Rudaheim.
"So, so! When are you taking me to Brother Silas, my lord?"
Fenrik demanded with squinted eyes, arms folded across his chest. One wouldn't be able to guess very well that he belonged to one of the revered Great Three Families if they saw him at this moment. Zerath tried his best to concentrate on his work, but the presence of two people in his office was enough of a distraction.
Still, Fenrik is an expected presence. Young lord Slavien? Not so much.
"A passing bird tells me you already met him, or at least tried to. The passing bird also said how Silas shut the door in your face."
Fenrik nodded. "That's why I want you to intervene, Brother Zerath."
From my lord to brother? He sure knows how to change his ways of address very conveniently.
Yet Zerath's hands were tied as Fenrik had stumbled onto a grave secret about him and Vivia. That smile on his lips was way too obvious.
Not for long though. I'm not the only demon with things to hide, he harrumphed.
He, in fact, was actively digging dirt on the young demon as well - which others would argue to be not so responsible and adult-like for a demon of his stature. But he didn't care.
"At least he shut the door in your face," Zerath said, "If I go, I'd probably be greeted with a spear lodged through my chest."
Fenrik waved his hand in dismissal. "He won't admit it, but he loves you a lot."
His brow twitched violently. "Please don't say that again, not in front of him, lest the spear would be lodged through your chest next time."
Slavien asked, tilting his head, "It seems like Sir Silas is a fine soldier. Why did he leave the army?"
Zerath glanced at him, maintaining a perfectly poker face outward despite his feelings for Slavien on the inside being crystal clear.
He didn't like him. He did feel empathetic towards his frail health and situation, but he didn't see the stream of donations upon donations to the Sanctum in a positive light. He understood that parents would go to any lengths to protect their child, however, this excess didn't sit well with him. Not when such a strong relationship with a Blessed family would inadvertently raise the Sanctum's status a little too high for the royal family's taste.
"It's a long story."
Zerath wondered why Slavein dropped a visit in the first place. His health didn't permit more rigorous kinds of jobs, so he often helped out his father with desk work. It wasn't as lofty as Balam's position, who was an Order. But Slavien's father was important in his own right in the Infrastructure department.
"I like stories," Slavien smiled lightly. "It keeps a sick man like me entertained."
"It's a long, unpleasant story."
"What can be more unpleasant than an impending death sentence you don't know will sneak upon you?"
There it was - Slavien's doomsday and unsettling way of conversation. Not that Zerath blamed him - for he didn't know how he would have become had he been in Slavien's place. Probably just like him. Or even worse.
Fortunately, a knock on the door saved him from recalling a story he wasn't too keen on recalling.
"Come in."
The other two turned to find Azarael entering, carrying a tray with a sizable bowl. A pleasant, delicious smell wafted across their nostrils.
Fenrik was already drooling. "That looks delicious!"
"Pardon my intrusion, my lord. Chef Andras has prepared something for you," she said.
He blinked. "The head chef did?"
"Yes, my lord. At this very moment, he's outside the door, listening to our conversation."
"Ugh!"
A muffled gasp was heard from outside and Zerath smiled. "Come in, Chef Andras. Hiding is not good."
It was after several long moments that the door opened, and Chef Andras stepped in, embarrassed. Mortified, he threw a look full of grievances at Azarael as if accusing her of breaking the deal. But in front of her ever genial smile, Andras lost his sense of reason and blushed slightly.
You promised you wouldn't rat me out to my lord…
"You cooked this for me? I didn't ask though."
The meat stew was a popular delicacy in the Demon Realm and one of Zerath's favorites.
"Yes, I cooked this stew for you at my own discretion. My lord seems particularly tired and distressed these days. I thought a good meal will lift your spirits."
His eyes widened.
Do I really look that tired?
Andras's guess held merit, though.
Zerath was exhausted, far more than he forced himself to believe. The Queen's order to halt the cave's investigation had put him in a tight spot. An important clue related to Eurus's mother was discovered in the depths of those caverns, and something far more sinister was exposed. He had wanted to investigate until he would reach the filth at its core, but Veloria's strict orders bound him like shackles.
Fortunately, Gressil and his troops who had accompanied Zerath to Nethermoor were not detected to be cursed or sick in any way as both - the Minister of Magic, Draconis and the Minister of Health, Doloros had confirmed. But it wasn't enough to dispel Veloria's discomfort after the unnatural event witnessed at the Sanctum. The order thus stood, only increasing Zerath's stress.
He left those thoughts aside for now, appreciating Andras's kind gesture.
"Thank you. I was indeed very hungry."
Azarael promptly set the tray on the desk and stepped back. "Please enjoy, my lord. Chef Andras has prepared it for you with all his heart."
"T-That…! As the head chef, this is just my j-job…" he stammered, unsure of how to respond to Azarael's compliments.
Zerath's gaze alternated between them, and a quiet smile settled on his lips.
When will this blockhead confess to her? It'd be too late if he kept waiting, he shook his head.
Fenrik already helped himself with a spoonful of the strew before Zerath could, earning him a sharp glare from Andras.
"So, so!" Fenrik slurped on the stew quite mannerlessly. "Did anyone hear the gossip floating around?"
"Gossip? About what?" Zerath asked.
"About that cave you and Brother Silas went to. People say that it's the entrance to the gates of Hell!"
The details of what was found in the cave was kept an absolute secret from the public, so Zerath knew the 'Hell gate' theory didn't hold much water. What he and Silas had pieced together was - that the abducted slaves were being forced to give birth to more slave children, who would be, in turn, raised to become soldiers for the war. This wasn't a proven theory yet, but it was the closest one they could reach with the little evidence they had.
"There's no Hell's gate over there," To everyone's surprise, it was Andras who said that.
Fenrik pouted. "It's such a thrilling story! Why do you want to ruin it? And how are you so certain anyway?"
Andras glowered at his attitude but directed his attention back at Zerath. "Ugh well…It's kind of a long story. Also not a very accurate one."
Slavien smiled. "How about we hear it then? Sadly, my lord wasn't in the mood to tell one."
Zerath absolutely did not want any theories of forced breeding coming out of Andras - the very truth they have been tightly keeping under wraps. He was stuck at a rock and hard place.
Dismissing him now would look even more suspicious…
He kept his pleasant smile intact. "Go ahead. I'd like to hear this story too."