RE: Monarch
Chapter 267: Kholis XII

"Keep your arms spread," Maya commanded, utterly serious.

I pulled one of the waistcoats I'd packed taut around a terribly uncomfortable-looking demon's shoulders and waist. It held for a moment, then shifted sideways. "Damn. Still falling crooked. We'll need another pin—make sure he stays still."

Vogrin stared through the paneled wood ceiling to the skies above, jaw slack in a rictus of prayer. "Strike me down, someone, anyone, and find a loyal servant forever in your service."

"Don't be dramatic..." Deep in focus, I stuck out my tongue subconsciously, struggling to maneuver the pin without stabbing the demon or myself. The waistcoat slipped again. "Hold still."

"I am holding still. You're the one fumbling about like a blind seamstress."

We'd all found our way into the semi-cramped quarters of the upstairs bathroom and now shared the wide mirror. Maya had called up when we returned, and once I'd filled her in, she spent only a few minutes scolding me before inviting us both into the space. As much as I badgered and pestered, Vogrin outright refused to take a bath, eventually caving on compromise and sanitizing with a spell. Despite being capable of using the magic, he'd never bothered with it before. Other than minor notes of brimstone, his scent was always neutral.

"This is the most unnecessary you've ever been," Vogrin said, his head tilting my way. "And that's saying something."

"Ni'lend," I murmured, pulling another pin from my sleeve. "My demon is browbeating me."

"Perhaps it's because you've been neglecting him."

"That's—He's very independent. I didn't know I was neglecting him."

"No one is—" Vogrin's voice cut off, slightly strangled as Maya tied a cerulean kerchief around his neck that nicely accented the navy blue of the waistcoat. "There's been no neglect. Nor abuse. Other than a spot of mana starvation at the beginning, I've been quite happy with both this contract and the one that came before it."

"Ni'lend," Maya asked, still adjusting the kerchief, "has the demon ever seemed happy?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Particularly in the capital," Vogrin interjected vehemently, grunting as Maya reached around his head and loosened the kerchief slightly. "I found great joy in watching the nobles clad their pets in hideous dresses, oohing and aahing while the beasts sat there in wretched misery, wishing for death, believing wholeheartedly that such a thing could never happen to me."

I patted him sympathetically. "I'd never make you wear a dress."

"Unless you wanted to." Maya paused, hands still at his collar. "Is this a demon-doth-protest-too-much situation? Do you want to wear a d—"

"No."

"Very well."

"This is not the laughing matter you both seem to believe it is." Something in his voice changed as it climbed in tension. "I am an attendant, and have always been such. It has always been me and the one I serve, and the one I serve has always required my full attention. I wouldn't even know what to do with myself, left to my own devices."

It was the most veritable anxiety I'd ever felt from Vogrin, despite the myriad of terrible situations we frequently found ourselves in.

Maya gave me a meaningful look, then stepped into the bedroom, giving us both some space.

I cleared my throat and approached, standing beside him in the mirror. "Apologies. I didn't realize your hesitation was anything more than the usual reticence."

He was silent before the words came, practically a recitation. "I'll do as you wish."

I blew out air. "But you don't want to."

"Mortals covet interruptions from daily life because they don't have enough time to do as they please. Immortals are the opposite." He paused, adjusting his stance in the ill-fitting waistcoat. "Interests, routines, and constant pursuit of duty present worthy diversions from universal constants that grow oppressive in their repetition and mundanity. It's why so many demons develop odd quirks and obsessions, varied as they are esoteric." He winced a little, clearly expecting outright dismissal.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"As a distraction. Alright." I scratched my head. "That makes sense now that I think about it."

The words rang true. Most immortals I'd encountered weren't exactly forthcoming, but the stories always gave the sense that those living an eternal existence eventually gained otherworldly rationality and serenity. Yet Ozra and Thoth, two of the oldest individuals I'd come into contact with, were anything but.

Ozra, while perhaps less flamboyantly violent and aggressive than his fellows on the surface, had a mean streak that ran deep. The endless years hadn't made him perfect—powerful, yes, but despite his age and fathomless experience, he could be outmaneuvered. Even impulsive.

Thoth was a different beast entirely. She wore her madness like a shroud, covering every visible aspect of the person beneath until the madness was all that remained. Yet it was just that—a shroud. I was increasingly sure now that a significant portion of her affectation was an act. She was simply too calculated and intentional.

"Do you think the arch-mage is the same?" I asked.

"An interesting notion, but a pointless one, I'm afraid." Vogrin's jaw worked, and he looked lost in memory. "She is old. If I were to guess, more ancient than me. Younger than Ozra, but not by much." His expression grew puzzled. "That is part of what makes her so vexing. No one as powerful and experienced as her cuts their teeth in silence. Yet here she is, fully formed and whole, as if emerged from the ash of some hateful mountain."

As he entertained the notion, I fought the urge to hold my breath. Eventually Vogrin shrugged.

"Perhaps she lived eons in some distant plane of little relevance. It's impossible to say. Nearly everything about her is reminiscent of a demon who has lost their allegiance and with it, their purpose." He shifted, the waistcoat pulling awkwardly across his shoulders. "She has given herself over to her vices and reveled in the debauchery for so long that it has become her primary mode of being. She exists only to expel her strength."

Something about that felt wrong. "I'm not sure. We've seen her drop that guise before."

"In the sanctum?" When I nodded, Vogrin sighed. "Yes. We have. To great effect. Whoever Thoth is, she is undoubtedly immortal. When one lives long enough, even the rarest of circumstances becomes routine. The same questions beget the same answers, over and over, until there seems no point in looking for solutions beyond what has already been habitually considered."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "If she's as old as I believe, it's entirely possible she is not a calculated person playing at madness, but rather the personification of chaos feigning calculation out of habit. In practice it seems much the same, especially from a mortal perspective. But it is not. Structure grants a reprieve from the debauchery, rather than the other way around."

His voice grew quieter. "Immersing oneself in a vice eventually grows tiresome. Thus a break from the routine—however initially stimulating it might be—is eventually needed. This is the inevitable end of all things that furnish joy."

The obvious qualms with that statement must have shown on my face, because Vogrin chuckled. "Don't worry. You're mortal. You'll be dead long before the things that give you joy turn to dust."

"Doesn't exactly make me feel better, but thanks, I guess." I mustered a smile, doing my best not to make it obvious how deeply the words had rattled me, and returned to the matter at hand. I peered at Vogrin with growing guilt, then an idea occurred.

"What about a light assignment?" I suggested. "Recon, the sort of work you're best at. But I want you to immerse yourself. Really get a sense of the place and the people. Live the way they live, sleep where they sleep, experience the food and the culture."

His head tilted toward me, and I felt his stare through the blindfold. "Isn't that just a vacation with more structure?"

Yes.

"Not exactly." I studied myself in the mirror and straightened my collar. "I've seen my share of cities, towns, and villages. Kholis ranks high on that list in its current form. However, I'm obviously biased toward what they're trying to do here, and having the baron as a close friend makes impartiality difficult."

"Ah." Vogrin immediately picked up on the idea and shifted toward me slightly. "A more objective perspective is in order, then. An evaluation of the town's current viability, along with an audit of their finances and infrastructure. How refreshingly tedious."

"The real story is never told purely on parchment," Maya volunteered from the bedroom. I looked back through the open door to where she stood, studying various bottles and powders that had been pulled out of the nightstand. "Strong finances and production matter little if there is no faith in the local leadership and the people are on the verge of revolt."

"Yes..." Vogrin crossed his arms and rested his chin on a fist, pondering that. "I'll need to get a feel for the people themselves. Word of mouth. Get a sense of whether there's infighting brewing among the many groups represented here, and if so, an exhaustive list of who and why. There'll be several tavern trips in my future, assuming you want this all in two days."

I fished a few silver rods from my purse and handed them to him. "No one will care if you're observing so long as you're drinking. It's dark looks from sober men that puts an entire establishment on edge."

"Clever." The side of his mouth quirked. "Actually, this should be more than enough for a room. If I secured board in a tavern, there'd be even fewer questions about my comings and goings."

"Great thinking." I turned my head to cough, and hidden from Vogrin, winked at Maya.