The Demon Lord was almost thrown back into the wall of his cell, if not for the chains that kept him restrained. His magic had backfired and shattered in front of him, rather painfully.

He had been maintaining his long-distance communication spell with his sister for so long. Even after the Heroes managed to track down all of his other communications, that was the last bit that he had kept concealed.

It seems like the gig was now up.

Lord Luth could hear footsteps coming from the hallway that his cell was adjacent to. Stepping up close enough for him to see was a young, gray-haired man. Judging from the feathers, Luth could identify him as a Harpy, of sorts.

“Hey! You been managing some long-range spell in here?” the Harpy guy asked. “You know you ain’t supposed to be doing that!”

The Demon Lord heard the cell door unlocking, as the Harpy stepped into the cell. The man spun the keys, which were on a keychain, around one of his fingers.

While Lord Luth could’ve lunged for those keys at that very moment, he had tried something similar a few weeks ago. Those keys were enchanted to give him a particularly nasty shock if he were to touch them. Not only that but none of those keys were designed to work on his physical restraints; they were all magic-based.

“Name’s Skarrol!” the Harpy exclaimed. “I’d offer my hand for a handshake, but you don’t really seem in the position to do so at the moment.”

Skarrol had, in his other hand, a pitcher of water and a small burlap bag slung over his shoulder.

Lord Luth stared at the Harpy for a moment, before shaking his head.

“What kind of trick is this?” the Demon Lord asked. “They sent a bird boy out to... extract information?”

“Nothing of that sort!” Skarrol exclaimed. He pocketed the keys, then held the pitcher of water out. “You wanna drink? If you’re hungry, too, I got some bread. But it’s not the good stuff, just the cheap rye that the guards allowed me to take.”

“Right, the Healer girl asked if I was thirsty earlier.”

“Well, are you?”

Lord Luth looked at Skarrol. It felt like a trick, but any avenue he could think of as to how it could be a trick came up short. He was essentially completely resistant to poisons if the water or bread was tainted like so. And, while he was certainly hungry and thirsty, that alone wasn’t enough to coerce him to say anything.

“Yes, I am,” the Demon Lord continued. “What are your demands? Considering you broke my spell earlier...”

“Nothin’ of the sort. Here, just take it. We can talk about the spell later.”

Lord Luth hesitantly took the pitcher of water and quenched his thirst with it. His parched throat felt as though it had been awash in a healing aura.

It took him less than thirty seconds to finish all the water. He lowered the pitcher from his face and wiped some water from his lip.

“Demonfolk typically prefer warm or boiled water,” Lord Luth stated. He handed the empty pitcher back to Skarrol. “Regardless, I give my thanks.”

“Can’t forget the bread, either. I bet you’re hungry.”

“Yes, please.”

Grabbing the bread and bringing it up to his mouth was a little awkward to do, especially with the chains that made movement cumbersome. Regardless, he managed to get some of the pan-shaped rye bread into his mouth, and bit down on it.

The bread was dry and probably stale. Lord Luth realized that he should’ve eaten the bread first, and then drank the water. Or, at least dipped the bread in the water, to soften it up.

What’s done was done, so he continued to crunch through the hard bread with his coal-black teeth. In the meanwhile, Skarrol seemed to be examining Lord Luth to an uncomfortable degree.

“Huh. I heard rumors, but I never actually expected Demonfolk to have black teeth,” Skarrol said.

“Our bones are black, too. Same with our horns, of course.”

“Why are they black?”

Lord Luth paused mid-chew.

“...I’m not sure,” he admitted, with bread still in his mouth. “But I know Humans don’t like the whole appearance. Black teeth, black fingernails. It scares them.”

“Well, I can see why. With humans, black teeth means their teeth are rotting and falling out. Not a good sign.”

“I’m eating right now,” Lord Luth said, his voice partially muffled by the bread.

“Oh, sorry. Now, onto the real talk here!” Skarrol exclaimed. “Who were you contacting over your long-ranged spell?”

The Demon Lord swallowed the mouthful of bread. In response to the Harpy’s question, he scoffed. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Wrong! It absolutely is for me.”

“Did the Hero ask you to do this? I’m not going to answer to him nor will I answer to you. That is your final answer, bird boy. Or... what type of bird are you again? I am suddenly curious.”

Skarrol smiled. He was one with a bit of an ego, and paid no mind to the subject of the conversation suddenly changing. Lord Luth wondered if this Harpy was the type that liked to boast about himself; he’s heard plenty of stories, but never actually met one to confirm—

“A dove, of course! Only the most elegant and graceful of birds there are!”

—And the stories were true, it seemed.

The Demon Lord knew what a dove was. They were accursed flying little pests that the Humans had brought over from their own continent. Not only did the Humans release some into the wild, but they had multiplied and now infested every corner of the Demonfolk countries.

They didn’t even taste all that good, either.

For one reason or another, he preferred the other name for them, which was ‘pigeon’. A little something he could remember from the days when he still fought on the ground was that official documents would call them ‘doves’, yet eavesdropping operations would reveal them to be called ‘pigeons’.

Lord Luth’s lips curled into a slight smile.

“I see... pigeon boy.”

Skarrol’s change of expression was quick, as though a candle’s flame had been blown out.

“Hey! Don’t you dare get started with that!”

“Get started with what, little pigeon?”

“Don’t call me a pigeon! I’m a Dove Harpy! Get it right! D-O-V-E!”

“I wonder how pigeon stew would taste.”

Skarrol’s face contorted into a scowl. “Oi! That’s a bit far, mate. Taking over the world is one thing, but offering to cook the person you’re talking to into stew is simply uncivilized!”

“I jest. Neither of those I want to do.”

“Neither? But aren’t you going to take over the world, or something like that?”

“I will not lie, while ‘taking over the world’ sounds like an enticing idea, it is simply not for someone such as me.”

“Are you sure you are the Demon Lord? You’re certainly not talking like how I’d imagine one to talk.”

“Of course, I am the Demon Lord! I have the Crown right here!”

Ever since his imprisonment, Lord Luth hadn’t worn the Crown directly on his head. It would’ve been a disgrace to do so, especially while he was still in chains. Pulling out the Crown in question from beneath him, he showed it to the Harpy.

It was a gaudy-looking crown, a black crown that was lined with gold and orange gemstones. While a typical Human crown would be symmetrical and smoothed, the Demon Lord’s crown was asymmetric, jagged, and pointed.

At best, it looked sinister. Lord Luth never liked the design of it. If he could’ve, he would’ve reforged it to look a little less frightening.

“And as you see right here, this is the Crown. Proof that I am the Demon Lord.”

“May I see it?”

Skarrol grabbed at it with one hand immediately after asking, without waiting for a response. As if anticipating that, the Crown zapped his hand the moment it made contact, and his hand quickly retreated. The Crown clattered on the floor.

“Ouch. Why didn’t you warn me?”

Lord Luth blinked. “The Crown is designed specifically to zap Harpies who get too handsy with other people’s belongings. You guys are attracted to shiny things, right?”

Lord Luth’s restraints prevented him from reaching down to pick up the Crown. But he didn’t need to. Both of them stared at the Crown as it dissolved into white sparks. The Crown manifested itself back on Lord Luth’s head.

“Hey! Only crows like shiny things,” Skarrol replied. “Anyway, what’s up with the appearance?”

Lord Luth took the Crown off his head to examine it himself.

“Ugly looking thing, isn’t it? Well, back when I did my duties, I had to wear it anyway. I don’t like how it looks either, but that’s tradition for you.”

He placed it back on his own head, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes.

“It’s a status symbol. It means I’m the Demon Lord, which is the most important part of its existence. Appearance doesn’t matter, the title that comes with it does.”

The Crown proceeded to literally evaporate into sparks while still on his head.

Skarrol stared at Luth for a good ten seconds, waiting for it to reappear like it was some trick. When it didn’t, the awkward silence had him speak up.

“Uh... Lord. Demon Lord sir, your Crown.”

Lord Luth opened his eyes. “What about my Crown?”

Skarrol pointed to the top of his own head, in an attempt to send a message to Luth.

“It’s disappeared.”

Without a word, Lord Luth felt his own head with his hand. And, indeed, the Crown was not there.

“It... what?”

“It just disappeared. In a little flash of light, like what happened when it hit the ground.”

Lord Luth felt his head again, wiping his hair as if his fingers would suddenly catch on the Crown.

“No, wait. That’s not possible, it can’t have just...”

The lack of Crown on his head contradicted with what he was saying.

“Well,” Skarrol said. “You don’t need to wear it anymore, at least.”

Lord Luth lowered his hands, and turned his gaze towards the half-Harpy.

“Did you steal my Crown, somehow? Did you?”

Lord Luth wanted to strangle the Harpy. And, evidently, Skarrol could feel the atmosphere changing accordingly. A few gray feathers rustled off his arms as Skarrol stepped out of arm’s reach away from the Demon Lord.

“Did you dare to—!”

Skarrol shook his head in denial. “Nope! Never touched it! Never would think of touching something that looks so evil! You saw how it zapped me!”

Lord Luth pulled his outstretched arms back away from Skarrol. He gave a few deep breaths and clenched his hands into fists before releasing them.

“Right, I need to think logically. The Crown shocks anyone who attempts to touch it and isn’t deemed the Demon Lord...”

“Right!” Skarrol replied. He had no idea what Lord Luth was blabbering about.

Meanwhile, the Demon Lord was trying to figure out why his Crown simply disappeared like that. It was impossible for it to just pop away, except in one specific circumstance.

A new Demon Lord could be crowned if the current Demon Lord is ever incapacitated, imprisoned, or killed. A full transfer of the Crown can be officiated by a blood relative of the Demon Lord through the Succession Spell, as long as two Generals gave their implicit permission.

From a Human’s perspective, this system would seem ripe for exploitation, and they’d be absolutely right. But Demonfolk were not Humans, despite the similarities between the two, so it worked for the Demonfolk.

However, the Succession Spell could only be enacted by a blood relative who knew of its existence. And Lord Luth had tried his best to keep the knowledge of the Crown from his sister.

Well, up until now.

“I change my mind. There’s probably another person that I’m looking to strangle at the moment,” Lord Luth said.

“Right. Uh... enjoy, I suppose?”

Skarrol vacated the premises, away from the fuming Demon Lord. The only sign he had been there were a few gray feathers that fluttered about.

Lord Luth knew one thing for sure now: Sollar had finally managed to meet up with General Forge. And General Forge’s genius idea was to tell Sollar about the Crown. Sollar, being a curious girl, wanted the Crown. Naturally.

Of course, at times it did seem like the Crown had a mind of its own.

If he ever got out of here, Lord Luth was going to wring the necks of a particular Demonfolk General.

The Demon Lord knew all of his Generals well, but General Forge was one that he had personally tutored. Forge wasn’t the type to harm a hair on Sollar’s head; he knew that if he did that, Luth would be there to personally turn the General’s horns into wall ornaments.

And, as he was aware, General Forge had been in the direction that Sollar had been heading.

Lord Luth groaned. He was going to revise the Demon Lord Crowning contract once he was out, to ensure that the Crowning required the consent of the standing Demon Lord as long as he is not dead, no exceptions. Why hadn’t that been made a clause in the first place? It seemed like an immense oversight.

His mind was also heavily preoccupied over worry about his sister.

“Pull it together, Luth. She’s strong... not smart, but there’s not much that could hurt her. And General Forge is impulsive, but not stupid. He should know what to do to protect her.”

His private musings did little to reassure him.

“Sollar, please stay safe...”