• In the Great Forest of Faeon, a beautiful woman sat upon a gray mare that trotted through the sea of towering oaks. The horse’s hide was speckled with black, white, and brown spots as if they had be drops of paint flung unto a canvas. The woman riding the beast was of great appearance. Her hair was chin length and pure white, while her skin was fair and unblemished. She wore a long, flowing midnight gown which fell across the horse’s body. Onyx eyes gazed through the woods, checking to make sure no one was following her. This woman, although very beautiful, seemed rather ordinary. There was nothing that particularly stood out about her, but that was how she liked it.

    She had a secret; a secret that, if revealed, would cause her life to be in danger every second of every day. No one outside of the country of Eruos knew and they were forbidden on pain of death to reveal it to an outsider. This woman was Arabella DeBurois, daughter of Sir Proy and Lady Velleria DeBurois of Jaek. Her spectacular secret did not stem from her heritage, though. Its root was at the center of all Eruos, her homeland. For she was the rock on which it stood; she was the foundation of her people. Her full title was Lady Arabella DeBurois of Jaek, thirty-ninth Demon Lord of the Survivalist Age, ruler of all Eruos and its native people, the demon race.

    As the monarch of a whole country, she held immense power, but seldom used it unless greatly strained to do so. At that moment, she was disguised as a lowly messenger on her way to the capital of the Elvish kingdom known as Faeon. Her true purpose was secret, even to some of her most trusted advisers. She quickly passed through the surrounding woods, which brought calm and serene moods with its quietness, but, sadly, that peace was not to last long.

    Ara suddenly heard the rustle of feet in the leaves behind her. They were very faint, but she could hear them all the same. The sounds were made by the Elven scouts that patrolled the outer limits of the capital, Dolas. They kept out of her way, though they would still be watching the mysterious stranger who treaded into their territory. Not until the she was in a mile stretch from Dolas’s gate did the scouts reveal themselves. They appeared in the middle of the path, blocking any means of moving around them. There were only two, but they were of the appearance of people one would not want to offend.

    The male was muscular, but lean, and his rust colored hair was cut short. He had a curved scabbard attached to his belt which probably was home to a weapon of dwarf origin. The scout’s uniform was a mix of the forest’s natural colors. His companion, a female, was attired much the same only her defense was a bow already loaded and a quiver of arrows on her back. She had golden hair blowing around her angular face and a slight tinge of green to her skin. Each elf had the pointed ears that distinguished their race from any other.

    The female spoke first, her voice was soft, but had a harsh edge. “What is your business in Dolas, stranger?” she asked.

    “My business is my own, and I don’t go around telling it to annoying scouts who intrude in things that aren’t their own.”

    “Answer the question, human!” barked the brawny elf.

    Ara narrowed her eyes at the scouts and replied coldly, “Human? Now that’s just insulting. How is it that you can’t tell apart of a child of the great Ryloes from a miserable human?” The scouts warily glanced from one to another as Ara recalled the god that was worship by demons. Fear sprouted in their eyes, though it was faint.

    The female looked back at Ara, and said, “What demon with no goods to sell would come to Dolas? Don’t you have better things to do like destroying a village or getting in a fight with some pathetic human?”

    A smile lit the Demon Lord’s face momentarily. It was humorous to see that these elves were suspicious, as they should be. “As I said before, my business is my own. Though, if you insist on knowing, I’m here to deliver a message to your King from the ruler of Eruos,” she remarked.

    Shock found its way onto the scouts’ faces. “What possible reason would your leader want with ours?” inquired the reddish haired male.

    “I grow bored of answering these questions, so either let me pass or you can try your luck with me in a fight. It’s your choice.”

    The man started to pull his blade from its scabbard, but the female’s hand flew to stop him. She whispered curtly to him, saying, “No, Siric! Your chances of beating that creature are very slim.”

    “Well, then, what do you suggest we do, Calia? Let it get into the city and cause havoc? I’m not going to let that happen.”

    She responded quietly, “No, I say that we let it pass and keep an eye on it. Better to let it through and have it watched.” The two stared at each other fiercely until Siric broke the gaze and took his hand off his sword. They turned their attention back to Ara.

    “You may pass, but know this, demon. Your time in our city will not go unnoticed. I suggest that you watch your step,” Siric told her coldly.

    She said nothing in return, just nodded her head as recognition. Her horse started off again and soon the encounter with the elves was left behind the Demon Lord. She urged her horse into a gallop, and soon she could see the gates of the capital of Faeon rising up out of the earth.

    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    The great granite gates of Dolas towered over everything, with the exception of palace which was stood proudly in the center of the city. The gate was guarded by twenty men, armed with an assortment of weapons. Ara’s way was not barred, but Calia and Siric had apparently already sent word of her arrival. Most gave her wary looks, while some of them shook where they stood. It seemed that no matter how many demons walked through Dolas’s walls, the elves would never fully be alright with her people.

    Of course, it didn’t help that she had created a war between the humans and demons, and the elves suspected that they might be next in line for attack. Still, she did not regret what happened to cause the war. Ara had very few regrets, it seemed like they took all the fun out of life. Besides, the demons would win this war, one way or another. They just had to.

    The speckled horse trotted along into the city, passing various merchants selling their wares. Every nationality, from dwarves to faeries, littered the shops, browsing, buying, and haggling with high prices. Some tension emanated between the humans and the demons, but they kept it civil. Though, if a fight did break out, the guards posted around the market would escort the trouble makers directly out of the city, leaving them to continue their brawl in the forest. The elves wanted no part in the war, but Ara was there to change that.

    Passing into the palace area, she noticed how every move she made caught the eye of at least one guard. Their nerves grew more alert with every step her horse took forward into the castle grounds.

    Sparkles bounced back to her as the sun reflected off the smooth white marble walls and colorful stain-glass windows of the Elven castle. The exquisite windows portrayed significant events in Elven history. One showed the coronation of their first king, his head gracefully being bestowed with a crown by their goddess Xinther, while another showed the triumph of King Pezzar III in the battle of Mivis. The detail of the pictures was breath taking, but Ara had more important things to worry about than mere glass.

    Stopping at the beginning of the vast moat, the beautiful woman called up to the guard posted in the tower above.

    “Excuse me, sir, lower the bridge!”

    The man stared down at her, analyzing her thoroughly. His polished helmet and chain mail shone brightly in the sunlight, making Ara squint to maintain a visual.

    “Who are you and what purpose do you have for wanting entrance, miss?” he questioned with a bored tone as if he had been asking his question all day.

    “I am Arabella DeBurois of Jaek and I am here to deliver a message to your king.”

    Sounding slightly more interested, the guard asked, “A message from whom?”

    “The lord of all Eruos,” she replied plainly. Like the scouts before him, the guard was quite surprised by her answer.

    “Oh, uh, yes, I remember some message talking about you,” his words were slightly muffled because he no longer would look directly at her, but was looking straight at his feet, trying to avoid her gaze. The nervous elf left her view for a moment, and, as the bridge lowered, he came back.

    She trotted through the courtyard, where she found a gruff guard waiting to escort her. They twisted and turned inside the castle, it being one giant maze. Eventually, after going up what felt like ten levels, they arrived at the throne room. The giant oak doors that lead into the great hall were wide open, revealing all the noble elves that were visiting court. And there were quite a few.

    Upon the dark wood thrones in the back of the hall sat the king and his queen. King Kulva with his neatly trimmed beard, short black hair flecked with gray, and majestic attire he looked as regal as the kings of old. His wife, Queen Maple, was as beautiful as those lucky enough to have met her described. Falling down her back, her majesty’s auburn locks seemed to be rich, autumn leaves. Her sun-kissed face had a certain kind glow about it, like a mother’s. Which she was. Ara saw, sitting right next to her mother, a bored adolescent elf, her attitude resonating the resistance she felt for being forced to be there.

    Littered around the court, lords and ladies chatted rather loudly with one another, flitting about spreading the latest news. The volume drastically decreased as Ara’s escort cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s interest along with their attention.

    “Your Majesties.” The solider bowed deeply to the three members of royalty. "This is Lady Arabella DeBurois of Jaek. She is here with a message.” The solider faded into the crowd as Ara stepped into the center of the room, all eyes focused on her.

    Curtsying, Ara said, “It is an honor to be in your court, Your Majesties. To the great King Kulva, and his fair wife and daughter, the Demon Lord sends his greetings.”

    “Flattery is all well and good, but if you have a message, then let us hear it,” the King requested. Much like his daughter, the king seemed rather bored to just be sitting around.

    “My apologizes, Majesties, but I am not allowed to reveal it here. The message is a private one for you and your queen alone.” The murmurs started barely after the words had left her mouth. The air grew stiff with suspicion, many of the nobles not daring to move. Though one brave, or rather arrogant, elf did.

    “What are you insinuating?” A man stepped out of the crowd, incredulously staring at Ara. “Are you saying that we aren’t trustworthy? If anything, we should not trust you.”

    “As I already stated, the message is only for the King and Queen. Those are my orders. And I will not be provoked by such an obnoxious noble who doesn’t know what is and isn’t his business.”

    “Watch your tongue, demon!” He spat viciously.

    “I will when you watch yours.” Ara glared at the foolish elf, hatred burning fiercely in her eyes. She was quick to anger, but that was not anything new. She’d let her emotions get the better of her far too many times.

    “Enough of this foolishness!” King Kulva pronounced, rising to his feet to mediate. “I will not have unnecessary arguments disrupt the peace of my court. Rorand,” he turned to address the hasty elf lord. “You disgrace yourself and your people with this behavior.” The elf tried to defend his case, but his king’s icy look silenced all attempts.

    “As for you, Lady Arabella, I suggest we convene in a separate chamber. If you will follow me.” He held his arm out to his wife, her small body rising to join him. His daughter also began to follow, but he refused, and she sank back down into a disgruntled fit.

    King Kulva led them to a meeting room off to the side of his court. It was small, a single table as long as Kulva was tall and a few chairs surrounding it, but well suited for Ara’s message. Except for the guards posted inside the room.

    “I’m afraid these soldiers will have to be removed, Your Majesty. What I have to say is truly meant only for your ears, not even your trusty guards.”

    “Preposterous. They leave and every member of my court will be convinced that you have been sent here to kill us. No, I will not allow it,” he replied in a huff.

    “I give my word and swear on my lord and creator, the mighty Ryloes, that you will leave this chamber completely unscathed.” His Majesty seemed unconvinced, but a gentle touch from his wife seemed to soften his view. He sent the guards away, but told them to readily stand outside the door if their help should be required.

    “Thank you for your corporation. I am eternally grateful.”

    “As I said before, stop with the flattery and deliver your message. You’ve already caused such a commotion in my home that I have half a mind to just send you away.”

    “What I have to say is well worth the trouble I have unintentionally caused. What I am about to reveal to you is not to ever leave this room.” Ara paused. She drew a deep breath and continued. “I am the Demon Lord.”

    What seemed like an eternity filled the time after Ara had made her dramatic declaration, King Kulva just laughed. “I don’t see what is comical about my statement, Your Majesty,” Ara said, irritated by his insulting attitude. Kulva continued to roar with fits of laughter.

    Finally, he was able to put a decent sentence together. “You… you are a very funny woman, Lady Arabella. But enough jest, relay the message that you have, or is this all just some practical joke.”

    “I am who I say I am, Majesty. This is not a matter on which you joke about lightly.”

    “Stop this foolishness, or leave!” The king yelled, losing patience. “I have no time for things of this sort.”

    “I am not lying! I speak the honest truth.” She sighed, reaching into the pouch at her waist. Ara figured he would not believe her so easily, and she had prepared for it. “My words are true, Kulva. Maybe this will be enough to silence your doubt.” Unclenching her hand, she slid the item she had held across the table. King Kulva’s eyes grew wide with shock as he examined the item.

    It was an iron ring, a blood ruby embedded in the center. It was large, twice the size of Ara’s finger. The crest of the Eruos was branded into the stone. The crest had been created ever since the time of the first Demon Lord, millennia before Ara had been born. It was one of the six Council of Rulers rings, given only to the monarch of each country. But Kulva’s stubbornness resided still.

    “Obviously this is a fake. There is no possible way this could be the original.”

    “That is unless I am the Demon Lord as I have already stated.”

    “Dear…” Queen Maple lightly placed her hand on her husband’s arm. “Maybe she tells the truth.”

    “No!” He roared, brushing her arm away. “I will not accept such nonsense! This girl has no actual proof.” He threw the ring back at Ara. She caught it gracefully, twirling it around her finger.

    “If more proof is what you want, then I will give you proof that you cannot refuse.” Ara inhaled lightly, closing her eyes. She let the magic in her eyes melt away, allowing what really was there to show. She lifted her eyes to meet Kulva’s, though he couldn’t keep the gaze long.

    Her eyes were no longer black coals, cold and hard, but they had burned into a fire of blood, deep and raw. These were the eyes of the Demon Lord. These were the Eyes of Ryloes.

    “Do you believe me now, Your Majesty?” Ara reapplied the illusionary magic, her eyes dimming back into unburned coals. “You must know that those who try to recreate the Eyes of Ryloes are cursed. Doomed to die the moment their illegal spell is cast. And obviously I am not dead.”

    “Sweet Xinther,” Kulva whispered, lowering himself down into a chair, his head in his hands. “How can you be him? I’ve met the Demon Lord, and you most certainly are not him.”

    “The man you met was my predecessor, my uncle to be precise,” Ara said, taking a seat herself. “He spoke quite fondly of you, said that your wisdom was superior to most.” What he didn’t mention was your stubbornness, she noted.

    “But why all the secrecy?” Queen Maple asked. “Surely it would have been easier to just live out of the shadows.”

    “Actually, my life is simplified due to my secret identity. I can go wherever I like without being noticed, which, believe you me, is a great blessing. No one bothers me; they believe me to be a simple traveler and of no use to stop and question. You’d be surprised to know how nice it is to be invisible.”

    “I just don’t understand how we could not have known about this,” Kulva said. “It is a violation of the Treaty of Kings to crown a new monarch without notifying the Council. You were supposed to call a meeting and present yourself to the rest of us.”

    “Oh, that’s just a formality. It’s not as if you could have stopped my coronation. Besides, we’ve been crowning Demon Lords for centuries without the Council’s knowledge.”

    "B…bu…but that is illegal! The penalty for such an act is—”

    “Stripping of all title and lifetime banishment to Prodesa. Yes, yes, I know. But the Treaty of Kings is just an out of date document that barely clings to life because of those who feel they would be lost if time happened to actually progress.”

    “Excuse me, but my great grandfather was one of the creators of this ‘out of date document’ you speak of,” Queen Maple said indignantly.

    “I am well aware of that, Your Majesty,” Ara said. “And that is my point. The Treaty is thousands of years old. It seems that you elves live so long that you forget that time passes oh-so-quickly.”

    “You’re one to talk,” Kulva spat. “Your people live just as long as ours do.”

    “True, but our leaders retire after a sufficient amount of time. How long did your father rein, Queen Maple?”

    “Around eight hundred and fifty years, I believe.”

    “Where as a Demon Lord is bound by law to retire after he reaches a reigning period of two hundred years, if he manages to live that long. We are notorious for dying in battle. My people have excelled far more than yours in terms of progression. You remain in the past, holding on to ridiculous traditions as if the world would end if you did not.”

    “I will not tolerate such slander of my people in my own presence!” Kulva jumped to his feet, his chest puffed up in furious fervor.

    “I apologize, Your Majesty. My intent was not to insult you. We have side tracked from my original purpose.” She took a seat around the meeting table, and gestured for the elves to do the same. Maple gracefully agreed, while her husband grumbled darkly as he sat next to her. “Thank you. Now, my proposition may seem ridiculous at first, but I ask that you allow me to explain before you object.”

    “Of course, my dear.” Maple graciously consented, nudging her husband silent. “Speak freely. We oblige to your request.”

    Ara nodded in response. “As you know, my people have been in a war with the humans for the past twenty-two years. Neither side has progressed much, but King Dalic of Suleta and I have both refused to surrender. This has put us in a difficult situation. My forces are weakening; I do not have enough troops to win this war. And since I will not have my people slaughtered, for that is what Dalic will do if he wins, I am here to ask for your help.

    “King Kulva, Queen Maple, I, Arabella DeBurois of Jaek as the thirty-ninth Lord of Demons of the Survivalist Age, ruler of all Eruos, possessor of the Eyes of Ryloes, and speaker of that great and mighty god himself, ask—no, I beg that you will join in an alliance with my people. I do this for them, for it is my duty to protect them. In return, I grant unto your people a treaty of peace to last for a hundred years, to where no ill will will befall your people at the hand of mine. And in any need you have, we will willingly do all we can. This is what I offer in exchange for your support and troops.”

    Both elves were stunned. They did not respond for quite some time. But at last Kulva spoke. “Are you sincere with this request?”

    “With all my hearts, yes! This is what could finally end this war, once and for all. I do not want my people to suffer anymore than they already have. My mistakes have cost them dearly, but I will not apologize for them. But I will do everything in my power to correct them, for their sakes.”

    “This is an enormous decision, I hope you realize.”

    “Absolutely. I do not expect an answer now.” Ara rose from her seat, respectfully curtsying. “In one month, though, I will be in Naij. Send a messenger with your answer to the Eagle Fortress Inn and tell them to be on the look out for me. I would appreciate it if you would keep to my cover as a servant of the Demon Lord. I’d rather not reveal myself just yet.” She curtsied once more and was seen out of the room, her hosts amazed by her shear gall.

    Escorted by a guard out of the city gruffly, she let out a large sigh as she passed out the gates. That had gone rather well in her opinion, but she wasn’t ready to start drawing up battalion plans just yet. The elves would lose their standing with Suleta if they accepted her deal, but the reward would be hard to pass up. She smirked at the thought of being able to crush Dalic after all of these years. The idea was sickly sweet. Praying to Ryloes silently for safe passage, Ara urged her horse into a gallop, eager to get home and relish in the possibility of triumph.