Demonic Devourer's Development

The sight of burning cart reminded me of Hell. The liquid they put in lanterns was quite flammable, and so were the things they made the books from around here. Paper, was it? Another thing to marvel at, another thing I had no time to learn more about.

Bishop didn't like it, but didn't protest. Without the burden of the cart, we were left with a much easier way of escape—he knew about a hidden passage that led outside of the city. Apparently, it was used by people who wanted to get in without having to pay for the right to bring and sell their goods at the main entrance. Or if they wanted to bring forbidden goods.

The complex legal system was another thing that fascinated me. It seemed needlessly complicated, but at the same time, somehow worked… And well enough.

By the time sun rose, I and the gaggle of Devourer's (or should I call him Voren, since it appeared to be the name he adopted here?) cultists found shelter at a secluded cave with a well-hidden entrance—their out-of-the-city refuge and gathering place. It was clean, lit with lanterns, and even had some furniture, including beds—and a few other cultists that were happy to see Bishop and shocked to see me.

We had to leave the explanations until evening, though. Everyone who came with me was sleeping on their feet, no matter how well or how stubbornly they hid it. Some had wounds that were barely bandaged before, and could only be properly attended now.

I watched their fussing from the side, accessing the resources I got. These people weren't fighters, but there was a mix of fear and awe in the gazes they threw at me (except for Bishop and Yvenna—the former had only devotion, and what the latter felt beyond ire was a mystery even for my eyes, experienced in finding the subtle letters of the script of inner thoughts on people's faces).

They might not be big fighters, but they would be willing to go far for the cause, and that was a valuable resource as well. The rest—the task I was given—was a matter of using it well.

It was closer to the night when Bishop woke up. I had time to catch a nap, too, so we both were much better rested by the time we sat down in a small room that must've been an office—with a table and a couple of crude chairs. There were shelves with books, too—but much fewer than in that cart. It appeared to me that Bishop loathed to part with even a smallest piece of his hoard of texts.

He jumped me with questions first. "My lord… the Master of Sin," Bishop frowned, stuttering at the form of address. "Please, tell, how I call you?"

"Just master will be fine… Or lord, or what is it you find appropriate in your hierarchy." I shrugged and leaned forward, smiling. "I did not make all this way here to listen to my name. My name is one thing I won't forget with or without reminders, just like you, I'm sure, won't forget who's in the lead of your flock now, Bishop. Me."

He bowed to me. "It wasn't in my thoughts to ever go against you, my lord. As long as your will is that of our lord Devourer, as you stated when we met." The man's sharp eyes looked at me from under his thick eyebrows.

My smile slightly curved up on one end. So the old man wasn't without some spine. Well, well. Good thing, good thing that our goals aligned. "They sure are. We both are his loyal servants, sworn into his service, ready to fight, kill and die for him, and so on and so forth. I can talk about our shared loyalties for another half an hour and all it would do is bringing some air into this cave."

Bishop raised his head, and though his face stayed serious, his eyes smiled. "This is absolutely true, my lord. Not to say that our shelter doesn't need fresh air now and then."

I snorted. "For that, there are other people. I will, instead, tell you about what Devourer needs you all for… then, I'm sure, you will trust me more."

I explained to Bishop what Devourer shared with me about his plans to attack the gods' vulnerabilities in the mortal realm, as well as sending demons in his disguise to further confuse them. I even had a list of planned targets—pretty vague one, with Devourer's limited information, but it was something.

"You, his church, may not be fighters as mighty as Devourer's chosen demons, but you possess information he does not have. Therefore, as the task that was given to me is to coordinate your actions with the actions of his primary force, you must find and strike targets Devourer cannot aim at. Those he knows too little about. Even though he has his sources of information here besides you, ones he can assess even in Hell… They are limited and not to be relied upon fully. No. This attack would be the secret from anyone—cloaked in the deepest shadow and made with the sharpest dagger. Right into the enemy's heart." Still smiling, I drew my claw on the tabletop of the stone table, leaving a deep scratch.

Bishop's eyes shone. "This… The hour of reckoning had finally come? The prophecies are coming true. The gods that strayed from their path are going to fall! Oh, I fear many of my brothers and sisters might die in this war, but it would be the deaths that will give them the greatest reward—the reward of true fulfilment. Our lord Devourer, how could I ever doubt that even forced into hiding, you never abandoned your holy mission!"

I blinked. "The prophecies? The holy mission? What strange things you speak are, Bishop?"

Bishop paused, then smiled—slowly, in a way that lit his entire face, and way too brightly for my liking.