Chapter 38

Demesne of Margrave Mammonin (Near the former Salamanca, Spain)

Saturday, June 15th, 2047

“I swear, we should have let those goblins have this lousy tract of land,” I griped. “It’s all dust and sun.”

“Look on the bright side, Captain Malthus.” Dewdrop the goblin freshened my drink without my asking. When we had stepped away from the bulk of the party, he’d swiped one of the bottles from the open bar. The butler was always good about anticipating my needs. Whatever Girdan pays him, it isn’t enough. “You wouldn’t have earned your promotion if they had. It’s a high honor, especially at your age.”

“True enough.” Refreshed my drink and stroked my ego. Shame they don’t live past thirty; it’s so hard to find good help. “You’re one of them, Dewdrop; what were they thinking?”

He cleared his throat. “Of course, I’m a loyal son of the Grim Horde, and cannot imagine the thought process of a revolutionary.” The bald, grey skinned demon began to sweat, and not just due to the summer heat.

“You know I’m not going to tattle on you,” I replied. “And we’re alone.”

“Some of them approached me when they realized I had access to Grand General Girdan, and tried to win me to their side,” he replied. “They got ahold of some old human books that put revolutionary ideas in their head. They seemed to think their creator had endowed them with, for lack of a better term, human rights.”

I nearly snorted some of my drink in laughter. That would have been painful, even as watery as this whiskey is. Some victory party! “As if the Enemy gives a kobold’s ass about goblins.”

“True enough, Captain Malthus,” he said. “We ought to put in an appearance in the main hall; Mammonin and Girdan will wonder where you are.”

“When I’m good and ready,” I said, taking a step down a random hallway. The petty noble had set himself up in the largest mansion the Horde had left intact. There were plenty of places to wander. “I don’t consider hanging out with old men a good time. Girdan’s a mean drunk, and Mammonin’s trying to earn himself a promotion. I nearly vomited listening to him toady.”

“Yes, I know your preferences, sir,” he said, sounding a tad wearier than I liked. “Speaking of, the local madame says she found you a blonde. Not the most common hair color for devils, but I negotiated the price down. She’ll be waiting for you in your room… once you go make nice with the officials.”

“Good man,” I said. Had I even had to ask him? I couldn’t quite recall; Dewdrop had been very good about keeping my glass full. Definitely not paid enough. Not that I was about to sacrifice any of my loot from the campaign, but it seemed like something Girdan ought to do.

Wait, that sounds an awful lot like concern for the four-fingered little snot. Remember, he isn’t you, so he does not matter. I shook my head. It’s hard to find good help; that’s why you want to keep him in something like good health.

“You seem deep in thought; is something troubling you, sir?”

I didn’t answer right away; he was the last demon I wanted to share those unworthy thoughts with. We stepped out of the hallway, entering a library. A thick coating of dust on the books showed that they were only trophies; the fireplace and couches showed the same lack of care. I studied the collection, finding most of them to be in Spanish, naturally. Completely useless. A pity; I was getting tired of rereading Pride and Prejudice.

“Mammonin’s got the design sense of a color-blind orc,” I said, running a finger along a freshly painted wall. “Red walls with green furniture? I hope he had whoever suggested that flogged.”

“Probably the only color available, sir,” suggested Dewdrop. “We didn’t leave many factories intact, after all.”

“Very fair of you, Dewdrop,” I said. “You should save the ass-kissing for Girdan and I.”

“As you say, sir.”

“Ah, finally!” I pulled a book off the shelf. “Something I can use! A biography of… Winston Churchill in English.” I wasn’t entirely sure who that was, but the name had an air to it. Either way, I wouldn’t have to read about Elizabeth and that Mr. Darcy chap again. Too much buildup, and then that Jane Austen hack didn’t even include any sex scenes!

“There’s hardly time to read it all, sir,” said Dewdrop with just a hint of reproach in his voice.

“Obviously not,” I said, handing him the tome. “Smuggle this out for me.”

He held it as though it were red hot. “Is it… wise to pilfer from the local lord’s personal collection?”

I blew a handful of dust in Dewdrop’s face, sending him into a coughing fit. “As if he’ll notice it’s gone. Books are meant to be read, not just to be a talisman to throw on the wall to show how cultured you are!”

“As you say, sir,” he said with resignation.

“Don’t worry about it; Mammonin owes us after we recaptured his province from those Four Finger revolutionaries.”

We passed from the library into an adjoining room, and I was surprised to find we weren’t alone. A lower-caste devil with skin the color of burnt umber lounged in a chair nearly the same shade. The plain, dusty clothes marked him as some sort of laborer or servant. He bore black, curly hair that seemed unused to a comb, which matched his slovenly pose. He also had a proud set of curled ram’s horns.

Not that I was jealous of that last detail, of course; the devilmaids assured me that my horn nubs were cute.

He didn’t notice me, but then, he seemed to be in a bored daze. I coughed into my hand, startling him out of his seat and into a heap on the floor.

“Hey, what gives? You human trash, I oughta…” His golden eyes caught sight of my uniform and freshly minted Captain’s bars. His eyes also went up, spotting my nubs. A cocky smirk crossed his lips.

“Do you see something that amuses you?” My cheeks burned, but I kept it out of my voice.

“O-of course not. Sorry, didn’t realize you were mixed.” He sprang to his feet and gave the traditional Horde salute: right hand over the heart, left over the eye. “I meant to say, good evening, Captain. Pleased to meet ya.”

I didn’t return the gesture; I didn’t owe him the honor. “What is your name?”

“Mulciber, sir,” he replied. He hadn’t stopped his salute; protocol was to wait for it to be returned or acknowledged, especially when dealing with a social better.

I counted to three in my head, enjoying how the devil squirmed. After months on campaign under Girdan the ‘Fair’s’ thumb, it was a pleasure to have somebody fear me.

“Captain Malthus,” I said, releasing him. “And I wasn’t expecting to find anybody here. Should I tell Mammonin you’re hiding here instead of helping with the party?”

He swallowed nervously. “I-I am working, sir, though I can see why you’d think I wasn’t.” He gestured at a wall opposite his sofa, and I noticed the painting for the first time. “Mammonin’s givin’ a celebratory gift to the Grand General, and I’m to make sure nothing happens to it.”

I peered at the diminutive canvas. “Melting clocks? This is art?”

Mulciber shrugged. “Couldn’t rightly tell you. It’s a human artifact, and you know how the nobles love hoarding those.”

“That I do.” I would only realize what I was looking at much later. I’m not sure how it The Persistence of Memory had come to southern Spain, but the nobledevils were constantly trading around those bits of human culture.

I glanced at Dewdrop to make sure he’d hidden the stolen biography. The paperback was simply a small bulge in his jacket pocket. Good man. “Well, as fascinating as looking at this old human junk is… actually, it isn’t the least bit fascinating. Do try to stay awake this time, hm?”

“Yes, of course.” He was right to be afraid; a less subtle nobledevil might have ruined his face with a Rough Spout for less.

That would be too obvious, though. No, I had a better scheme.

I clapped him on the shoulder. “You can relax a little. In fact, would you like to share a drink with me? Just to prove there are no hard feelings.” I gestured towards Dewdrop’s bottle.

“I-I couldn’t trouble you like that,” he stammered.

“I insist. Dewdrop, I think I saw a glass in the library?”

“Of course,” said Dewdrop.

Soon enough, the two of us were chatting idly on the couch. It seemed we didn’t have much in common, which was to be expected. I mostly had tales of battles, hunting, and carousing to share, and he had tales of, ugh, honest labor. I definitely carried the conversation, and he seemed especially interested in hearing about the recent rebellion.

“They kept us all in the dark,” said Mulciber. “I didn’t even know there was a problem before the Margrave evacuated the town.”

“I’m sure you had a rough time of it,” I said, gesturing for Dewdrop to freshen his fifth glass. Good to see the lower classes practice the virtue of gluttony, or else this wouldn’t have worked at all. “What’s the matter? You aren’t touching your drink.”

“Actually…” Mulciber stood, keeping his head bowed. He shifted uncomfortably. “Could I trouble you? I, er, I have bodily needs and…”

“You have to take a piss,” I snapped. “Don’t try to be flowery on my account. Gentledevils piss, too.”

He flinched from my rebuke. “R-right. Pretty badly. Would it trouble you to watch the painting while I, er…”

“Piss, yes,” I said, waving him off. “Be quick about it.”

“Much obliged, your lordship.” He saluted me again but didn’t hold it for a respectful period of time. He dashed through the library and down the hallway.

As soon as his footsteps trailed off, I splashed my drink on the aged oil painting. The dried colors lost their cohesion and began to dribble down the aged canvas.

“Captain Malthus!” said Dewdrop.

“He called me human trash. He had it coming.” And smirked at my horns. For good measure, I slit a long gash down the middle with my dagger.

“Sir, you just ruined Girdan’s gift!”

“Correction,” I said, relieving him of the whiskey bottle. “Mulciber just ruined Girdan’s gift.” I poured a few fingers into the emptied glass, chugged it, then threw my tumbler out the window. No sense wasting more than I have to. I placed Mucliber’s glass and the mostly-emptied bottle by the couch to complete the illusion.

My work done, I strode out the door the same way we’d come. “Come, Dewdrop. It’s time for us to put in an appearance.”

***************

Sunlight streamed through the windowed main hall, giving the devils and devilmaids of Mammonin’s court an open place to mingle and plot. He hadn’t spared any expense where guests could see. Even the windows, usually the first target of vandals, were in good shape. It was the mark of a lord with… well, the locals wouldn’t respect him, exactly. They feared him, though, which was just as effective.

There were devils of all walks of life there, including a few courtesans I’d have normally chatted up. However, I saw Girdan and the Margrave on the other side of the room. Besides, I already had a girl waiting for me.

“Malthus, about time you showed up,” snapped Girdan the Fair. He was dressed up in his Grand General’s uniform, starched and bleached within an inch of its life after campaign. He ran his hand through his well-coifed blond tresses. “What have you been up doing?”

I had to look up at him, and I pasted a smile on my face as I saluted them both. “I’m afraid I got a bit turned around,” I replied, nodding to Mammonin. “Our host owns a lovely home, but a bit daunting for my first time!”

“Understandable,” said Mammonin, a jovial chuckle shaking his jowls. His acknowledgement freed me from the bow sooner than Girdan seemed to appreciate. The elder devil clearly didn’t get out much, as he was nearly wide around as he was tall. “It is a lovely home, isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course, Margrave,” I replied. “Such delightful color sense, too. Is your interior decorator available?”

Mammonin tapped his curled horn, the other being broken off at the base. “I’m afraid it’s me, and I don’t have time for a trip to the capitol.”

Assuming you could even roll your way out of this mansion. “Such a pity. I imagine you have quite a bit to clean up, now that we’ve rid you of those rebels.”

“If you ever do find your way north, you would be more than welcome,” said Girdan, with a smirk. “They’ve set me up in the old palace at Versailles. There would be plenty of room for you.”

Mammonin frowned for a moment, deciding if Girdan meant that as a joke about his girth, or if he was rubbing the historic housing in his face. “It would be a delight.” The false smile returned, showing me the relative ranks for the two devils. He clapped twice, and a green-skinned orc in a dress coat strode over.

“Yes, my lord?” he slurred between his tusks.

“Now that Captain Malthus has graced us with his presence, we can finally have our gift-giving ceremony. Go fetch the you-know-what.” With a nod and a bow, the servant darted out of the room.

Girdan waved it off. “A gift? Oh, you needn’t have troubled yourself.”

“I insist,” replied Mammonin. “You grace my lowly province with your presence, and you have done so much for me.”

Yes, did so much whoring and drinking while the rest of us suffered on the front lines. By Our Father Below, I can’t wait until I’ve hit that stage of my career. I need another drink.

I snapped my fingers, and Dewdrop seemed to appear from the ether with another bottle and three tumblers. “May I propose a toast?” Keep your mouths busy for a moment. “To a smashing victory, and the return of order to the realms of our Dark Lord, may he rule until the stars go out!”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Mammonin. “Oh, Malthus, Girdan, come this way.” He shuffled along, setting a pace the two of us easily match. “I should show you Yatener’s toy. It’s a marvelous invention. It was expensive, too."

"Shouldn’t we wait here?” asked Girdan. “We are waiting for them to bring my gift, after all.” He had pretended to not care about the gift before, but he was still a devil; we aren’t known for impulse control or temperance.

“They’ll find us soon enough; that’s the one advantage of switching from goblins to orcs.” He mimed a set of running legs with his fingers. “They’re clumsier, but much faster.”

“Switching?” I asked.

Mammonin gestured at Dewdrop, who followed us at a respectful distance. “Besides your servant there, there isn’t a living goblin for twenty kilometers. I had to send a message to the rest.”

I nodded. “After they revolted against your enlightened rule, they had it coming.” It never occurred to me to be concerned for the apparent genocide; they were the lesser races, after all. Still, I whispered for Dewdrop not to leave my side until we were out of Mammonin’s Demesne. I simply didn’t want to break in another goblin.