Sammelsorium [ENGLISCH]   von Kushiel
                     (Kurzgeschichten zu mehreren prompts)
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                    Kapitel 1: Confessions of a Demon Lord
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Being a demon, people in general think of me as cruel, soulless and bent on
utter destruction. I might be the first and somewhat of the last, but definitely
not the second thing. Who am I you ask… Let’s not dwell on this matter shall
we? I am way too high in the hierarchy to ever mention my name, although some
who know me well and find these lines, might guess who I am.  For the remainder
of this… let’s call it a letter, I shall be known as Zaarel.
To be fair, this will be more like a dairy, someone I can truly confide in. 
Demons in my position have no one to talk to, as we are just few and there are
always those that lust after our power.  Weakness is a sin we cannot allow
ourselves to indulge in.
 
Why then, am I writing this? Most likely you, the person reading this will be a
human or perhaps one of those blasted tree-loving elves that can be downright
annoying. As far as I have understood it, it is custom in your cultures to
collect pictures and other things for personal importance in a small book, to
keep them as a token for remembrance. I do not have exactly such a book, but a
box, filled with many a small item that once held some meaning for me. Some
still do, others are there only for nostalgias sake.
By now you are probably curious or bored. Not that I care much about that,
however I don’t want to bore myself with writing this, so I will talk a bit
about the tokens in my little treasure box I guess. The first would be a
fragment of metal, which once had been a very fine blade, well fine enough for a
child at least.  I had been gifted said blade as a present when I turned ten I
guess. I cannot exactly remember when it was anymore, only that it marked the
beginning of my second child hood. Before that, I was only allowed to read about
hunts and battles and maybe practice with wooden daggers. Now I myself could
partake in hunts and small skirmishes, nothing to serious, since even demons
treasure their children, but still, I was glad that day that I didn’t belong
to the defenseless anymore.  Oh the glory as I finally for the first time was
able to experience what before had only been stories. However for all the
blood-lust and joy of victory I realized another thing: War is not pretty. True,
I’m a demon, I enjoy a slaughter here and there, but still I have my morals. I
hate to kill just for the fun of it, for then I’d be scarcely more than a
savage.  Now don’t get any hopes up, there are demons like that but usually
they rarely rank higher than a commander of a small devision.  As I said, this
blade introduced me to bloodshed – and also to fate. Why? Well that might be
another story but I will say as much: It was this small sword I wielded against
the one man that changed my life.

This leads me to the second item I want to tell about; again not very
impressive. It’s a small ring, fit for the small finger of my left hand. Save
for an array of three demonic runes the golden surface is pure and smooth. As I
had fought with my little sword – and lost I was taken captive. For one or two
years I had no idea where I was only that I was being treated as fitting for
someone of noble birth. I even could continue my education. I had an inkling
that this was no coincidence and after some time I was taken to a audience hall.
I had seen such a room before when my father had first taken me to the Demon
Lord he served so that I might be registered in the scrolls. Demons are fond of
keeping track of nobility and possessions as these are the two only things every
being written down in such detail.  However this was not the hall I knew,
something was different, I could not tell the person that the crest on the
banners belong to nor tell why I was here when the person I had fought was
supposedly a minor lordling and not one of the rulers of hell.  As soon as I
looked upon the man sitting on the throne I paled. Now, being around sixteen
years I had attended some feasts or audiences in the hall of the Demon Lord I
was subject to, but this face that now looked at me with cold red eyes was one I
only had seen in pictures.
This was Bael, the one Demon Lord who reigned above all others. ‘Your tutors
tell me, you are a fast learning child.’ Even his voice could be cold and I
stood paralyzed before him, taking shallowed breaths under his unyielding gaze
until I understood he expected me to answer. With trouble I got some words out.
‘I.. I try my best Milord.’ ‘Good.’ His tone was still chilly but he
seemed to be content with my answer as well as me not pissing my pants or
anything in that sort of fashion while standing before him. Don’t you laugh,
things like this really happened as I came to witness later. For now I was only
told that my old life was over.

‘Your father has been quite helpful to our cause. Therefore you will now be
fostered here and enter your career at court like every demon of noble birth
should.’ 

This sentence was all I ever got to inform me I was not my father’s son
anymore. I never saw my family again, instead I learned and did what Bael wanted
me to do. The ring was proof that I was under his protection – but it also
meant I was no more than his tool. This event and my realization that I now had
no family to rely on, was one of the biggest changes in my life as it led
eventually to me being what I am now. Without Bael taking me hostage and shaping
my young person according to his wishes and later leaving me to the whims of
Belial, another Demon Lord, I never would have had the power I have now, for I
never would have been in the circle of those being considered for the job.

Now I am chained to my office, for a demon that has power never resigns. There
is only one way out: death. And I still love my life too much.

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