Malvyn entered Jaffe Arre’s private quarters half expecting to be knocked out or see interrogators. Instead he saw a rather unremarkable room, save for the odd trinkets and baubles that were scattered about the place with either reckless abandon or precise positioning (Malvyn honestly couldn’t tell which it was).

His hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he heard the door close shut behind him and the many, many locks on it being sealed one by one. He turned around only to see Jaffe Arre smiling like a madman, his eyes having lost all color save for black.

“From one servant to another, I bid thee good day.” Jaffe Arre said in an oddly feminine and cheerful voice that seemed incongruous to his form. The head advisor bowed deeply like he was putting on a play as the starring actor. “Ahh, please forgive the rather rough costume I am wearing. Unfortunately, they don’t make outfits like they used to. Ahh, to remember the days long since past when the Races were far more powerful and far more durable. Striking a bargain then felt far more… rewarding for a player of the stage like myself.”

Malvyn backed off and drew his sword.

“I know not what games you are playing, Chief Advisor, but I will not be made a fool of by this lunacy. If you cornered me here just to pretend to be someone else, then I-.”

Jaffe Arre seemed startled, but then a smile too large to be on his face crawled across it.

“Ah, mine good sir! Where be’st mine manners? Prithee, wait a moment while’st I change’th into something far more… comfortable.”

Jaffe Arre’s body slumped to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut. A spectral form of a twisted feminine jester wearing a smiling mask rose from Jaffe Arre’s limp corpse and once it reached its full height it took a deep bow.

“I am known across Abyss as one of the Hell Jesters. Please, as I have taken the form you see before you, refer to my exitence as a Hell Jester variant. A ‘Hellequin’, if you will.”

Malvyn now took a fully battle-ready stance.

“I will not permit a demon like you to interfere with my work!”

The Hellequin gestured like a true stage performer as if to deny any hostility.

“No, no, no, my good sir! Why ever would I want that nuisance of a King left alive? No, no, no! No indeed! I am here to help you, whether you want it or not. My master and yours have history that goes quite far back. Although, your current master does not have as immediate a connection with mine as the old Tyrant did.”

Neither sheathing his sword nor dispelling the magic dancing at his fingertips, Malvyn stood his ground.

“And I suppose you intend to use my body as your next puppet?”

“Never! Perish the thought!” The Hellequin said. “This fool’s cold cadaver still has its uses. So, if you do not mind…”

The Hellequin possessed Jaffe Arre’s corpse and it slowly rose to its feet.

The Hellequin-possessed Jaffe Arre smiled a wide, Cheshire grin and tossed a small idol to Malvyn who refused to catch it out of paranoia. The idol landed on the ground and as Malvyn looked at it his heart sank. It was a small effigy of Lord Vaile! He had let his distrust of a demon blind him to… Wait, demons were not supposed to be able to touch an idol of the divine, even when possessing someone! How had…?

The possessed corpse walked over, picked up the idol and rubbed it against its face.

“Don’t think for a moment, good sir, that my kind cannot worship and adore the one true god like you and yours can. Strange, isn’t it? For we malicious and twisted beings to be worshipping such a compassionate, merciful and upstanding fellow, I mean.”

The puppet walked over to Malvyn and put the idol up to his mouth.

“You let Him fall! Now, kiss and make up! Earn His forgiveness for your inexcusable transgression! Beg Him for His love to be bestowed upon you, or so help me Vaile I will fucking END you!”

The Hellequin having gone from calm and collected to stark raving mad in mere moments certainly shook Malvyn, but he sheathed his sword, dispelled his magic and took the idol in both hands before kissing it.

“Let us hope you have earned His forgiveness.” The corpse-puppet sighed. “Although, if you have not, fulfilling your life’s purpose by plunging your cold metal blade into that buffoon’s heart or throat or kidneys or liver may very well be enough to get you back in His good graces.” The puppeteered corpse unlocked all the locks on the door and opened it before turning back. “Good luck! We’re all rooting for you! So, go out there and break a leg! Or spine! Or anything that belongs to the fleshy, mortal body of that dungheap!”

Malvyn was left standing in Jaffe Arre’s room while holding an idol from what the Kingdom would call a ‘pagan’ faith. He quickly stashed the idol in a cabinet, left the room and went back to the throne room, arriving just in time to see ‘Jaffe Arre’ regale the court with ‘his’ assurances that Malvyn was a true patriot and servant of the One True God. Malvyn noticed that the words chosen by ‘Jaffe Arre’ were always true, but also not at all informative.

The puppeteered ‘Jaffe Arre’ never used clear phrasing, never spoke about anything other than ridiculously vague ‘details’ and never directly mentioned who the ‘One True God’ was. This demon was skirting around every potential landmine with the absolute minimum amount of clearance. Malvyn stared in wonder as he realized that if this was how a demon spoke, then they would make the absolute best politicians. Nothing this Hellequin said was untrue, everything it said was absolutely one-hundred percent factual and undeniably correct, but it used every word and phrase it needed to obscure its true intention and design behind innumerable layers of doublespeak and hidden meaning.

A fellow Duke approached Malvyn and put a hand on his shoulder. Malvyn looked and saw that the other Duke had a Red Mountain signet ring, just like him.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? How it can say nothing but the truth but also at the same time say nothing but lies.”

Malvyn smiled uncomfortably at his comrade in arms.

“Well, it’s all the better for it to exploit loopholes and intentionally vague and misleading wording. I don’t trust it. Not even as far as I could throw it. But it does seem to be faithful to the Almighty…”

The other Duke laughed.

“At least it is on our side, am I right?”

Malvyn smiled. “For now, at least, it is. But its kind are duplicitous by nature, are they not? Therefore, we have not the slightest bit of a chance to know if or when it will turn on us.”

The other Duke patted Malvyn’s back.

“Have faith, brother. All 60 of us, you and I included, are ready to let our blades taste the blood of the wicked. The Almighty is with us, and He will protect us and allow us to do His good work. I trust you are ready to ‘kill the enemy of our master’?”

Malvyn nodded as he watched the puppet of a man spin doctor its way into making the King set himself up for assassination.

“Always, brother. Always. For a better tomorrow for all?”

“Aye. For a better tomorrow for all. All save for people like them, of course.”

The two conspirators watched the court from a safe distance, knowing full well that it was unlikely that they or their fellows would emerge from their endeavor unscathed, let alone alive. Still, the dominos had started to fall, and time was running out. In a few days, it would be the 15th of Marchen, and on that day they would spring their trap.

All they could hope for was that everything would go perfectly, and that the date would forevermore be remembered as the day a tyrant died so that The Tyrant could ascend to the throne.