Categories > Original > Romance > Saintism

Chapter 8 - Luciel

by _DoubleS0ft_ 0 reviews

In which luciel calls in a favor. There is a torture and death scene in this chapter.

Category: Romance - Rating: R - Genres: Drama,Fantasy,Romance - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2022-06-04 - 2519 words

Although I can do what you’ve asked, I’m not sure why you’re making this request.. But I do owe you a debt for saving my life and placing me where I am today. and if this is all you want in return after all these years I’ll gladly do it. But humor this old man, do tell me what suddenly made you interested in this? And in warmongering Eithoria of all places. They’re quite anti demon. I will admit, I’m already amused at how insulted that ass Roland will be by your presence. I’m sure you already know he’s expanding. Not that it affects you, being what you are. Forgive me for rambling, it’s the old age. My son will be attending as well. I hope you don’t mind traveling together, instead of flying to Eithoria on your own. I trust his guards, but I feel he will be safer having you along for the ride. Enclosed is the invitation that was extended to me and my court. I hope whatever you’re aiming for comes to fruition.

“Is that all it says?” Luciel asked, taking a sip of mint tea. Seated in the larger library several floors down from his study, he looked out the window watching the snow fall. He’d waited two days for the reply to his letter and had in that time finished his preparations. Although he would still have his men keeping an eye on him, as always, he intended to make the best of his anonymity. No one outside of Umbris knew his rank, and so he could come and go in other countries as he pleased.

“Yes, and here is the invitation to get you in.” Grimalkin said, handing the vellum card out to Luciel.

He took it, skimming over it then setting it aside. “Do you have something you want to say? I know that look.” Luciel sighed, looking up at Grimalkin.

“If I could speak plainly, then I must admit I don’t understand you. Going into human territory right now, when they’ve got both their saintess and hero in that area, seems very unwise.” Grimalkin mused aloud, his professional and uptight demeanor gone.

“Unless there’s a statue in Altargia I don’t know of, she hasn’t received a soul stone from any of the previous saintesses. It’ll be fine.” Luciel replied, taking another sip of his tea.

“Still, you said this one is different right? She’s more like the goddess? She could have power you haven’t encountered before. You’re lucky she didn’t recognize you and out you right away as our king.” Grimalkin continued, frowning at his friend’s relaxed tone.

“She think’s I’m a beast. She can’t even sense demonic energy yet, a basic skill, so nothing to worry about.” Luciel smiled, remembering her insisting he have a bite of her shortbread. He’d never just sat and chatted with anyone like that aside from Grimalkin. And he hadn’t shared a meal with anyone before, it had felt indescribably good. He wanted to eat with her again someday. She’d like the food here, especially the sweets.

“And how long will that last? How do you explain having wings and horns?” Grimalkin’s nagging broke him out of his thoughts.

“I’ll just say I’m a dragon if she asks.” Luciel shrugged “Although I don’t think she will.”

“A dragon with feathered wings?” Grimalkin said incredulously, and Luciel had to hold back his laughter.

“Grim, she’s not going to ask. And even if she does, how would she know dragons don’t have feathers? She’s not—never mind. Just trust me, it’ll be fine.” Luciel replied holding out his teacup for a refill. Grimalkin waved a glowing paw, and an elegant teapot with a rose motif appeared midair. It poured the steaming brew into his cup, while Grimalkin sat down in the plush chair opposite him.

“You just seem to have an unusual interest in this saintess. I’ve never seen you take an interest in humans before, aside from that eccentric man. Is this an attempt to get close enough that you can kill her before she awakens?” Grimalkin asked, pouring himself a cup of the mint tea.

“No. I’m not going to kill her.” Luciel said coldly, shooting grimalkin a hard glare.

“Of course not.” Grimalkin nodded and took a sip of his tea, “forgive me, I misspoke.”

“And Leopold was an investment, if anything. I intend to create a situation in which I can get another deal from his son. Having a human country indebted to me is a benefit to all of us.” Luciel explained, his demeanor more frigid. The lax conversation between friends was over.

He was aware that his latest behavior made no sense to those who knew him well. He’d always been a careful, calculating person. And his deep hatred for humans was obvious in the sheer number of those he’d killed. But to him, she was above all of that. It wouldn’t make sense even if he told his reasoning to anyone else. He’d just gleefully tortured a captured group of human soldiers yesterday, but this woman was special to him? Even he would have a hard time believing that if he were in their shoes.

“I understand you’re worried, but my relationship with her is of no interest to anyone but the two of us. I am still unquestionably dedicated to saving this kingdom from the blight the humans caused. That’s all you need to know.” Luciel continued “I’ll be leaving for Balhae in an hour to travel with prince Mikhail. Take care of things here for me.”

“It shall be done.” Grimalkin replied, disappearing in a cloud of purple smoke.

Putting aside his tea, Luciel sat and stared out the window at the night sky. I’d better go get this over with, I have better things to waste my time on than stubborn humans. I’m surprised most of them held out as long as they did. But I got plenty out of the scrawny one. It was quite funny watching him squeal.

Rising from his chair, the room around him distorted into a long hallway. The walls became dark stone, with torches resting on them. The air was choked with the stench of blood, urine, and excrement. Overpowering it all was the distinctive scent of rotting bodies. Iron doors line the walls, the occupants inside only visible through the small rectangular windows in them. Luciel turned to the nearest door and spoke to the men stationed outside of it “Any progress?”

“No sir. We haven't been able to get any more of the prisoners to talk.” One of the guards replied stiffly.

“Fine.” Luciel replied and walked straight through the iron door, not bothering to wait for the guards to open it.

The naked man inside groaned in pain upon seeing Luciel walking through the thick metal door with little effort. The prisoner was part of a group of humans his spies had caught in Cazica. After days of torture, he’d found out they were sent to find the location of the demon folk’s homeland. What had disturbed Luciel was that no one should know Umbris and Cazica were on opposite ends of the ocean.

Umbris and the entire continent it sat on was surrounded by a veil of his magic, hiding it away. He’d long ago wormed his way into the mind of Cazica’s king, and had a law passed that banned its citizens from crossing the northern ocean. And so, this group appearing there asking about Umbris’s location had set off alarm bells in his head. He still couldn’t get them to confess who had sent them, and it frustrated him to no end.

Turning his attention to the prisoner chained to the wall he stepped closer, watching the man’s chest rapidly rise and fall. Luciel reached out one gloved finger and poked into the open gash on the man’s stomach. The man’s breath quickened, his fingerless hands shaking in the wrist restraints, and the sour smell of his fear filled Luciel’s nose.

“Do you have anything to tell me?” Luciel asked coldly, pulling his hand away to pick up a dull blade crusted in dried blood from the table next to him.

The man’s eyes flicked between the weapon to Luciel’s expressionless face and began to hyperventilate.

“No?” Luciel questioned and received no response but gasping terrified breaths “we’ll just continue where they left off then. Do you know what this does?”

Luciel gestured to the red magic circle that appeared behind the man and continued “This will keep you awake. And alive, although you’ll wish you weren’t.”

Testing the weight of the serrated blade in his gloved hands, he waited patiently while the man pissed himself in his terror. Disgusting creature he thought as he briefly set the knife back down.

Luciel carefully removed and folded his jacket, shirt, and cape, then set them on the back of the chipped wooden chair in the middle of the room. Perhaps my pants should go as well. They are white. But it would be funnier to make grimalkin mad at me for getting blood on them.

Walking back to his victim, he picked up the knife and stabbed it halfway into the horizontal open stomach wound. Ignoring the cries of pain, he began to methodically saw it open wider until the large intestine spilled out into his hand. Blood pooled on the floor beneath the two of them, splashing onto his black boots. The chains rattled on the prisoner’s restraints as he struggled to escape the painful invasion.

Luciel gave the slippery organ a tug, eliciting further high-pitched screams. He continued slowly opening his subject, dragging the dull serrated edge in a vertical slice between the ribs. The prisoner had an athletic build, and Luciel had to use more force than he would have if the blade had been sharp.

This prolonged his work, and several hours had passed before he’d made the cuts to his liking. His nose had gone blind to the putrid cocktail of scents, and he sat back to admire his efforts. The skin around the wound was pulled back and held by iron hooks, exposing the organs inside. The lower intestine was removed and laying on the floor beneath the prisoner’s bloodied feet.

Luciel had blood splattered on his face and chest, soaking into his pants and covering his pale arms. The prisoner, unable to blackout from the pain, or die from being gutted, was still incessantly screaming.

“Do you have anything you want to say now?” Luciel asked in a bored tone, poking the tip of the knife into his gloved index finger.

“p-please kill me.” the man stuttered, his mouth covered in blood and vomit that leaked down onto his neck. Luciel narrowed his eyes reached a hand into the man's chest, grabbing onto the frantically beating heart.

“Please! Please just kill me! don’t do this.” The prisoner pleaded, his eyes filled with fresh tears.

“Give me a name.” Luciel replied, squeezing the heart in a tight grip.

“Wilfram! Wilfram Voss.” The man choked out after Luciel let go.

“And where is this wilfram from?” Luciel pressed, feeling the organ still irregularly beating in his hand.

“He’s a marquis in Eithoria. Wants to get some b-brownie points with the c-church or something. I don’t know any more than that, I swear.” The man was sobbing now, mixed in with incoherent begging for his life.

“I see. How fortuitous then.” Luciel said, setting the bloody knife down on the table and peeling off his gloves. They were soaked through, and he looked at his blood covered hands in distaste.

Succubi, come to me he thought and from a glowing portal behind him four scantily clad succubus appeared in the room, licking their lips. They each had dark leathery wings on their backs, and a heart shaped tail that ended in a sharp point.

“It smells delicious in here!” the blonde one exclaimed joyfully, her tail swishing back and forth.

“Can we eat this?” the pink haired one asked, floating closer to the prisoner who watched them with wide eyes, his gaze fixed on her breasts.

“Go ahead.” Luciel said briskly, carefully wrapping his discarded clothing in his red cape to keep his hands from staining them.

“I want the liver!” the black haired one shrieked and began to dig into the man’s wound.

“Aww, I wanted that. I’ll take a lung then.” The blue haired one sighed as the prisoner resumed his screaming.

Luciel collected his things and the room distorted again, this time turning into his large bathroom. It was completely marble and in the center of the room was a heated bath large enough for an army. On one end of it sat a statue of a mermaid with water flowing out of the jug she held.

He quickly undressed and stepped into the steaming pool. He waded in until the water reached his shoulders and closed his eyes. Wilfram. I’ll remember that name. If he’s a noble, he’ll be at that ball. I’ll have my guard find him while I’m with Rosalin. There must be more to it than trying to get on the church’s good side. Are they trying to bring war right to my doorstep? Fuck.

The water was tinted pink as he walked towards the edge and grabbed a bar of pine and sandalwood scented soap to clean himself. He vigorously scrubbed his skin and long golden strands, making sure there was no blood encrusted on his pointed ears. He then picked up a coarse wooden brush and ran it over every inch of his horns.

Its always a pain to clean these after a session he thought as he worked on his dark wings next, pulling out the looser feathers. When he was satisfied that he’d gotten all the blood off, he walked out of the pool. Water ran down his chiseled body in rivulets as he wrung out his hair. A fluffy navy-blue towel floated towards him and he wrapped it snugly around his waist.

He sat down on the white marble edge of the pool and looked up at the sky light while the water magically cleaned itself. The snow had stopped falling outside, and the night was slowly fading away to dawn.
Damn, another sleepless night. I’ll catch up on sleep later, I’ll have to leave soon if I want to make it to Balhae at a reasonable hour.
He stretched his wings in preparation of the long flight, and even longer carriage ride, ahead as he watched the sun rise in beautiful shades of gold, orange, and blue.
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