-The Prince of Evil cast his dark shadow on the world.-

Prince Astaroth stretched his lips back in a gleeful smile. His small frame swayed in time with the steps of the savages beneath him. A mutilated carriage rested on their shoulders, with its wheels and walls removed, and their Devil prince sat comfortably inside with his legs crossed. He fished a small black coin out of his pocket, and bit it between his fangs, where it crumbled into tiny motes of light for him to swallow.

Not too far away, down on the ground, the female knight captain from the previous battle was bound by ropes. Her gleaming armor was taken from her, and her tan skin was beaten and bruised. She was a prisoner of war; one of the few who survived without escaping, being dragged along at the mercy of a physically superior beast.

When she noticed Astaroth smiling down at her, she returned a cold glare his way.

“Prince Astaroth,” a monster called. It was the bipedal lizard who was so vocal upon their first meeting, who now walked alongside Astaroth’s makeshift palanquin. Astaroth had found him to be adequately intelligent to serve as a temporary assistant.

“You may speak, Rahashik.”

“Our scouts have detected a human settlement two miles north of us. Shall we pillage it?”

On the other side of the palanquin, Cyril whined in protest and struggled against her bonds.

“Absolutely,” Astaroth grinned. “All forces, hold here and make camp. Rahashik, learn from the scouts and our prisoners what sort of defenses and affiliations this settlement has. If the situation is agreeable, we’ll send them a declaration of war.”

Both the monster and the knight looked confused now.

“My prince, if we warned them of our coming, won’t they flee? Or mount a stronger defense?”

Unconcerned, the Devil Prince leaned back on his arm and fished another black coin out of his pocket, admiring the tormented human face engraved on the side. “If they flee, their land becomes ours. If they raise their shields, we will break them down.”

“All the same, my prince, a surprise attack would be easier.”

The face on the black steel coin warped in further anguish as Astaroth’s grasp suddenly tightened.

“Hold your tongue, Rahashik,” his red eyes narrowed. “A devil who ignores rules is no better than a demon. Anyway, there’s no need to make things easier when our opponents are mere humans.”

The Devil Prince put the coin away and glanced down at the pale, partially translucent palm of his hand. He more or less understood how he had come to this distant place and returned to the extremes of his youth. Logically, that foolish Angel—or, Seraphim, rather—had been cursed by a demon without realizing it. When she cast Martyr of Heaven, the curse had affected Astaroth as well.

He was confident that even an infant Devil Prince could wreak havoc here, but would he be able to grow out of his larval stage with this curse on him? And was there anyone in such a backwater place who could remove it?

The beasts made camp, and Astaroth watched them casually from atop his palanquin. Food was brought to him in the form of charred yet raw human flesh: remains from the earlier battle.

“Please eat, prince,” Rahashik said, lowering his serpentine head cordially as he offered the meat.

“The vile foodstuffs of lowborn beasts,” Astaroth sneered, waving his hand lazily. “I do not need it. Share it among your fellows to maintain their meager strength.”

Rahashik licked his lips with a thin tongue and didn’t hesitate to drop the great chunk of flesh down his own gullet. He swallowed without chewing and spoke again. “Is there something else you’d like to eat, my prince?”

The Devil showed a cruel smile. “I ate well earlier today, and I expect to eat well again tomorrow.”

Ignorant as he was, the lizardfolk responded with a flat expression. “Prince, we can’t find food for you without knowing what a Devil eats.”

Astaroth glanced down at the captive knight, still bound beside his palanquin, unable to join in the feasting. He relished the abject horror on her ugly human face as he replied, “Souls. We eat souls. That’s why, take good care of our war prisoners, Rahashik. If we run out of enemies and I grow hungry, the weakest and least obedient among you beasts will be my next meal.”

The lizardfolk bared his teeth anxiously and went off to do the investigation work that had been assigned to him. Astaroth chuckled and leaned down from his palanquin, using his small but sharp claws to pull down the cloth gagging the female knight. He intentionally scratched her face in the process.

Her first act once her mouth was free, quick as a viscous dog, was to snap at his fingers. She managed to draw blood, though the taste of the unholy black ichor made her release her jaws and gag.

Astaroth stared numbly at his small wound and spoke calmly to the Minotaur in charge of dragging the female knight around.

“Cut off her right forefinger,” he said.

Easily, the Minotaur jerked the female knight around, took hold of the doomed digit, and snapped it off with pure physical force. She screamed at full volume with no gag in the way.

“Tell me about the settlement ahead of us,” Astaroth stated. “What do you know about it?”

Still sweating heavily and fighting off the horrible pain of a minor dismemberment, the human glared.

“It’s just a small, remote settlement. But it’s still protected by the Waren Republic.”

“Is that the name of your force or another?”

“Ours,” the knight spat. She scowled in rage when Astaroth smirked at her.

Rahashik came trotting back then.

“My Prince, the scouts say that the settlement is weak and undefended, and there’s plenty of food to pillage.”

“Is that so?” Astaroth smiled, dragging the female knight’s gag back into place. “I’ve just learned their affiliation. Now, Rahashik, fetch me parchment and some ink. Make it out of our prisoners if we have none.”

Rahashik scratched his scaly temple and shrugged. “We’ll skin one of them and hang it out to dry, I suppose. Can we eat the leftovers, my prince?”

“They’re more useful alive, but if it dies, you may eat it.”

Several hours later, once the fresh parchment had mostly dried, Astaroth scratched bloody letters with a quill made from human bones. The instruments performed horribly—crudely as they were made, and from such sub-par materials—but they did very much tickle his devilish delight.

The early morning was dark, especially away from their raging campfire, but a Devil could see in pitch blackness as if it was a cloudy day.

He had been communicating with the creatures here in Common until now, so he wrote his declaration of war in Common. The contents were all quite standard. It was an announcement, not an agreement, and so there wasn’t much exploitable content. At the bottom, he printed his name neatly in Common and left his signature in Infernal. The date was also very clearly displayed beside both signings.

Astaroth smiled at his handiwork, kicked Rahashik to wake him up, and ordered him to fetch a horse. They had captured several from the knights, and Astaroth had ensured they weren’t all eaten.

Next, he woke the female knight by lifting her by her hair.

“I never did ask your name, human. I’ll allow you to tell it to me.” He pulled off the gag wrapped around her head.

Tired and in pain, her finger stump red and rather swollen after going without treatment, she gritted her teeth.

“My name is Cerilla,” she lied.

But Astaroth didn’t care enough to notice her deception. He nodded and waved over Rahashik who had brought a horse. “Our declaration of war is written. I need someone to deliver it to your leaders. You must know the way.”

He waved it in front of “Cerilla”: that disgusting notice made from human flesh and blood. She squinted her eyes shut, exhaled deeply, and glanced at her surviving comrades. They were all sleeping heavily after a very hard day.

“I’ll do it,” she nodded.

Astaroth smiled and ordered her bonds to be removed. Then she was given the letter and horse. She trotted out of the monster camp and then broke into a hard gallop toward the South.

“Was it necessary to do this so early in the morning?” the lizardfolk complained.

Astaroth simply chuckled. “Not really. Now, go and wake everyone else up. We’re attacking the settlement.”

Rahashik tilted his serpentine neck. “Before the enemy has received our declaration of war?”

“I’m only obligated to send a declaration of war before attacking,” the Devil Prince laughed. “It’s been signed, dated, and sent. It’s not my problem if their messenger is slow to deliver it. Likewise, it isn’t my problem if the enemy’s government delays spreading the news to its surrounding settlements.” Seeing the light of understanding—and what might have perhaps been a hint of approval—in Rahashik’s eyes, Astaroth smiled again. “Now, wake everyone up. We attack at dawn.”