. General Cathal tries desperately to marshal the infantry together to keep attack as chaos breaks out, man-to-demon fighting. Later in the battle, Modeus catches sight of Sparda fighting on the side on humans. He and Baul have a violent reaction to this, and go away to discuss it. Baul is disgusted, and brands Sparda a traitor, asking Modeus to join him in surpassing Sparda to become the greatest swordsman in Hell together. Modeus declines, saying he agrees with Sparda. Baul goes ballistic, threatening and begging Modeus not to go. Modeus declines, forswearing use of a sword, before opening a portal (via Hell) to Scandinavia. (Ch 14) Meanwhile, Evelyn has had enough of waiting for the battle to be over and escapes the civilian bunker to join the fighting. She battles 4 Red Empusas and an Empusa Queen before we leave her POV. Also during the battle, Sparda fights Pandora, struggling a little with their shapeshifting and personality shifting abilities, before finally setting fire to them, forcing them to exhaust themselves while trying to find a form to escape the fire. However, before Sparda can collect their soul as a Devil Arm, Machiavelli steals it. (Ch 15) Ahearn faces off against Lucifer. Lucifer announces himself as Ahearn’s father, and Ahearn doesn’t believe him, attacking Lucifer to the point where Lucifer gives up and sheesh-kebabs Ahearn with a fuckton of swords. This awakens his demon heritage, and he gains his DT. He then proceeds to get curb-stomped again by Lucifer, causing him to wonder if he needs yet more power to get his revenge. Mirroring his thoughts, Lucifer offers him power if he serves him. Ahearn is tempted, but declines, realising that for the first time since his brother died he actually has hope. Using this knowledge, he unlocks his demon power of like doppelganger but it’s a rose, and Lucifer dies. Ahearn takes Lucifer’s soul before he collapses in exhaustion (Ch 16). Soon after Pandora’s defeat Mundus retreats. Evelyn, having lost two fingers at this point, isn’t doing so well. She meets up with some other magicians, however, (incl Gilda and Borak) who heals her. Together, they come up with magician subcategories to properly denote what a specific magician is good at. They then find Sparda, who’s a little put out at Evelyn being on the battlefield, until she shows him she totally kicked ass. Sparda then finds Ahearn and surmises that he is a demon pretending to be Ahearn, and takes him back to the Stronghold. Cathal and Sparda then have a debrief and plan for what comes next.

- Tuesday 11th October 3 BC – The stronghold has had a chance to calm down after the battle. Wounded are being healed, dead are buried etc. Cathal and Sparda announce the next moves for the war. Cathal also comes out as they/them, and is accepted for the most part because they just won a battle. Against the Demon Army. This has literally never been done before. There is all round jubilation

- Friday 14th October 3 BC – Ahearn wakes up and is immediately questioned by Sparda and Cathal. He initially tries to hide everything, but accidentally DTs. It all gets a bit too much and he has a breakdown, prompting Sparda to realise he is in fact half human because devils never cry. Ahearn agrees to fight under Sparda in the war, General Cathal annouces they have come out as they/them and the fic closes with a lame joke (Ch 17).

CHARACTERS

Evelyn: You know who Evelyn is.

• Evelyn’s birthday is in winter. She was born in 17 BC

Sam – sensitive twin. They’re 8, btw, therefore born 11 BC

Robert – head strong twin

Ahearn – captain of the west contingent (challenger corps)

• Ahearn himself was a mean-looking man. He was tall and thin, but in a way that made it look like he had been forged from pure iron. Iron from swords, mind you. His hair was a dirty blonde, almost light brown, and pulled into a small ponytail with such severity that his face seemed to almost float over his neck. It wasn’t flattering, considering the myriad of scars that pockmarked his face, everything from small burns to slashes. From the looks of it, they continued down below the hem of his tunic. He didn’t have many wrinkles though, and overall looked young despite the frankly terrifying number of scars. His eyes were a dull, muted light hazel, and seemed to perpetually glare at everyone.
• Grew up in Ancient Greece, the second civilisation to fall to the demon army after Egypt. His real name is Aischylos, he only changed it to Ahearn to try and flee to Albion. He and his brother (Menexious) managed to escape the destruction of Greece (Sparta), living hand to mouth watching home after home burn around them, forever running. His brother told him tales of Egypt, how prosperous it was there, so after he watched his brother get disembowelled by Lucifer, he travels to Egypt, only to find it totally overrun with demons. He managed to escape by the skin of his teeth, vowing that the only thing important in life is staying alive long enough to take revenge upon demons.
• Has seen his home and everyone he’s ever known destroyed relentlessly so many times he’s almost hopeless. He’s looking for revenge, not to keep the human race alive. He’s too bitter to really think mankind isn’t doomed and has a personal vendetta against Lucifer for obvious reasons. Deep-seated hatred for all demons. Is probably like 33ish

Captain of the Guard (Sloane) – an older Captain. Born and bred in the Stronghold of the Lake. Comes from one of the highest noble families. Not especially intelligent but thorough and dogged to a tee. Has been at the soldiering game for a while, was a young captain even before the Demonic Invasion began in England, and so had become more mellowed with time. Do not take this for indifference though!

General Cathal –

• The General was slim and short, but wiry as steel with deep tanned skin. Sharp eyes gazed at and right through Ahearn, unsettling him with their steely, grey gaze. It left the Captain instantly in no doubt about who exactly was in charge and why. The General’s hair was longer than was proper for a soldier, straight and wispy it floated around his head like a loose halo. His posture and perceptive, all-encompassing gaze suggested he was young, although his hair had only a few remaining strands of black among the washed-out grey, and his skin was wrinkled and withered, prematurely aging him even past Captain Sloane. He was wearing a soldier’s blue tunic, although Ahearn hadn’t known there was as much gold thread in the world as adorned its edges and wound in curling trails through the material. On one side hung an ambaxtor’s sword, although once glance and Ahearn could tell it had never been used in anger, and probably not even unsheathed half a dozen times. They also have grey eyes
• Was in the first Stronghold of Albion to fall (Stronghold of the Crashing Waves). Travelled for a while as a woman, fleeing from stronghold to destroyed stronghold. Wasn’t a noble at all, but happened to watch a number of generals, and realised they were all dumb as shit compared to them. Tried and failed to advise them because women can’t be good tacticians. Said fuck this shit, took up the name Cathal instead, and pretended to be a man, which they were really surprised to find everyone was just like yeah seems right to me. Physically a prematurely aged, Jon Sims-hair Sir Integra. Is 39 when we meet them

Soldier John – guard who takes Ahearn back to the Stronghold

Soldier Dylan – a guard, in a contingent with Soldier John and two others

Soldier Rhys – a soldier of the West Contingent, natural born leader who really shouldn’t be a foot soldier. Promoted into Ahearn’s place when he is given special duty to guide Sparda & Co.

Soldier Callum – One of the foot soldiers of the Western Contingent. Born and raised in what previously were the farming families from the area around Lake. Quite open minded, as he has seen little battle, and honestly prefers soldiering to farming

Soldier Owen – Also part of the Western Contingent. I dunno man, he has a character I guess

Soldier Ben – Western Contingent

Soldier Henry – Western Contingent

Soldier Matthew – see above

Chieftain Arlynn – born and bred within Stronghold of the Lake. Eldest son of his father the Chief, and therefore groomed since a young age to lead. Perfectly adequate leader, but he is skilled at bureaucracy and management rather than battle plans

Tara – a slightly world-weary, middle-aged, married and at least 1 (probably more, let's face it) -child weaver raised in the Stronghold of the Lake

Gilda – a young, very talented seamstress. Was born in the Stronghold of the Deep Ditch (Old Sarum) and fled to Stronghold of the Lake recently, worsening her shyness into borderline anxiety. One of the first to be taught magic. Her talent at healing with magic has helped her a lot with her anxiety, as it gives her a space where she knows she is right, and can do something to help people

Connor – a young, very thin, very pale, messy-haired Irishman and refugee to the Stronghold of the Lake, and very very skilled painter, using his skills mostly for crockery. One of the first to be taught magic

Vidrna – an Persepolisian/Achaemenian cook and refugee to Stronghold of the Lake. One of the first to be taught magic

Captain Benjamin – probably Jewish, Benjamin is a Hebrew name. Definitely a nobleman and leader of the Cavalry/Charioteers

Borak - young Selecuian man (modern day Iran). High cheekbones, unreasonably attractive, deep skin and rich accent. A bit young to grow a beard just yet but let me tell you by heck he can. Deep, thoughtful eyes. Only just older than Evelyn (probably born Spring 17 BC?)

Army of the Stronghold of the Lake:

• 11 in Contingents for the cardinal directions (Challenger Corps) (N,S,E,W), 10 patrol every day, 1 has the day off - They are specially trained to go beyond the embankments and for battle, green uniform, no shields, use swords and long spears. Do not have any armour as it can weigh them down and interfere with stealth, although captains may use mail when going into battle if they can afford it
  • 1 Captain of the Contingent for each 11
• 16 Guards (total) – 4 in every gate and 4 with the week off – wear red, use long oval shields and short, throwing spears, trained for battle and special training for guarding protocols. All wear chainmail under a second red tunic. In the summer this can get uncomfortably hot
  • 1 Captain of the Guard, who also is in charge of the Contingent of Soldiers who patrol the embankment for a fortnight
• 30 Contingents of 30 infantry soldiers – wear blue, kite-shaped shield, long spear, and axe, trained for battle and patrolling the embankments. Will have chainmail shirts if they can afford them, most all captains have chain mail shirts
  • 1 Captain for each contingent (30)
• 1 cavalry contingent of 50 soldiers – wear black, ride in chariots, one with heavy armour, again down to personal wealth but as they are almost all noblemen to the lowest is chainmail and the highest is chainmail, helmet and early plate armour and a spear or two, one with nothing but their black tunic and a dagger (usually servants of the noblemen or civilians who could not otherwise serve in the army i.e. farmers, blacksmiths etc) only called upon before battle
  • 1 Captain for the whole corps
• 5 contingents of 20 spearmen – wear yellow, much like the Anglo-Saxon huscarls they are heavily armoured and use their shields and spears to form a phalanx on the battlefield, wear mail shirts and helmets all
  • 1 Captain for each contingent, although they will fight alongside in the shield-wall
• 4 contingents of 25 bowmen – wear dark green for stealth, most will also have a dagger of some kind for emergencies, as well as a longbow and a hip-quiver of arrows
  • 1 Captain for each contingent
• 1 General for everything
• Totals: 1,210 Soldiers; 45 Captains; 1 General
• A carnyx was a Celtic battle horn

Chapter Text

Hello everyone! This is not an official chapter and won't be here for more than a week, I just wanted to let you all know that the lovely and absolutely wonder madamadamiu has made FANART of this series!!! WOOOWWW!!! They're INCREDIBLE. Please lavish lots and lots of praise on them because it looks SO COOL. I have also added a link to the art in the chapter that they drew inspiration from, if anyone wants to stare in awe of if forever more (I know I sure do!).

Thanks again for keeping reading and look out for the third fic in the series going up in just under two weeks!

https://postimg.cc/kDspNXPJ