-Buy and sell them. Let them pay their debts in blood and labour.-

Not all of the priests in Limure were dead. Although many had died during the city’s invasion, there were still several left. Some among them could call upon the power of the Angels, even now, but they abstained.

The Devil’s attack had concluded without either side completely exhausting itself due to the city lord’s surrender. One had to understand: once the lord of the city sided with the enemy, all of the surviving citizens inside the walls became hostages. The surviving priests couldn’t allow themselves to get innocents killed, nor could they escape the city with so many people to protect.

After the Devil’s sadistically long speech, the remaining three priests found their twenty seven apprentices asleep in their beds beneath the church. They hurried around quietly for a while and then gathered in the mess hall. This secret meeting was lit by lantern light on an unseasonably cold night.

“He mocked the Angels, that insufferable heathen,” one haughty young man, Priest Caleb, grumbled.

“We’re all very tired, so let’s try to keep this short,” sighed an older man with red hair, Priest Dustin. “Have we counted everything up?”

“Checked and double-checked,” said Olivia, a female priest.

Priest Dustin sighed and lowered his head. “Okay, good. We should expect some trouble anyway. If I were that Devil, I wouldn’t want to leave possible problems like us alone. Simultaneous attacks from inside and outside the wall… there’s no way he would put himself at the mercy of his own strategy.”

Priestess Olivia nodded her head in agreement. “I did think it was strange that a Devil’s laws would permit worshipping Angels. It feels like a trap, somehow.”

Aside from these three priests who were discussing things, the rest were apprentices who could barely cast a single spell. And yet, those weak apprentices were the most relaxed of them all, having great faith in their superiors to the extent that they were comfortably snoozing right now.

Priest Dustin smiled lopsidedly while thinking about it. Bishop L’oral was killed by that monster. I don’t know why they think we could fight him off.

A sudden heavy knock came from the front of the building, and the three senior priests nervously exited the mess hall in the back. Priestess Olivia had in her hands a heavy-looking pouch. The three of them nodded to each other before Priest Dustin opened the church’s heavy wooden doors.

“Good evening, Lord Astaroth,” he said, heart sinking.

Standing on the steps was a creature with the stature of a twelve-year-old boy but the soul of a monster. Only the finer details of his appearance implied his inhuman origins. Behind him were four Trolls, kneeling on the pavement while supporting an ominous palanquin on their backs. Presumably, they could be ordered to attack at any time. Also in attendance was a court official the priests had seen meeting with Bishop L’oral on occasion. If they remembered rightly, he worked with the city’s finances. The pale and sweaty condition of his face did not inspire confidence in the priests.

Dustin swallowed and forced the next words out of his mouth, “What brings you here so late at night?”

“Good evening to you as well,” the Devil smiled faintly. “I’ve come to collect the taxes for your little institution. Hostile religions are not tax-exempt, as you must be aware, under chapter thirteen of the Devil’s Law. Mr. Hanson?”

The civil official standing a step behind the Devil cleared his throat and held up a hastily-bound book, titled Chapter 13.

“Chapter 13, section 7, article 1: the worship of Angels constitutes a religion hostile to Devil rule, and thus incurs a yearly tax to the state in accordance with chapter 13, section 2. Chapter 13, section 7, article 4: organized worship institutions owe a tax for each regular member capable of performing clerical magic, consisting of [ten gold coins] per soul. Article 5, organized worship institutions owe property taxes equal to one one-hundredth of the property’s value. Article 6, organized worship institutions built on the ground owe a land tax equal to the standard land tax value in the area. Article 10, organized worship institutions owe a tax for each artifact containing holy power, equal to [ten gold coins] per soul unit equivalent.” The court official exhaled and lowered the book.

“There you have it,” Astaroth tipped his chin up. “Now then, do you have the money prepared?”

The two male priests stepped aside so Priestess Olivia could offer the pouch of gold she was carrying.

“Here it is, Lord Astaroth.”

“Let’s check it, shall we?” The Devil grinned and began counting coins out of the large pouch. “Ten gold each for thirty priests capable of casting clerical magic, for a total of 300 gold coins,” he nodded and set them aside.

It wasn’t surprising at all that he knew exactly how many priests they had left, even if most were only apprentices. It did make a small shiver go up Priest Dustin’s back, though.

“Fifty gold coins for the land tax; the standard for the acreage you use in the center of town.” Again, he set the coins aside. “I can sense you have no holy artifacts here, so that’s zero coins.”

Quickly tallying up the remaining gold, he arrived at what they had paid for their property value. “Hm, 700 gold for your property tax? You mean to say this church is only worth 70,000 gold?”

Priestess Olivia nodded. “Correct. We can show you the bill of sale for when we purchased this building, if you’d like.”

“No need,” Astaroth waved a hand. He spoke over his shoulder while keeping steady eye contact with her. “Mr. Hanson, would you please read Chapter 8, section 1, article 2 of the Devil’s Law aloud?”

Priest Dustin noticed that the Mr. Hanson was carrying a satchel with two more stacks of paper in it, and Chapter 8 of the Devil’s Law was one of them. He was struck by the eerie feeling of a net being cast around him.

“Chapter 8, section 1, article 2,” Hanson cleared his throat. “All estimations of property value are based on their current value, not the value at which they were originally sold.”

Astaroth smiled, “And according to articles 13 and 26 of that same section, artworks, attached to or painted directly on a structure, as well as precious materials affixed for decoration, add their own value to the value of the property.”

The Devil brushed past the three priests and stood facing one of the many opulent artworks adorning the walls. He tapped at an embedded ruby with the claw of his index finger. “A single ruby of this size is worth 500 gold already. Just tallying up the raw worth of the jewels and ignoring their value as art, all of this easily adds 170,000 to the property value, or 1,700 gold coins in taxes owed.

All three priests’ eyes widened. They had paid over a thousand gold in taxes already, and now they were told to pay that same amount almost twice over? Their church only had around 2,500 gold in liquid assets!

Priest Dustin, in particular, was horrified. Had this Devil come to trap them knowing exactly how much they could afford? Given that he was accompanied by a financier acquainted with the late Bishop L’oral, it was possible. And if that really was the case, then his goal would be to put them in debt…

All three priests recalled that debtors under the Devil’s Law were obligated to sell their souls if their finances were insufficient. Not a one of them was sure what would happen to them if they sold their souls to a Devil. Perhaps they would die or be forced to do his bidding. Regardless, it would be sacrilege.

Instead of being afraid, though, Priest Caleb was furious.

“You can’t do this!” the youngest senior priest shouted. “Doubling our taxes all of a sudden—that’s wrong!”

“On the contrary,” Astaroth shook his head, “I’m legally obligated to do this. And it’s your own fault for not calculating your taxes correctly in the first place.”

Priest Caleb gritted his teeth and then showed a nasty grin. “Well those jewels are fake anyway!”

Dustin and Olivia winced at Caleb’s obvious lie. The frightful concept of “tax evasion” loomed over their heads, and they wanted to speak up, but there was no place for them to intercede.

“Fake, are they? Then how much are these artworks worth, would you say?”

“These?” Priest Caleb sneered. “They’re just some scribbles made with love and fake jewels. Couldn’t be worth more than fifty gold coins.”

A heated silence draped over the room. Priest Caleb breathed heavily from a combination of indignation and a premature sense of victory, while the other two sweated in cold silence.

“… Fifty gold, is it? Well, I’m not an unreasonable man. If you’re fine with that, then let’s conclude this by adding five silver in property taxes for the artistic improvements. Please make note of that, Mr. Hanson.”

While the increasingly sweaty civil official jotted down some notes with a shaking hand, the three priests mentally sighed in relief. The two more mature priests thought it was suspicious that they were shown leniency, but they wouldn’t argue against what benefited them.

“Now that that’s done,” Astaroth smiled ominously, “while looking over financial records in the castle, I came upon evidence of embezzlement by this church. A total value of 6,400 gold. Mr. Hanson?”

With trembling hands, the civil official fished out the third stack of papers from his bag and held them out for Astaroth to take. The Devil prince smiled while he strolled away from the paintings and snatched up the documents. “There are doctored financial accounts here as well as some letters exchanged between the late Bishop L’oral and our very own Mr. Hanson, who has already sold me his soul to make up for his lacking funds.” Astaroth showed the papers to the priests, who looked them over in shock.

“Bishop L’oral did this?” Priestess Olivia murmured.

“We weren’t aware of this,” Priest Dustin said. “You can’t ask our church to pay for this!” Priest Caleb shouted.

“Oh but I can. In the letters, Bishop L’oral signed his own name, but all the financial accounts reference this church.”

“So we owe 6,400 gold?” Priest Dustin’s mouth felt dry. “We can’t afford that.”

“Really?” Astaroth smiled. “Mr. Hanson, do remind them what awaits them and their apprentices if they default on their debt.”

The old and sweaty man lowered his head. “My soul belongs to Lord Astaroth, and I am beholden to his will. He can treat me however he pleases, even if it results in my death. When I do die, my soul will be transformed into power and currency for Lord Astaroth.”

The three priests paled. Reality was far worse than what they had imagined.

“Thank you, Mr. Hanson,” Astaroth chuckled. “Indebted souls really do have it rough, since they’re classified as property. Isn’t it lovely?”

“What if we disbanded the church?” Priestess Olivia asked suddenly. “The organization that owes the debt would be no more.”

“That’s true. But the tax for independent worshippers of hostile religions is 100 gold each.”

Olivia bit her lip. That was 3,000 gold to pay for all the worshippers, which they still didn’t have. Some people would be forced to sell their souls.

Gnashing his teeth, Priest Caleb had an outburst. “We can’t move the paintings, but we can sell the building and the jewels! They’re worth, what, 500 per rock, right?!”

“Five hundred?” Astaroth laughed. “If they’re worth that much, sure, you can sell them to pay back the embezzled gold, but how are you planning to afford your property taxes once you’ve reevaluated the art here?”

With one hand gently propping his chin, the Devil’s smile stretched wide, and the three priests realized their escape was cut off from all sides from the very beginning. Probably, no matter what they came up with, Astaroth had already accounted for it. Dustin looked ready to collapse, Olivia was anxiously biting her thumbnail, and Caleb’s fists were about to start talking for him.

The look on the Devil child’s face read “checkmate”.

“Since you all look so troubled, I have a proposition. There’s something you could do for me, and in exchange I’ll pay you a commission fee that offsets your debt, effectively clearing it. How does that sound?”

“What could you possibly ask of us?” Priestess Olivia grumbled suspiciously.

“And why?” Priest Dustin added hoarsely. “Whatever it is, you could just force us to do it after you own our souls.”

“Oh, simple. I don’t want you three to kill yourselves before I can squeeze any labour out of you. If you die now, I’ll still have your souls, but right now it’s your bodies I find valuable, so I’m making an offer where we both get to keep what we want.”

Astaroth’s eyes flashed gold, and a glowing document appeared out of thin air. The light soon faded but it sparked up again wherever he shifted his fingers and put new pressure onto the parchment. The golden scrawl coating its face was beautiful, with curving, welcoming penmanship.

“This is a contract. It’s mine, so I suppose you could call it a Devil’s contract, but that’s being pedantic. It doesn’t sell away the signer’s soul is what I’m getting at.”

“You want us to sign this?” Dustin confirmed. He peered at the text, which appeared to use Celestial characters, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of what it said. Was this a dialect he hadn’t seen before? To think a Devil knew Celestial better than a Priest…

“Yes, but more importantly, I want you to get regular citizens to sign these.”

“What will happen to the people who sign?” Caleb demanded. Olivia nodded seriously to second his question.

“They will respect the law,” Astaroth told them, “The importance of order is one of the few things Devils and Angels agree on, but you humans tend to take it or leave it according to your own benefit. How many of your criminals willingly lend themselves to retribution? I find it tiresome and sad.”

“Is this Celestial?” Priest Dustin asked, unable to take his eyes off the golden scrawl.

Astaroth smiled enigmatically. “Official contracts can be written in any language according to the Devil’s Law. I thought it might cause problems for you if I asked you to hand out contracts written in Infernal script. Now, what do you think of my offer? You don’t need to lie to anybody about what these are, just say the bare minimum and let them draw their own conclusions. You get to keep your souls, and I secure your labor. It’s a win for both of us.”

There was something suspicious still—clearly there was, but the three priests were now too tired and desperate to see that. Accepting this offer meant that none of them would have to sell their souls. The only other possible way out was to fight, but they would surely lose. For now, this was the best they could hope for.

When the priests accepted Astaroth’s offer, they were all three asked to sign a contract written in Common on ordinary parchment that they could clearly read. It was an ordinary legal agreement: one that didn’t sell their souls away; it simply obliged them to see to it that as many people as possible in the city had signed a copy of Astaroth’s commissioned contract. In exchange, they were absolved of their debt.

After that, they were the first three to sign underneath the golden script. The Devil child smiled at them blissfully.

“It was a profitable visit. I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you for your cooperation, and good night.”

His shadow loomed, casting the whole interior into darkness as he retreated through the front door and shut it tightly.