Haldir’s Demagoria

“Hum, hum. Enough, enough. Though you’re temporarily out of danger, the situation is far from safe. Three million suras inhabit this world, and from what I’ve seen in your memories, 25% have already pledged themselves to the Sura Queen. Driven by fear or starvation, many more can compromise. Tonight, tomorrow, the day after—within three days—they will either bolster the Fehl Queen’s ranks or perish. Neither are acceptable options,” Kilian said, bringing the prostrated suras back to the matter at hand.

Filled with a sense of gravity, they raised their eyes at Kilian, awaiting his directives.

“I want you to celebrate your survival with King Haldir’s Demagoria. Through this festival, you can connect to all the suras across this land, and tell them about their new option. For those willing, activate the Tribal Teleportation Circles, and have them directly warp here. I believe that across the next three days, at least 60% will join our ranks.” In Sura tongue, a demagoria was a festival held every 100 years to celebrate a specific historical figure.

Haldir was the last Sura King in the plane’s recorded history, remembered for sacrificing his life to convince the mightiest Seven-Wheels Throne, Hel, to put an end to the Throne-Fehl war. Although thrones were an aloof, passionless race, Haldir’s sacrifice stirred something new in Hel—and in her position of Choir Marshal, she met and convinced Ashera to end the war.

After the two hegemonic races signed the contract that forbade their ruling bodies from walking the Fehl Plane without supervision of the other party, Hel granted the Sura Plane her Rebirth Tree Seed, and forcefully buried Ashera’s Fortress of Vice—creating the misconception that both leaders bestowed gifts on the Sura Plane.

With the Rebirth Tree Seed, the suras rebuilt their civilization. As for the sealed Fortress, in desperate times, they could awaken it to protect themselves. Unfortunately, Hel underestimated Ashera’s might, and without her blood, the suras couldn’t open the door to the Fortress. Although he didn’t know about all it contained, Kilian didn’t doubt that the Fortress would soon become a war zone for the Fehl Plane’s Warring Factions.

“Master, although the other tribes need our permission before teleporting here, mass teleportations will alert the Fehl Suras, and may trigger an invasion. Are we ready?” The leading elder asked. Granted, he believed in Kilian’s abilities, he’d lived for far too long and experienced too much grief to not voice his opinion—especially now that hope knocked on their doorsteps.

“Your fears are well-founded. But loitering here will only bring us death. Since fighting is inevitable, we must choose the time and location. A rushed invasion is exactly what we need,” Kilian replied, startling the elder sura. Indeed, even if they chose to stay hidden in their glade, when the news of their recovery reached the Sura Queen’s ears, invading armies would follow. But by then, they would no longer have the leisure to recruit anyone.

Ashamed, the elder sura bowed and said: “King Hadir’s Demagoria will be ready within 16 hours and go on till the next morning.”

Satisfied, Kilian nodded. “Have 50 suras set up a Mutual Reinforcement Circle across this glade. I will take care of the rest,” he said and waved his hand, summoning his six aistis. Seeing seven peacock-harpy hybrids appear out of thin air, the 400 suras recoiled, but when they recalled that those had been summoned by their savior—despite the obvious fehl connotation—the majority softened. Their reactions satisfied Kilian. Though he now controlled their lives and souls, Kilian didn’t wish for the suras to turn into puppets driven only by his Mark of Greed.

The future isn’t set in stone. Although he could control them through the Mark now, if their obedience toward him didn’t stem from their heart—at the first given opportunity—they’d turn coats. Just like Kilian now sought to break free from Ashera. In a sense, this was Kilian testing Klaus’ Four Why: “Know why you trust them, why they answer your call, why they back you and put their lives at your service. Only then can you make the correct choice on whom to trust.”

Although he’d grown beyond Klaus’ bounds, that wouldn’t stop him from using some of his tools.

“You can call those six aistis. They will help you set up the formation, learn from you, and assist in the demagoria’s preparations. In the meantime, I will summon and bind Fehl Legions to assist us in the upcoming wars,” Kilian said, and with a last bow, the 400 dispersed.

“It’s well-known that to fight Fehl Legions, you need either Throne Choirs or Fehl Legions of your own. However, the Fehl Suras aren’t true fehls. As for the Blood King, he only has one Legion. How many are you planning to summon?” Eleonora asked. With the numbers they faced, summoning backup was inevitable. Yet, the plural in Kilian’s words didn’t escape her attentive ears.

With a smirk, Kilian balled up his right fist and raised it toward the Sura Plane’s sky. Alongside Inyoka, he stepped out of the glade, slipping out of Eleonora’s sight in one breath.

Intrigued, she walked after them, arriving soon enough to see Kilian drawing Ritual Circles on the ground. Four hexagrams set in the cardinal directions, with one triangle between each pair, now decorated a radius of ten meters. At the center, a cylindrical figure took shape, with Kilian standing before it—eyes gleaming in a fiendish, dark-green sheen. Slashing open his right hand, Kilian let his blood soak the cylindrical shape, which flashed emerald with every drop.

Heavy, green fog billowed from the Ritual Circles, soaring alongside similarly colored flames as Kilian’s lips curved into a wolfish grin. His hands then flashed in arcane gestures.

“Fifth Circle Spell: True Name Invocation—Decarabia,” Kilian whispered, and a stream of jet-black fluid poured alongside fog and flames to condense into a ten meters tall mass of thick black goo. Over 100 eyes opened across the black goo giant’s surface as its form settled in a floating goo pyramid. Immediately, dozens of bloodshot eyes pierced Kilian, but ignoring them, he pursued:

“Al’Duron, Valgonor, Xol’Turi, Surgumach.”

With each name, Kilian’s Philosopher’s lost 100,000 dra, an inconceivable amount for a human Exarchs’ Fifth Circle Spell. But as she watched the five fehl forms take shape, Eleonora could foresee the cost.

“Five Fehl Lords. He’s summoning five Fehl Lords to in turn have them summon their legions. But how?” Eleonora wondered.

A four meters long, winged tiger covered by the resplendent scales of a hessonite serpent instead of the typical feline fur. A head-sized eyeball with eight hands stretching out of its form. A voluptuous succubus and a tall arachnid female with undulating white hair, and two pairs of slanted eyes, took shape beside the 100-eyed mass of black goo.

Eleonora was correct. Kilian bridged the gap of planes to summon five Fehl Lords, but as she wondered how he planned to keep such a lineup under control, Kilian snapped his fingers, summoning one of the four relics that marked him as the Grand Herald of the Dark Eden Society: the Slammer of Legions.

With the dissonance of 100 fehl heartbeats, the palm-sized sangria shard unleashed 30 chains, six per Fehl Lord, and bound them all in its irresistible grasp.

“Insolent mortal! How dare you?” The scaled tiger roared at Kilian, speaking for his four companions of misfortunes who’d not expected such a disrespectful summon—from a human, no less. The Grimoire of Adramelech not only contained spells and Arcanas, but the True Names of dozens of Fehl Lords—among others.

By relying on them and the right ritual, Kilian could summon those Fehl Lords. However, the spell didn’t ensure their obedience. For that, he needed the Slammer. With an amiable smile, Kilian bowed toward the five and replied:

“You have my most insincere apologies, but for the sake of this world, I have to draft you all into my army. Please understand my difficulties.” The five didn’t have the time to digest the brazen words that Kilian raised the Slammer of Legions and siphoned them all into it.

Unable to resist the combination between the Slammer and the ritual invocation, they vanished in the sangria shard—becoming Kilian’s servants. With them, even before Urag’s return, he could welcome all invasions with a horde of over 30,000 daemons.

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There was a mistake in the stat screen yesterday, fixed. I didn't manage to write the extra chapter I wanted to. If I can't do it during the week, I will do it during the weekend.