Milc/C.J. Milnes
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Chapter 85 - Demonic wisdom.
🕑 Added 2025-08-27 19:51:35 +0000 UTCI turned like I was wearing a neck brace, or like Batman before he got a helmet upgrade. Defiant Belligerence settled onto the barstool next to me and waved a finger at Beville, who had retreated down the bar. Without his armour, he looked like he had sounded, thin and fragile.
“Lord Inquaestor, what’ll it be, sir?” he asked with pure professionalism as he returned. I suspected the use of the fancy title had been as much for my benefit as a courtesy to the thin man next to me.
“A pint of Hogspiss, please, Beville. How’s the family?” Still the same reedy, high-pitched voice.
“Very good, sir. Young Dreville turns eighteen summers old in a month. He’s a steady hand on a beer pump and quick at changing barrels. I think he’ll go far. A bright future behind the taps, I’m sure.”
“Are all your family involved in the pub trade?” I asked.
“Pub trade? We are all Bar Lords. Every single one of us.” His voice was sharper than usual as he said this.
“It’s a fine trade.” I waggled my glass at him. “Your good health!”
“Thank you, sir.” He bustled off to wipe more glasses that were already gleaming.
“Not all of them,” warbled Belligerence quietly after Beville had left us. “There is an offshoot of the family, a series of cousins who turned to highway robbery. The De Sacklick’s usually get a Cellar Boy or Barrel Monkey class at the start, then evolve to Bar Lords over time. Several members of the cadet branch of the family rolled the Camp Fire Cook class and found they enjoyed life on the road a bit too much. They went feral. The Inquaesition and the Street Sweepers have gotten most of them, but Heville the Block is still running around the hills somewhere north of Longbottom, robbing the corpses of travellers and taking slaves for the stumpies.”
“Fascinating,” I drawled sarcastically. “What do you want?”
“It must be rough being forced to live in another creature's shape to get by. How does it feel to be a dragon trapped in a human body?”
“I’m not trapped!” I snapped. “I’m still me even if I am cosplaying as a mammal. I can change back anytime I want to.”
“I’m sure. Tell me, how do you handle the demon of greed that dwells in your heart?” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“What is it you’re after, Doorbell? I’ve signed the bloody paperwork, got a badge, and done the tests.”
“Sad to say, but chasing down people who haven’t done their paperwork correctly is largely what we do these days.” He took a long sip of his drink. “We used to be out hunting heretics and warlocks, pricking witches and burning them alive. My old man told me such wonderful stories growing up.”
“Stories about burning people alive are fond childhood memories for you? Hah, and I thought I had it bad with my old man. He wanted me to go into accountancy, head up the finance team in his firm. That was just a stepping stone to the CEO position, though. Everything was just a stepping stone to him.” I had finished my Golden Jack and waved for a refill.
“This is on your original world?” he asked with interest.
“Well, no one was bitching at me about book-to-book accounting and balance sheets while I was stuck in my egg, dude.”
“Your father must have been a powerful man. Did your mother ameliorate any of that pressure?” he replied.
“Ok. Enough of the psychoanalysing of Bob. What do you want, Ringingbell?”
“Does calling me names make you feel more secure? And what on Helstat is psychoanalysis?”
“It’s where you pry into someone’s past to try and understand them. And I do like calling you names, not because it makes me feel secure, though, it’s because I get the feeling you’re the kind of nobhead that everyone else is too scared to call names. You prick.” My voice had risen slightly, and the rest of the bar had fallen into silence. It had been a long day, and I wasn’t in the mood to be quizzed by the authorities. Belligerence glanced around, and the hubbub resumed at a slightly increased volume.
“Fascinating. I shall have to look into that particular subject in more detail.” Oh shit, had I just introduced a secret policeman to the idea of psychological profiling? That wasn’t going to do my karma any favours. “I just wanted to beard the dragon in his den, so to speak. Brother Light Invincible will be assigned to lead the Queastor Chapterhouse in Fidler’s Mill, and I was hoping to make introductions. It was just bad luck that you were on the wrong side of Karen and ignorant of our bylaws, so you caught the ire of the Web. We try very hard to work hand in glove with the nobility, or gentry, in your case.”
“Who gets to be the hand?” I asked, narrowing my purple eyes at the human.
“Very droll, Sir Bob.” He drank the rest of his pint. “I’ll leave you to your business. I assume Light Invincible will be able to reach you easily enough at, what was it called? The Swinging Cod, when the time is right?”
“Sure. I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but it hasn’t.”
“Farewell, Sir Bob.” He stood, nodded amicably to me, and then threaded his way through the tables between him and the door. The other patrons all seemed to lean out of his way as he passed, so his simple white robes didn’t brush against anyone in the crowded bar.
I sat in moody silence for an hour or so while I ate and had a few more drinks before heading off to my room. As I settled into bed and pulled the thin duvet up over my body, I stared at the white ceiling in silent contemplation.
Breakfast was a buffet affair and almost a match for Jenny and Esme’s pastry delights. As I was eating my fill, Beville approached and handed me a slip of paper. It was an invitation to attend Viscout Von Kolben's estate at my earliest convenience. The way it was phrased felt vaguely along the lines of ‘and that means as soon as possible’. But I had gold to get from a weird bug dude first.
Phillpot’s Pecuniary Palace of Pap was quiet at this time of day. An imp greeted me at the door when I knocked and glared at me.
“Not open yet, oh, foul produce of thy mother's meatflaps. Come back in an hour!” it snapped at me.
“Nyal, I’d like to speak to Phillpot about our arrangement.”
The little demon blinked rapidly for several moments.
“Do come in, most honoured smegma of the material plane.” Nyal did good work, it seemed. I was ushered through into Phillpot’s private rooms and found the man was once again loafing about in his kimono-like attire, stretched out on a settee with an imp feeding him grapes.
“Bob. Here’s what was promised. Yes, Nyal, I know. I’m not going to forget to mention it, you Succubus. Oh, don’t make promises I want you to keep, demon girl!”
“I take it Nyal is not happy with you?” As I spoke, I caught the pouch of holding and stuck my finger in the mouth to assess the contents. I was up six million on this little venture already. Bloody hell, I should visit the city more often!
“Is she ever? It’s like having a lover and a nigh omnipotent mother rolled up into one being who lives inside your head.” Ew.
“Setting that aside, what else does your dark lady of dream-pegging want you to do?” My primary internal demon was currently curled up in a ball, sweating and moaning happily, ever since I checked the contents of the pouch. He’d be out of it for a while, I suspected.
“You’re off to see the viscount, I take it?”
“I thought you pulled you’re pets from my shadow?”
“There are shadows and then there are shadows. This wasn’t on me, blame Nyal. She seems to like you. No, I won’t tell him about that. You think he wants to know what you do in my… She has a soft spot for you, and believe me, the ruler of the Third Circle doesn’t have many soft spots.” A portal to hell tore open next to Phillpot, and the thing that swam in Philpott’s eyes shot across to merge with it.
“You’ll only fuck this up, stick insect. Let the grown-up handle it.” A voice like a donkey being rolled in broken glass. I suppressed my wince and carefully avoided looking directly at the abomination of teeth and tentacles, as well as the nightmare world I would catch glimpses of as the limbs writhed.
“Hello, Nyal,” I said, staring once again at the very finely stuccoed ceiling, as Phillpot pouted and flounced back to his couch. Remarkable trowel and brush work on the little ridges. The plasterer who made it must have been a genius.
“Dragon. Man. Your duality is delightful, Bob. The Enterprise is one of the many organisations I have some dealings with on the material plane. You don’t want to follow the left-hand path; that much is obvious. A shame, perhaps. Your moral grumbling echoes in your dreams, doesn’t it?”
“No idea what you're talking about.” Her laughter could be used to slice marble slabs.
“Come now, mortal. I am the Lady of the Night. And not in that sense! I have imps and demonettes to deal with that side of the job now,” she snapped the last part as though reading my thoughts. “My minions keep tabs on many mortals in the realm of strife, your waking world, but I see all that passes in your dreams. I’m reasonably confident Esme won’t have any issues about that thing that’s troubling you, by the way.” I flinched adn blushed bright pink. Bloody mammalian reactions. “Now, this noble you're going to visit is a man much like yourself, a bit of an ass, but essentially pure of heart. He faces much the same predicament as you do.”
“You mean he needs the money and has fallen in with a bad crowd?”
“Tsk. He has his own demons, petty things that only exist in his head, and friend Dalgliesh is an expert at exploiting others' foibles. Did you know Von Kolben’s lands are just to the south of your own? Baron Pratnip still holds the rest of the North Riding, but to the south of that is the Longbottom Drop, as the county is known. Von Kolbens owes fealty to Countess Wriggleworth, a situation he is not happy about. I hope you get to meet Baron Pratnip; he is not such a bad sort.”
“His son was a pillock.”
“Sometimes the apple falls rather far from the tree. The three of you would make a fine counterweight to Forverknot and Gigglebottom in the north.”
“Politics,” sneered Phillpot as he accepted another grape from the imp, “is a fantastic way to get yourself into trouble. Sometimes trouble is profitable, sometimes it isn’t. If you want to get rich, I’d stay out of Nyal’s games. She and Holgetric have a bet on about–” He fell silent as a tentacle lined with eyeballs and perfectly normal human mouths pivoted in his direction.
“What are you saying?” I asked the rip in reality.
“Sometimes you can find friends in the most unlikely of places.” I stared off to the left of the demon with a blank expression on my face. “Oh, for the love of Lust! I’m suggesting that you, Kolbens, and Pratnip have a chat and try to come to an agreement. An alliance of sorts. Is this clear enough for you?”
Now, I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, and my draconic tendency to not take criticism well only exacerbated this trait, but not even I was stupid enough to bicker with a ruler of hell.
“Gotcha. Ally with Kolben, help him out of his jam with the Deebers, both of us get chummy with Pratnip and his twat of a son.”
There was no way in any kind of hell I was going to do what this demon was suggesting.
