She had little time to think about what had just happened, the hairs on her body rising at attention when she sensed the hitch in the air, the telltale sign of something great and powerful approaching. Amithaera recognized the scent of sulfur and the overbearing cologne trying to mask it, sitting up straight as she located the entry point.

  At the bottom step of her throne, flames in the shape of a circle began to emanate, fueled by nothing other than magic atop cracked marble. Its center turned a glassy scarlet, swirling clouds and the crackling of yellow lightning visible within before the large pointed gold horns of a creature began to rise from the portal.

  Amithaera tightened her jaw, prepared for the worst. She had always deigned herself a monster of unending malice and darkness, but the beast that was beginning to show itself, in its grandly-designed crackling brimstone robe, was something worse.

  Rings of power and gold, dozens upon its lanky blackened digits, glittered with the flames that spun below its form. Bangles and thick chains of the same material hung down its wrists and chest, pinched as earrings and studs in its cartilage, plating its spiraling horns and nestled as shiny teeth in its mouth. A crooked hunch rose from its back, neck craned down by the amount of shiny decorations on its head alone.

  Even its face appeared bolted on, dark red skin stretched taut over a skull too pointed and large to accommodate whoever's cursed mortal flesh the demon once was.

  In the distance, most of the creatures in Amithaera's command hid in fear. Veratreez was the only one to simply stay completely still, knowing its vision was based on motion. The Necromancer wished she could hide all the same, but only she was capable of facing down one of the most feared beings to ever claw its way out of a Tarrasque's steaming guts;

  Lord Autheran, the Landlord.

  Her landlord, to be exact, dropping by a month too early. That could only mean something terrible.

  “Lord Autheran, to what do I owe this precocious but pleasant visit?” Amithaera asked aloud, the jingle of gold ringing out as the demon's head snapped in her direction, swirling green irises locking onto her person. The woman tensed.

  Its voice was smoky and low, actual vulgar black puffs leaving its mouth with every word, “Tenant… Thy official notice hast arrived; thy annual charter hath waxed.”

  “Waned?”

  “No. Waxed.”

  Damn. She despised this silly demon verbiage. Why couldn't they just learn Elvish like the other Gods?

  “By how much?” She asked, already annoyed.

  Lord Autheran froze, quite a frightening sight considering he was already a disconcerting thing to look upon. Veratreez removed a small parchment note from her belt and handed it to a skeleton, whispering for the minion to rush over and deliver it to their mistress. The boneman did just so, clacking on the floor as it hurried around a pillar to give the demon a wide berth, reaching Amithaera and giving her Veratreez's little goblin note.

  564.

  That's all that was in her account. The rent was already five-hundred gold and due in a month. Now Lord Autheran wanted to increase it?

  The demon opened its mouth, black smoke pouring down into its open hand, summoning forth several finely-rolled sheafs, one which was taken and unrolled. His eyes pored over the contents, then finally spoke, “For thine lathe westward of Zarazeen; twofold.”

  Damn again.

  Wait, Zarazeen?

  “Thy new annual charter hence is to be five-hundred golden coins, to commence our coming month.”

  He'd gotten the wrong contract. Zarazeen wasn't even on this continent.

  Amithaera was relieved. This was a boon she could take advantage of, being read the wrong notice. Demons were all about the words they use, to the letter. She could easily pay up the five-hundred pieces of gold before the landlord noticed an-

  “This isn't Zarazeen. This is the Darklands, yes?” The skeleton chattered, looking to the Necromancer, trying to be helpful. There might’ve been the spark of realization in those empty sockets.

  Amithaera scowled at the minion, and with a flick of her hand, turned him into an inanimate pile of his bones. The damage, however, was too late as Lord Autheran grumbled and retrieved a circular piece of looking glass with a third arm that stirred from within the robe.

  “Thou art… Lady Glynquall, yes?”

  With a pout at the surname of those damned elven upstarts, Amithaera shook her head, correcting him, “No. I am Lady Amithaera Mentauri.”

  Lord Autheran chuckled darkly as he effortlessly rolled up the incorrect contract with golden twine and opened up the right one. This time, he corrected her, “Not a Lady, Elf Mentauri. The moon god's blōd runneth much too meagerly in thy veins.”

  Amithaera huffed, glaring at the demon now as he raised a hand and resurrected the skeleton she'd just undone. The minion looked around in confusion and stopped when he saw his annoyed mistress looking at him.

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  He fell to his knees, clacking as he begged, “Mistress! I'm so very sorry for failing you!”

  Lord Autheran spoke, “My thanks for thy assistance, ghoul.”

  “Oh, my pleasure, ser!” The skeleton turned and replied cheerily, suddenly collapsing back into the same pile as before. Even Amithaera thought that might’ve been needlessly cruel.

  “Elf Amithaera Mentauri, for thine march in the Darklands; threefold.”

  “Damn!” Veratreez yipped in the distance, shocked at her outburst and covering her mouth hurriedly.

  Standing to her feet, Amithaera objected immediately and raised her voice, “Threefold?! That is outrageous! It's a tower, not an entire fief!”

  At her elevated posture, the landlord's head turned slightly to examine her intent. The inky digits on his right hand began to glow with a light that did the opposite of illuminating its surroundings, not unlike Amithaera's own void magic, but to think herself on par with this being was a short path to a quick humbling.

  “Thy careless refusal to adequately reacquaint thyself with the property's recent growth is thine fault, and thine fault alone.”

  Amithaera shot Veratreez a look, for the goblin was responsible for these matters. The little lieutenant shook her head quickly and appeared genuinely surprised by the development, her tiny boots squeaking on the marble as she approached the demon lord.

  “P- Pardon me, m'lord…”

  Lord Autheran's head snapped to face the goblin below him, frightening Veratreez, “Spawn of Gro'Sha. Speak.”

  Her mouth sheepishly grinning, brow raised at an anxious height, Veratreez asked, “W- We did not receive a notice of that. I should know, I- I check the post monthly. May I see the contract..?”

  Presenting the parchment to her, Lord Autheran kept his eyes affixed on the little goblin. Her mouth moved silently as she read through it, eyes wide at first before narrowing into a confused look.

  Amithaera sat back down on her throne, hating how powerless she felt with Lord Autheran in the room. Her eyes fell on the Warrior's body in the distance.

  Orson.

  “Was this… transcribed recently? That is not my sig- um, not my lady's signature, and that is most certainly not the village post we use,” Veratreez asked, turning the parchment round to show it to Lord Autheran.

  The demon sighed, more black smoke pouring from his mouth. Veratreez frantically waved the burning fog away from her face.

  “It was, indeed. Mine assistant pored through these contracts a fortnight. Doth thou mean to say he made a mistake?”

  With a quick nod, Veratreez answered, “Yes. We collect our post in Krainport, not Krainville.”

  There were scarcely worse things than a demon's real laughter. It provided a glimpse into the Sulfur Lord's hellish realm to all that could hear it, and though it didn't frighten Amithaera, she could see how harshly it weighed on Veratreez's constitution. The green on her skin went nearly pale, eyes widening with shock, trembling in her boots.

  Lord Autheran's head snapped toward Amithaera, gold teeth flashing in a smile as his hand took the contract from Veratreez's tense hands.

  “Elf Mentauri. Thy minion is an astute delight. Should she fall in battle, consider allowing me to raise her as mine own assistant. Thy reward will be substantial,” the demon crowed, his hand patting the frozen goblin's head.

  Amithaera rolled her eyes. No amount of coin would ever convince her to give Veratreez's body over to another, “You'll find no number to be enough for such a request.”

  Veratreez smiled softly at her lady's assured stance.

  “Twenty-thousand.”

  Amithaera nearly choked on her own saliva, sitting up and coughing into her hand, looking only at the demon. Veratreez sighed out sadly.

  The Necromancer patted her own chest, recovering from the coughing fit, and spoke, “Right, but… now that you understand that we were not sufficiently warned of the increase…”

  Lord Autheran nodded, “Thou are granted an additional month. Fifteen hundred, two months from this date.”

  Still bad, but not as bad as before, “And the increase? How far does the territory go now?”

  “Whence I banish mine assistant, I will personally send the correct notice. Within, thou will find enclosed the new territorial border… I recommend using it all to its fullest.”

  Amithaera smacked her lips and nodded at the demon. There wasn't anything else to say to the monster. The bad news had been enough.

  “Alright. Thank, uh… Thank thee verily much, Lord Autheran. We'll do what needst be done… thouest,” she murmured, pouting and leaning back on her throne.

  The demon chuckled once. Those claws he called fingernails clicked against one another, letting out a long sigh, “If thou needst coin, consider thy old master Soulsword’s charity. The man resides i-”

  Amithaera’s face was pale by the time Veratreez interrupted the demon. The little goblin had come to the rescue once more, “THANK YOU, Lord Autheran! Thank you very much for the leeway. We shall make good use of the time awarded to us. Expect your tithe within the next month, m’lord…”

  Lord Autheran looked down at Veratreez once more, and he smiled whatever smile he could muster without proper lips, “See to it that thoust do…”

  Without another word, the demon disintegrated into ashes and left behind his tenants. Veratreez covered her nose and mouth beneath her tunic at the sulfuric smell, asking sadly, “... Mistress?”

  The Necromancer’s expression had been soured, even more so than before. Just the thought of that… that bastard was enough to ruin any moment in her life. She shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath, opening them again to look at Veratreez. The many minions behind the goblin had come out to approach the throne, standing at the ready for their mistress.

  “What are we going to do, m'lady..?”

  Lots to do. Amithaera needed a moment to think. For now, there was only one thing that would help lighten her mood.

  “Get the brooms.”