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“...No, unfortunately I don’t,” he responded. “But it was around this time. I guess we just wait. And if you disappear…”

She nodded. “...Then I disappear.”

He stared at her. “How do you deal with it?”

“With what?”

“This. All of this. I mean, you’re facing your mortality, right? You might die soon. Don’t you have unfinished business? Stuff you wish you did? And you’ve basically been imprisoned here with me for the past twenty-four hours while you’re forced to grapple with all of that. How come you aren’t freaking out?”

She looked up into the sky for a moment, but eventually, she said, “This little period of time that I’ve spent stuck in your realm…I didn’t see it as a prison. It was more of a vacation.”

He scoffed, smiling slightly. “Y’know, I always wondered why other demons haven’t felt that same way, actually. It certainly sounds a lot worse where you’re from.”

“Not like that,” she said, shaking her head. “Not the environment. It is nice to not have to worry as much about the threats of my home, but it’s…unnerving, in a certain way, being up here. Safer, yes, but less comfortable. Perhaps that is simply because I’m not as used to this place. But my feelings are more specific to me, and my life. I don’t want to die. I truly don’t. But if I am to fade away…Now would be a good time for it to happen. I would not want to return to my life, after recent events.”

“Recent events?”

She seemed to think for a moment, then subtly shook her head. “Nevermind.”

“You seem reluctant to share about your life,” Zeth said. “I’ve kind of suspected this from the beginning, but…You’re not a soldier, are you? You were lying about your circumstances when we first met. Can you at least tell me what’s really going on that’ll kill you when you return?”

She sighed. “I was lying, though not about what you think. I am being held in a prison cell right now, and I will be executed by enemy forces the moment I return. And I am a soldier.”

“Then what wasn’t true about your story?”

Once again, a moment passed where she just silently stared at the stars. It dragged on for so long, Zeth wondered if she’d ever answer his question. But eventually she said, “Perhaps it would be good to pass on my own perspective of my life’s story, if at least to a single person. I’ve long since relegated myself to living out the story that other people wrote out for me. I wonder, then, if the one I ended up writing for myself is worth anything at all.”

He looked at her, unsure what all of that meant. “I’m listening.”

For the first time since coming to the surface, Astrys looked away from the sky and glanced over at Zeth. “When I came here, I told you that I hail from the Thylmoor Kingdom. Really, I was surprised, after you learned of my name, that you did not put the obvious pieces together. But I suppose those pieces are only obvious to one who knows of the context.”

“Your name?”

“My full name is Astrys Thylmoor, first sergeant of the second army of the Thylmoor Kingdom.”

“You’re a sergeant? And, wait, you’re named after the kingdom you come from?”

“It may be more accurate to say the kingdom was named after me—even if I did come after. My father is the king.”

Zeth stared at her. “You’re a princess? I’m talking to royalty right now?”

He suddenly felt very self-conscious of the state he’d been forcing her to live in thus far, wondering what kind of a palace she must’ve been coming here from.

“Yes,” she said, “though not a very good one, considering the battle I come from. I led my soldiers to die. Perhaps I could make excuses—the enemy was more informed of the terrain, making use of a pack of void trees to the north as cover for a contingent of artillery bowmen that decimated our backrank. Our forces were slightly less numerous, and less well-equipped going in. But the leader of an army is to blame when that army is wiped out. And if the kingdom falls because of my mistakes…”

Zeth nodded. “You’ll be held accountable.”

“I won’t be held accountable,” she snapped. “I am accountable. At least if I die now, I will not have to hold this memory in my mind for long. I understand it is cowardly of me, but I’ve never deluded myself into believing I am brave. I simply wish for the torture to end. I never wanted to be a sergeant. I never wanted to fight. The more I think about it, the more I believe my executors will be doing me a favor.”

“You didn’t want to fight? Why did you, then? I would’ve thought a princess, out of anyone alive, would be able to live without having to go fight on the frontlines of a war.”

She looked over at Zeth again, this time gazing at him with an utterly baffled expression. “What in the world do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? You’re royalty. You would’ve got every bit of money and leverage you could ask for, growing up. I’m not trying to tell you your life is easy, but wouldn’t you have a lot more opportunity to choose your role in life? Go into art, or politics, or whatever it is you dreamed of?”

Astrys stared at him like she had so many things to say, she didn’t know where to start. “...I suspect our two realms may have two different systems of royalty. Why, exactly, would a princess from your world be given infinite opportunity like that?”

“Well, you’re the daughter of the king, right? Wouldn’t the king want to ensure his kids have a good life? If he has a decent number of children, say three or four, then he’d ensure they’re all educated, well-raised, and ready to inherit the throne when he dies. Otherwise, the next in line has a chance of being some random kid with no education or experience. Sounds like it’d be pretty bad if that happened.”

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At his words, she nodded slowly. “I see the origin of our misunderstanding. You said a typical number of children a king may have would be three or four?”

“Yeah.”

“I am four hundred and ninth in line for the throne of the Thylmoor Kingdom.”

Zeth blinked. “What, like, lineage gets passed to older cousins first, or something?”

“No. I have several hundred siblings. The vast majority of us have different mothers—but our father is the same king.”

“...Ah. So he does a lot of sleeping around then, I guess.”

“That is simply the way a king is expected to act. One might say that, compared to your realm’s approach, we follow a more ‘quantity over quality’ philosophy. The king has children with whatever women he feels may birth worthy offspring, and every one of them is eligible to take the throne.”

“Why would you do things like that, though? If the oldest kid gets the throne, what’s the point of having your hundredth? They’ll never get a chance.”

“That would be another difference between our systems, it seems. Our decision of who takes the throne is not based on seniority. The king keeps a list ranking every single one of his children. In the event of his death, number one takes it. If they die before they have children, it goes to number two, and so on.”

“Ah. So you’re not the four hundred and ninth birthed—you’re the four hundred and ninth on this…list of favorites?”

She nodded. “Technically, nobody is meant to know the order of this list until the king dies, but…Well, I would imagine your realm has the same politicking royals that mine does. Word gets around. Though, one of your assumptions was incorrect: I am both in four hundred and ninth place, and four hundred and ninth born.”

“Oh. That’s a weird coincidence.”

“Hardly. I have four hundred and eight siblings.”

“...Oh. So, you’re the youngest, and you’re dead last, is what you mean.”

Astrys’s face was somber. “Precisely. I was never good at these political games. My youngest sibling is still several years older than me; most of our father’s children were sired within the span of just a few years, as he was attempting to grow a batch of possible successors while touring across the land, looking for anyone exceptional to raise an exceptional child.”

“Wait, so, the king went around, having hundreds of kids during a short time, finished that, and then years later went and had you, and just you? Why?”

“Most of my siblings’ mothers are nobles with far-reaching connections, military strategists, prolific poets, or heroic soldiers with stories of saving countless lives in battle. My father chose them so that they might pass the blood that allowed them to do their great deeds onto their children, to ensure the throne is taken by someone worthy. My mother was a high-end prostitute. I feel that her occupation speaks for itself in explaining how I came to be.”

“Ah.”

“There are a few members of ‘royalty’ like me with every generation of heirs. Most of the time, we are seen as scuff marks on the good name of whichever monarch sired us. However, my mother saw me as a blessing. A moment to finally move up in the world and take the spot in the limelight she so desperately desired. Having a princess for a daughter…Birthing a child of the king is one of the most common dreams among girls where I come from. One of the only ways anyone alive can turn into someone important. However, the truth is, that only happens if the king intentionally sires a child with you. In her case, the treatment she received left her wanting.”

“I see. Um, I’m sorry about that. But how does that lead to becoming a military sergeant against your own will?”

“Well, my mother was always a competitive person. She paid for bodily modifications to ensure she was the most attractive woman she could be for her line of work, and it paid off—clearly, considering the clientele she brought in. She was extremely ambitious. And, when the greatest competition in the kingdom suddenly had her own newborn daughter entered into it as a contestant, she wanted to win. She wanted to see the name of Astrys Thylmoor at number one of that list—number one in line for the throne. But I don’t believe she ever realized this was not a competition I could succeed in. It was a competition to win my father’s favor. And when you’re a living reminder of that time he slept with an escort while too drunk to remember birth control, you begin with quite the disadvantage.”

Astrys sighed, staring upward.

“I forgive her, now. She just wanted to see her daughter happy. But she never quite realized that, while what she wanted me to do would make her happy, it certainly wouldn’t help me. She enrolled me in the arts first, but I was never good at poetry, and my fingers are too fat for musical instruments. Writing fiction never came naturally to me, either, and I never had the imagination for painting. Then she wanted me to be the next child genius, more knowledgeable in a subject than most adults. All children of the king receive a yearly stipend to ensure they live at a minimum level of comfort, and while I was excluded from being considered a ‘real’ daughter of the Thylmoor name culturally, I was still on the king’s list, so my mother still got her money. And she educated me in all she could, hiring tutors and buying books, hoping she could find a subject I excelled in. I did fine in most, but never amazing, and in order to beat all four hundred and eight of your siblings, you truly must be exceptional. Then it was sending me off to balls, then it was teaching me to play a few sports, then it was trying to fabricate a story of me saving a group of children from dying after falling into the River of Fire. None of it worked, but I tried it all. I told myself it was just to keep her from getting mad, but perhaps I ended up truly believing that one day, somehow I could gain recognition. I could convince my father to move me up at least one place in the list. But it never happened. So, eventually…”

“...You went into the military?”

“Yes. It was my mother’s last resort. Typically, the next ruler of our kingdom comes from children who had more refined upbringings than fighting in a war, but it was around this time that the River Powers empire began attempting to invade our home, and as our situation grew more and more dire, it became more and more apparent that if anyone managed to actually defeat them and end the war, they would be lauded as a hero. She had no reason to believe I was the one for the job, but she certainly had reason to hope. So that was where I went next. I’ve spent many years fighting in battles, moving up the ranks of the military. I’ve led so many charges, the Levels I gained from slaughtering my brethren brought me more power than many lower demons receive from doing summon work like this. I hated it. I always did. But I convinced myself that perhaps eventually, if I just did enough, the royal side of my family would accept me as one of their own. I deluded myself. I deluded myself enough that when my mother died three years ago from a disease passed to her by one of her clients, I continued trying. I was too cowardly to admit I had wasted my life. And now I truly threw it away. To my siblings, I was a lesser demon trying to cheat her way into competing on their level. To my father, I was an embarrassing reminder of his mistakes. To my mother, I was a failure. Perhaps it is selfish, and weak, and cowardly of me, but all I ever wanted was for someone to just…To not want anything of me, or have any expectations. To love me just for existing.”

Zeth nodded. Silence spread through the clearing once again. After a minute passed, he asked, “What do you think you would’ve done, if you had been born to a normal father and mother?”

She chuckled. “I have no idea. But working for you, simply following orders, doing what is the equivalent of manual labor, really…It was a nice change of pace. You have consistently had low expectations for my performance. You planned for my failures. Perhaps it was because you always expected me to betray you, but still. I liked being around someone who didn’t care. So, thank you for that. For giving me a final day of rest. Hopefully my death will be just as peaceful.”

But, as the time passed, it became more and more obvious that Astrys’s final moment would not be today. Because she never disappeared. They waited and waited, but she remained laying there on the ground. Eventually, Zeth realized that she’d fallen asleep in their time spent silently waiting.

“Well,” he said to himself, sitting in the clearing, “I guess I have to get back to work, then. But at the very least, I should let you take some time off.”

So he stood up, brushing himself off, and walked over to her. He slipped his arms beneath her red-skinned body, and strained his body to lift her up into a princess carry. Demons were rather large, and she was no exception, but he was just barely able to hold her in his arms as he walked back down into his base, gently lying her in his bed as he hoped he didn’t disturb her.

And then, once that was done, he looked back over at his partially-complete Empowerment Ritual. Astrys was sticking around—that had some pretty massive implications. But those were for later. For now, Zeth wanted to finish this up and claim his next Level.

So he got to work.