Out of all the demons and devils in the underworld, Migaal had never been one to be feared. There were those of his race capable of destroying armies, corrupting the minds of any creature, controlling nature at their whim. On the other hand, Migaal had been gifted with a mind for all things presentation, he could not make a king conquer nations but he could make said king look like someone who did. The creatures of the underworld were always aware that one day they could be summoned to the side of a master. Typically powerful sorcerers, kings, and cultists had the ability and knowledge to summon one of the denizens of the demonic realms, although the odd farm boy or two spilling pigs blood in an odd pattern had summoned creatures with varying levels of success. Most demons wished to be summoned by Dark Lord, and conquer lands far and wide by their side, for some of Migaal’s colleagues such as the demon of Wrath Iraln it was a much easier task than for a demon such as Migaal. The demon of style was aware that all he could do was offering a supportive role to his master, he could not level armies with a wave of his hand or erect great castles with a thought. However, he could do one thing no other demon was able to do, make his master look like someone capable of doing all of that and more, all one needed to was the right presentation seem threatening and important.

The ferret lay on the top of his master’s stone throne deep within the dungeon. It was the highest vantage point one could have in the room apart from riding on the shoulders of one of the two war-formed stenjin that always guarded Zalrodal. Migaal had been recalling his days before being summoned to this world, it was a rather boring life but at least nothing was stopping his powers of illusion to take their full effect. He never thought he would be summoned to a plane so devoid of magic in its atmosphere but alas at least his power resided more in knowledge than in magic and with the additional resources they were gathering he could soon use this knowledge to a much higher effect. Not only would his master look the part of a Dark Lord but all the minions under him would look equally as imposing. Some armours, weapons, uniforms, redesigning of building, all played an important part in how the Dark Lord would be perceived. He didn’t want a foreign ruler to attack the dungeon and their first impression being a half run-down castle with walls that stood not thanks to great engineering but rather the improvisation of goblins.

While Zalrodal made his plans to acquire the last bit of resources before starting an actual attack on the Arberonian there was one thing that Migaal knew he could do to increase their chances of victory. More minions kept on arriving at Lord’s Rest with every passing week, goblins, dire wolves, imps, and other creatures of similar calibre. However, if more powerful creatures appeared such as the stenjin it would do no good for their master to be unable to combat them, Zalrodal had been struggling to fight two or three Arberonian knights and that with Migaal’s help, which was inexcusable in the ferret’s eyes. Nobody would respect their leader given the circumstances. It all had to do with his master turning him into a dagger, why a dagger? He had heard that Zalrodal had used an axe before, and longer goblin blades, so why did he will Migaal into a dagger. The first couple of times the demon’s powers were not great enough to turn into anything greater but now he could at least turn into something more threatening. A future world ruler did not threaten armies with a dagger no matter how sharp it was.

Migaal stretched himself on the top of the throne and looked down at his master, a full head of black hair tumbled down the sides of his face nearly touching his shoulders. He would need a haircut as well, the ferret thought. There was only work around this man. At least the clothes still fit well, although their cleaning did not seem to have been a priority. With a deft jump, the ferret landed on the throne's armrest. He turned towards his master. “I know I’ve never asked but are you sure a dagger is really your style, it’s not the regal of weapons I must say.”

“Why are you asking?” Zalrodal turned to the ferret, “It’s not like you can be anything else than a dagger, you transform into it for some reason.”

“Well that was only because I was new to this world, by now I could transform into nearly anything of your choice, in fact, the more you start looking like a proper Dark Lord the stronger I should become, being a demon of presentation and all.”

“Is that so?” Zalrodal smirked and stood up from his throne, standing between the two mountain-like warriors. He extended his arm and waited for Migaal to jump on his outstretched hand and leap into the air, the ferret’s body turned into a black sword in the air and was immediately snatched up by the Dark Lord. The sword was surprisingly light in his hands. The blade was much thicker and longer than a usual sword yet the blade was thinner and sharper than any he had ever seen. Zalrodal steeped into the middle of the throne room and swung the blade around, the blade whistling as he attacked his imaginary targets. Surprisingly enough as he attacked the opponents in his mind the blade seemed to adjust to the opponent, even extending mid-swing at times to reach its target. Zalrodal flourished the black sword and placed the blade against his shoulder allowing for Migaal to transform back into his ferret form on his shoulder.

“This makes the dagger look like a butter knife, those Arberonian won’t know what hit them.”