Chapter 673: True Demonlord [4]

"You're more experienced than I," commented the pragmatic leader.

"Experience doesn't matter when faced with a battle strategy. Of course, the more experienced leader will have a pool to draw from. Can't exclude natural talent, and you have it, the qualities of a good leader."

"Guys," Aptha pointed to the field, "-the mist, it's rising."

"What's the time?" fired Meza.

"Nearly 18:00," replied Jonl.

"We need to go, like right now," they dashed down the stairs, "-we're out of here, trust me."

"The fog figure?" they gulped.

"Yeah, getaway, let's run, I'm not losing more men in this pointless battle."

The sun dipped and rose repetitively onto the 29th of October. A familiar yet quite impressive chance of atmosphere and scenery trumped the solemn depart from home. In a way, the town felt nostalgic. The jet gripped the runway, as did the sun over yonder, a few hours later – the vampiric lair stood sternly before the cloudy background. 'Finally, home,' he drove and parked, unbranded transport trucks arrived to unload cargo. The workers hastily did their due and left; part of the rush was the sternly stood Éclair at the doors. 

"Welcome back, master."

"Good to be home," he replied, "-I'll take a shower," he faced Vanesa, "-what about you?"

"I'll take a shower too!"

"We ought to freshen up," added Aceline confidently, "-come here, Vanesa, we'll have fun in the bath." 

"Okay," said a cheery jingle and off they were inside the large space, Éclair pulled closer and whispered, "-is the lady sane?"

"Worry not, here I present the effect of closing curtains. Her past was nicely put behind, she joyfully reunited with her best friend, and they made up instantly."

"I see," they walked inside, "-what about the princess?" 

The pace slowed to a snail's rival, '-I never realized the lobby to be such a grandiose area. The paintings are sublime, the décor must have cost a fortune. The chandelier, I didn't bother taking in my surroundings. How big of an idiot must I be, the trip home sure return prospective on matters.'

"My lord, is everything ok?" inquired Éclair, the troubled silence wane heavily.

"Oh, don't worry about it," he cheerfully tapped the butler's shoulder, "-Princess Eira's headed for her new home. Her marriage is undisclosed, I hope it happens quickly. I mean, the emperor did somewhat announce their relation." 

"Pardon my boldness, you seem fresher and changed." 

"Oh yes," he smiled, "-I faced my aunt and lady mother. Holding the grudge didn't seem appropriate, I figured, why not bury the hatchet. In other news, I've moved from Viscount to Prince in the title. Arda's under new rulership, and I'm in line for the throne. The Duchess of Rotherham is Queen of Arda. Not that it matters. The proud title of Viscount shall not leave me so easily." 

"Is it official?"

"The ceremony is in a few days. The leadership soon returns the place to a normal balance," paused before the shower, "-I'll freshen up. Have the paintings be ordered neatly at the gallery. We'll go over the next course of action." 

In a twist of fate, a pair of rumbunctious demons returned home. 'Those two again,' he hastened to the lobby, "-well, looky 'ere," snarled Éclair, "-we have a drunkard Asmodeus and a fatigued Kul."

"Don't start with the preaching," *hic* "-I wanted to show my ladies a good time. Instead, they showed me a good time, we had fun for 1 day and night straight, man, they missed me so much."

"Shut up," *smack,* "-Asmodeus, you're a pest, go to hell."

"Why slap me," he frowned, "-come on, Kul, you know you wanted to join in the fun."

"I'd rather die," she turned her forehead to Éclair, "-help me take this loser upstairs."

"Alright," obliged the butler. The cacophonous stumble and tumbles of a heavy drunkard echoed till the room, "-I appreciate the help," said Kul.

"Are you both alright?" he wondered.

"Why do you care?" she narrowed.

"Because we're comrades, aren't we?" 

"Éclair," she smiled and gave a hug, "-we're comrades, you right. I'll go take a bath, see you in a bit."

"WAIT-" she dashed for the hall with her jacket thrown onto the bed, '-masters…' settled at the wide opened entrance, '-I suppose it's fine, cliches are a must at times.'

Water ran, she reached inside without knowledge of another, "-hello Kul," said Igna, "-quite the coincidence," dressed and proper, "-have a nice bath," he nodded from the next door.

"Thank you," she smiled. And no, they didn't use the same room, actually, the place was made in a way to avoid such unnecessary troubles. The bath sure was occupied, the laughter and jests of Aceline and Vanesa rang true, "-am I intruding?"

"No," they replied, "-the jacuzzi is large enough for five people. Come on, join in, the view outside sure is one to relish." 

Towel around the neck and moisture under the feet, a few scattered glances about the fuller manor brought comfort. Soon, the sweet aroma of food seductively pulled onto the nostrils and palette. '-Éclair's grown as a chef; I can sense it.' 

Flames rose in waves; the cooking station was handled expertly by one who had done his research. "Master, I've prepared coffee."

"Awesome," the warmness immediately begone a relieved sigh. A gulp warmed the inside with the care of a mother, "-what have you been up to, Éclair?" quick on the uptake, he seamlessly joined the fray and helped in food preparation. 

"A lot of things actually. Shall I give a report?"

"Go ahead, I'm all ears." 

"As pleased. When the master left for Hidros, I resumed activities in the infiltration of the underworld. I gathered intel from many o' sources, good to say the agency is quite popular, their clienteles are the hidden millionaires of the world, people who manage a lot of businesses through other people, and let me say something, they are getting paid. The more information I gathered, the easier it became to paint a picture of what we can expect. The Ravens have made a stark remark in the underworld. The name's not well-known – they know us via the gambling den. The idea to use Asmodeus's power and influence over human vices is unparalleled, we give away money at times but bring in so much more. In the time you were away, we made in the millions from gambling alone. Obviously, it's dirty money, I've somewhat laundered it," he flicked and the phone vibrated, "-here our current Raven balance; 10,034,000. It's not grand, I know – but still, that's the amount I filtered. The stockpile of Angel's dust and God's ale downstairs are filled to the brim. I had to order the puppets to stop. By the current marketplace value, for each bag of 10 kg we sell, we get around 200,000 exa. And, let me tell you, those bags are tiny and easy to hide. The makeshift storehouse has approximately 500 bags, then again, it's too small, the grand total is 100,000,000 if we sell, and I'm not counting the god's ale. It's cheap profit. The Anti-Narco unit hasn't sniffed Odgawoan, the families are pumping money to keep them shut. We should really think of a plan for distribution. Between the Ravens and our narcotic endeavor, matters look fine for the future."

"Sure, it does," he paused, "-whatever the price is, they are but bags of white powder gathering dust. It's going to be hard to sell, unless," the eyes shimmered, "-the gambling den…"

"Right on the money," he winked, "-we'll use it to slowly entice customers, who in turn will spread rumors of our high-quality products. The families will be angry, and would most likely look for the supplier, and then, we'll but retail them the bags, they'll do the dirty work."

"For that to come true, we need support from law enforcement. The chief of police," he smirked, "-she owes us a few favors, we might need to have a little chat." 

"I knew you'd see the bigger picture."

"The plan is well thought out. The question remains, what's the Raven been up to?"

"We're in process of taking over the Luon Family. The fuse for upheaval has been lit a long time ago – the last warning has been delivered. They need to act now else it's do or die." 

"I suppose I did say for you to conquer the underworld."

"Yes, we can't afford to stain thy public image. Speaking of which, have you checked the Arcanum lately?"

"Too lazy to check social media," he sighed, "-come on, the food's ready. I'll set the table, call onto the others. Take this," a potion conjured, "-it should help the drunkard Asmodeus."

*Emergency broadcast,* flashed across the phone, *-the AHA have been stumped by the newest invasion. Anywho can read said message, make for the northern side of town. Any help will be appreciated, an outbreak of infection has broken out the hospice.*

Fingers to the earring, "-what's the meaning of the broadcast?"

"No idea really, they must have used the general channel for law enforcement. They are in dire straits, what should we do?"

"The monster plague," quick on the holographic display, "-I have an idea. Search for a pharmaceutical firm on the brink of bankruptcy and buy them out – who said the money can only be made using dark drugs, the pure ones are often the worse of the bunch. I'm headed for the battlefield; I doubt the princess to join. My inherited knowledge should easily find a cure for the curse." 

"Always scheming," he chuckled, "-I'll get right on it."

The readied dining table full of delicious meals was left untouched, Éclair and Igna vanished. Aceline and Vanesa arrived to breathe sighs of disbelief, heresy, she proclaimed, "-the food is cold!" cried the little one. 

"How's the situation?" fired across the communication channel.

"Pretty bad," replied Meza, "-we're evacuating the patients. I can't believe the monster grew stronger in two days, what the hell is this?"

"Don't complain," returned Jonl, "-Aptha, hang back, don't rush in yet!"

"BUT, THERE'S A KID ON THE STREET."

"Ignore him!" he shouted, "-the boy's infected, the life signs are gone."

"ENEMIES TO THE LEFT!" cried one over another channel.

'God damn,' the scoped locked, '-come on,' he breathed, *thud, thud,* '-fire,' he pulled between the heartbeat. 

A whistle and snap startled the girl, '-was that Jonl?'

"Good shot," complimented other vigilantes, "-we'll push back the monsters. Meza's party, keep looking after our fallen. Aptha, good job healing the wounded." Crowds to the left and right, images sprinted past, a blink, and one would miss the death of a comrade. Vigilantes fell, the monsters, skeletons in heavy armor, used bows and swords, in addition to them came the fallen infected vigilantes. The more they killed, the more people turned, and in turn, the more the fight harshened. 

"Where are the damned heroes?" *BANG,* grenades rang the cacophony of chaos. 

'Keep the head down and shuffle along. Use what Meza taught you, Aptha, you can do this,' she slithered across to an abandoned shop.

"Are you the medic?" said a man doused in blood.

"Yes," she gulped, "-how're the casualties?"

"Look for yourself," a side-glance through the broken window – living beings were impaled, heads were sliced, the streets marred red. *SMACK,* a rock narrowly missed her face and exploded whatever was behind, '-oh god help me,' she gulped. 

"-Please help us," begged the injured, the hospice, a few minutes away, was blocked by a fallen building, the latter broke and crumbled suspiciously. 

"WHERE ARE THE FUCKING HEROES!" cried the channel.

"No idea!" replied Jonl, "-sorry boys, I'm nearly out of ammo. They caught us off guard."

"No…" whimpered along, "-NO, NO, IT'S THEM, IT'S THEM, RUN FOR YOU-" the transmission cut. 

"Everyone, listen," said Meza, "-the advance party was wiped out, last words were fog, The bosses are coming, anyone unable to fight, get off the battlefield. The AHA is on their way, let's hold out until then!"

"NO DEAL, MEZA, WE'RE DEAD." 

'So much panic, this should be a nice fight.'