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"The servants in question were quiet and kept to themselves," the head butler stammered, his face growing pale. "And the intruders had clearly studied their behaviors. My subordinates… they saw no changes to report."
"That is… disappointing," Rofocale said, his voice flat. "I expected more from my head butler."
The man paled further under the Lord Lucifuge's cold, red gaze. Rofocale had already made up his mind. If his head butler could not admit his mistakes and stand before him with confidence, then he was not fit for the position.
The guard captain, feeling his master's attention shift to him, spoke up again.
"Regarding the identification amulets, my lord," Vyshot said, "in a way, they were on their owners."
"Explain."
"The three captured demons were carrying the severed hands of the servants, with the amulets still attached. Magic was used to keep the hands… viable. Our mages are studying them now."
"I see," Rofocale said. "I expect a written report on this, with proposed solutions for this gap in our magical security, in two days. By then, I will have decided on a suitable punishment for all those responsible. Lincus," he said to the head butler, "you may leave us. I have no more questions for you at this time."
The head butler bowed silently and left the study, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as the door closed.
The guard captain watched him go with a flash of envy before turning his attention back to Lord Lucifuge.
The man's presence filled the room, a palpable aura of power that made lesser beings want to bow their heads.
Rofocale tapped his fingers on the massive wooden desk. "What have you learned about their objective?"
"Their goal was to eliminate Inflis Lucifuge and, if possible, seize the recipes for the new medicines. All three are wanted renegades. The one who contacted them on behalf of the client is being tracked by my men. We were unable to learn the client's identity, but the assassins were promised one hundred thousand eskels and a pardon. They were shown the seal of the House of Asmodeus as proof that the offer was legitimate."
"And they simply accepted the task?" Rofocale asked, a single eyebrow raised in surprise. Assassinating a descendant of one of the Six Great Houses was a bold, if not suicidal, move.
"The negotiator and his squad found the renegades and gave them an ultimatum. Either they accept the mission, or the negotiator would collect the bounty on their heads himself."
"Were any hereditary powers of the Pillar houses displayed?"
"None of the assassins saw any such powers from the negotiator or his men, who were all clad in full armor."
"I see," Rofocale said. "Continue your investigation and upgrade the estate's defenses. And I expect this to be the last such mistake you make. Otherwise, I will have to find a new guard captain."
"It will be done, my lord." The blond demon bowed and left the study, his mind already racing with plans.
Alone, the silver-haired demon poured a healing potion into a crystal glass and downed it in one gulp.
The cool liquid soothed the burning pain of the scar on his chest. He turned to the window, his gaze falling on the garden his wife had created so many years ago. His mind raced with possibilities.
An assassination attempt using the seal of Asmodeus was almost certainly a provocation, a clumsy attempt to sow discord.
But there was a small chance it was genuine. Some of the Satan descendants were not known for their intelligence.
But before he could dwell on it further, there was a knock on the door. He felt a familiar aura, one that had surpassed his own in strength decades ago.
A proud, fatherly smile touched his lips for a brief moment before he smoothed it away.
A servant peeked in, and he nodded.
A second later, a silver-haired demoness with a straight back and a cold expression entered the room.
"Father."
"Daughter," he said. "You wish to speak with me?"
"Yes," she replied, her voice firm. "I wish to discuss the attempt on my brother's life, and the measures that will be taken to ensure his protection…"
Rofocale felt another headache coming on. It seemed he was having to spend more and more time thinking about his younger son, the one whose very existence was a painful reminder of Merriel's death.
….
"Lord Bael, I share your views on the current situation," a blond-haired demon said, moving a chess piece. "But I believe such… radical steps are too risky at this time."
"A risky venture, indeed," Zekram Bael replied, a thoughtful look on his ancient face. "But as the mortals say, sometimes you must amputate the leg to save the body. We have more time than a man with a rotting limb, of course, but it is not infinite. Who knows that better than you, Lord Agares?"
"Your tongue and your mind are as sharp as ever," Lord Agares chuckled, conceding the game. "But let us postpone this interesting conversation. A jealous wife awaits me at home."
"Ha ha. I understand completely," Zekram laughed. "I wish you strength in your… endeavors."
After his guest had departed through a teleportation circle, Zekram Bael stared at the chessboard. A moment later, a man with an unremarkable face entered the room and stood silently.
"Speak," Zekram commanded.
"All three assassins sent to the Lucifuge estate have been captured and are being held in the dungeons."
"The young Lucifuge?"
"Alive. They failed."
"A pity," Zekram murmured. "That complicates matters. You are dismissed."
The man vanished as silently as he had appeared.
"Another five or six years, and the war must begin," the ancient demon whispered to himself. "Any later, and it may be too late."
With a flick of his finger, he knocked over the enemy king, which had been in checkmate for several moves.
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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)
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