The Demon Prince laughed, the ancient stones trembled, and fiery pillars of destruction and creation shot out from the depths of the volcano. This was enough for him to understand what Helmer had meant when he’d called his ruler the ‘personification of the Demon Lands.’ Hadjar felt like he’d already heard about something similar. Something about the physical embodiment of the hills or mountains. However, he couldn’t remember what he’d heard, exactly. An eidetic memory was almost useless when you had to sift through decades of experiences.

“He wants to know why I…” The Prince struck the armrest of his throne and Hadjar felt the vibrations. “Why I invited... him…”

There was no doubt that if it hadn’t been for Helmer’s protection, he would’ve been destroyed on the spot.

“By the Extinguished Stars, slave, why didn’t you tell me that your mortal friend was such a funny little bag of flesh?”

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” Helmer bowed his head deeper.

The laughing Prince suddenly froze and slightly narrowed his white eyes at him.

“Know your place, dog. I didn’t allow you to speak.” He snapped his fingers.

Hadjar didn’t understand what had just happened, but Helmer coughed and then wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He tried to hide it in the folds of his torn cloak before Hadjar saw it, but he failed. Hadjar couldn’t believe his eyes. Something was definitely wrong here. However, he knew almost nothing about the demons and their lands. Perhaps it was normal for humanlike, red blood to flow through the veins of one of the most powerful entities in this region.

“Well,” the Prince looked at Hadjar. Their eyes met and neither of them looked away. “Our interests, Wind of the Northern Valleys, have had the misfortune of intersecting in the Mortal Lands several times already.”

The Mortal Lands was one of the ancient names for them. All those who had lived since the beginning of time divided the world into four realms: the Mortal Lands, the Spirit Lands, the Demon Lands, and the Seventh Heaven.

“It has been quite irksome,” the Prince continued. “Moreover, I still owe you a favor, despite the fact that you managed to disrupt my plans and destroy a rather valuable outpost.” The Prince paused.

It was a common practice for a ruler. If Hadjar started apologizing, he would take on the burden of paying back this debt. If he started bragging somehow, he would insult the Prince and would then be calmly challenged to a duel. Considering that his deal with Helmer included Hadjar in the Prince’s sphere of ‘responsibility,’ it wouldn’t end well. So, Hadjar chose the only correct tactic — he remained silent.

The Prince smiled with his eyes alone. His smile was predatory and carnivorous, but at the same time, it was also calm. He had seen dozens, if not hundreds of thousands, like Hadjar before, and they had all sunk into the abyss eventually, while he was still sitting on his throne.

“Your father taught you well, little Prince,” the Prince said. “That night, my warriors couldn’t take your parents’ lives directly, but... it turns out that everything went as it should. Your aunt died. Your uncle went mad. Your throne was usurped.”

Hadjar’s eyes widened from the wild rage that overwhelmed his whole being and his incredible surprise.

Stop! A desperate cry sounded in his head. He’s luring you into a trap. He’s playing with you like a cat plays with a mouse. The Prince has nothing to do with your family, Hadjar. It was just an accident, nothing more. Don’t believe him.

Hadjar’s heart was beating fast. He remembered how Nero’s mother had died. He remembered that because of the gods’ mistake, the mistake of the ones who wrote in the accursed Book of Thousands, the army of Lidus had found itself surrounded by hordes of demons instead of nomads.

The Prince, watching Hadjar’s mental struggle, simply kept smiling.

“You’re thinking about whether I’m deceiving you or not, aren’t you? Well, my words are partly false, and they are partly true. Like everything else in this world. Everything has both a beginning and an end inside its short path.”

It took a huge effort of will for Hadjar to release the hilt of his Blue Blade. He knew that if he drew his sword, he would die here and now, but not drawing it was a much worse fate. Not trying to repay someone for the deaths of almost his whole family… There was no honor in it. It was as his father had once said: A man can be killed, but he can never afford to be humiliated by dishonor.

“I didn’t know that you, honorable Prince, are a philosopher.”

“We’re all philosophers, you sack of flesh and blood,” the demon blew on his claws and extended them toward his strange animal. It began to chew on them enthusiastically. “When you step not on the earth, but on the fragments of stars broken by old age, you look into eternity, realizing that it’s your only companion on this path.”

“And a poet,” Hadjar added.

“I’ve heard rumors that,” the Prince cast a quick glance at Helmer. A trickle of blood was running down his beard. “You are not a stranger to the art of music and poetry yourself, you creature of flesh and blood.”

‘Flesh and blood’ was a general term for everyone who hadn’t been created from primordial energies. Fae, Spirits, demons, and gods had, in fact, been made of the same materials initially, but over thousands of epochs, in the forge of their own aspirations, they had changed so dramatically.

Hadjar automatically touched his spatial ring, inside which his old Ron’Jah rested. How long had it been since his fingers had touched its strings?

“You’re right, honorable Prince,” he nodded. “Yet, for me, the stars are still the guides of eternity, and not its servants, so…” He trailed off.

The Prince laughed again. The volcano spat fire and lightning once more.

“Did you hear that, slave?” The Prince turned to the kneeling Helmer. “A flesh and blood puppet is hurrying me along. Hurrying. Me. Along. Hah! I can’t remember having such a fun day in the last hundred epochs! Not since a desperate poet came down here in search of his wife, who was taken by one of my Dukes. Do you remember his name, slave?”

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” Helmer bowed even deeper, “This despicable slave has no honor-”

The Prince waved him off and Helmer swallowed the rest of his sentence. This time, he restrained the cough, but it was clear that doing so had cost him dearly.

“Well, you amusing pile of flesh and blood, in tribute to your bravery or overwhelming stupidity, I’ll get down to business, but first!” The Prince raised his index finger, which was crowned with a claw, and inside which the Sword’s mysteries were much greater than the ones Hadjar had managed to comprehend over the course of his entire life. “Since we’re talking about philosophers and poets, I’ll tell you a story.”