Gary was having an extremely slow day.

His bar was distressingly quiet, full of creaks and echoes. Every glass and dish was pristine, having been scrubbed a thousand times. A sea of empty tables and chairs stretched wall-to-wall.

Where were all his customers?

Preparing for war, as it would turn out. The whole castle, and much of the Realm beyond, was in a fervor; everyone had something to do, from sharpening blades to waxing boots to assembling armies. The fervor left very little time for inebriation, and Gary’s profits plummeted. He’d barely seen a quantex all month.

“War is always bad for business,” the sentient hydrogen mini-world muttered to himself, fretfully weaving his cloud bands in fractal storm patterns. “Maybe I should go on holiday until it blows over. A few hundred years should be fine… Think they’ll be done fighting by then?”

The silence that responded offered little insight on the matter.

“Or perhaps I could set up a mobile bar and travel with the troops. That might offer some excitement!” Gary offered.

Once again, nothing.

“That’s it!” the bored Gary bellowed, causing spacetime to flex just a bit. “If I don’t get a customer in the next minute, I’m going home!” He turned to glare at the door with furious intensity.

Thirty-six seconds later, a fuzzy mop of brown hair poked its way across the threshold, followed by goggles, then eyes. They blinked once, staring at Gary with wide amazement.

“Huh,” Gary said in equal amazement as he studied the curious stranger. “Hello there. I wasn’t expecting to see another human here, of all places.” Was she supposed to be running around loose? Gary was sure he’d have heard something if she wasn’t…

The human stepped into the bar, her eyes still fixed on the demon. “What’s THIS room for?”

“This is my bar, the Iron Maiden,” Gary said in his most welcoming coo, which caused the human to wince in appreciation. “Usually it’s more crowded, but we’re having a slow couple of weeks. Would you care for a drink?”

“Drink?” the human repeated, her face lighting up with qualified excitement. “As in alcohol?”

“And a wide variety of other inebriants,” Gary said eagerly, spinning up energy in anticipation of a customer. “Whatever your pleasure might be. And yes, many of my beverages are safe for human consumption.”

“Many,” the human girl repeated back drily as she swept her eyes around the room, taking in the torture-chamber decorations. “Not all?”

“The Demon Lord drinks lava,” Gary replied, catching the humor edging into her tone. “You’re welcome to try some, but I’ll need to have a resurrection mage on hand.”

That joke caused her to laugh, a noise which Gary thought sounded like all the human’s organs being squashed messily through her nose. He matched the repulsively moist bio-sound with his own melodious screech-guffaws, more to drown them out than anything.

“Very well,” the human said, wiping her eyes. “You have sold me. I shall try some of your wares, mysterious orb.”

“The name’s Gary,” the hydrogen sphere demon replied happily as he tele-calculated the trajectory of a clean glass to the counter.

“I’m Vynn,” said the human as she began to sniff a barstool curiously.

“Nice to meet you, Vynn. Why don’t you pull up a chair and tell me your troubles?”

******

“The ENTIRE city guard was after YOU?!” Gary asked in genuine shock as he poured Vynn another round of absinthe.

“You’re damn right!” an animated Vynn responded, exaggeratedly plunging her fist into the counter. “All because I took one twerp to task! It’s not fair!”

Gary slowed rotation in genuine confusion. “Does this often happen in human society?”

The question startled Vynn, largely because of unexpected perspective. “Human society…” she repeated blankly, her eyes chasing unseen phantasmagoria as her mind whirled at grand implications.

“I’ve only heard stories from Nyze,” Gary elucidated, drawing the blinkered human sharply back to conversation. “I’m told female humans are often subjected to such humiliation and degradation as a matter of course. I have a hard time imagining it myself.”

Vynn stared holes into her drink glass. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you have a hard time imagining it?” Her voice grew hard.

“It seems wasteful,” Gary responded. “Hatred without direction. What logical purpose is there in elevating one gender over another? Excluding half the population from soldiery and labor weakens a nation, sacrifices strength for dogma. It’s absurd and foolish.”

There was a moment of quiet after that as Vynn mulled over the demon’s answer, tension unspooling from her spine. Then, languidly, she took a sip of absinthe.

“That’s the same response I’ve gotten from every demon I’ve asked,” Vynn said, feeling a bit more at ease. “It’s… shocking. Why, earlier today, I saw a WOMAN ordering MEN around! Male soldiers, no less! I’ve never seen that before in my life!”

“The Demon Lord, you mean?” Gary asked teasingly.

Vynn rolled her eyes. “Not her. Some kind of... half-horse woman. Very muscular. Looked like she probably eats nails for breakfast.”

Gary calculated recognition with an auroral snap. “Ah, you mean Yerpe, captain of the Demon Lord’s personal guard. She’s a centaur.”

Vynn shook her head and took another gulp of liquor. “Y’all have centaurs AND respect women? This is gonna take some getting used to. More… green liquid, please.” She slid her empty glass Gary’s way.

Gary obligingly uncorked the absinthe bottle. “How did you come to be in our fair Realm anyway?” he asked as he poured.

“Ah, it’s my wife’s fault,” Vynn said as an unguarded expression of melting affection briefly crossed her face. “She was on a secret mission here and accidentally got herself killed and turned into a demon. We’re both just kind of rolling with it at this point.”

The sound of pouring stopped, and Gary turned and floated towards Vynn. The glass floated alongside, held by telekinesis… but its trajectory was strangely shaky, as if Gary himself were nervous.

Vynn watched as the trembling glass alighted on the bar before her, spilling a few drops. Then, Gary spoke in a detached, somewhat tinny voice.

“Your wife is Valex?”

Vynn nodded, eyebrows raised, wondering if she should raise her hackles again too.

“I must apologize, then. Is an apology appropriate? I’m told you humans take death somewhat seriously,” Gary said as he fretfully wobbled on his axis. “You see, I am the one who killed her.”

“Huh.” Vynn blinked, then gripped her drink and downed it in one gulp. “I’ll internalize that later. This whole thing just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Another drink please, death orb.”

Gary was more than happy to oblige.

******

 “So THIS is where the bar is!” Tess shouted triumphantly as she strode into Gary’s bar. The demon turned to face her (near as she could figure), alongside a flush-faced Vynn who grinned widely and waved.

“HI HUMAN WOMAN! COME JOIN ME AND THE DEATH ORB!”

“Oh dear,” Tess said as she regarded the swaying mechanic girl. “Already three sheets to the wind?”

“Hey, I’ve had a LONG week,” Vynn grumbled back bitterly. “I had the whole city guard trying to kill me and was rescued by a giant snake! A GIANT SNAKE!”

“So I heard,” Tess replied with an adroit smirk before turning her focus to the orb-demon. “And your name is… Death Orb?”

“I’m Gary,” the demon replied, unmistakably annoyed at the misnomer. “She’s just calling me “Death Orb” because I killed her wife.”

“HE KILLED MY WIFE!” Vynn echoed bubbily, as if stating something completely normal. “She turned into a FOX!”

Gary indicated agreement. “Indeed. She’s had a long week. I didn’t catch your name, Miss…?”

“Tessaria,” said Tess as she smoothly perched herself on a stool next to Vynn.

“Imagine my surprise at having a second human walk into my bar in a single day,” Gary said, his delight squared. “What’ll you have?”

Tess leaned forwards with a conspiratorial grin. “A local succubus informed me I should try something called a ‘pit scraper.’”

“Looking to shine your fangs, aye?” Gary said approvingly, turning sense-fields to his bottles. “One pit scraper, coming right up. So what brings you to the Demon Realm, Tessaria? Was your spouse also killed by demons?”

“Oh no, nothing so dramatic,” Tess said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Rixu just proposed marriage to me, that’s all. And since he defected, I’m here too.”

“Oh, I remember Rixu!” Gary said warmly, recalling the electrolaser. “Good fighter. Solid technique. Quality husband material. Congratulations!”

“OH!” Vynn exclaimed, winding herself up with half-mock outrage. “So Rixu gets high praise, but my wife gets vaporized? What’s the deal, Death Orb?”

“Your wife needs to remember to pre-cast her wards, wrench-scamp” Gary shot back.

“HAH! AYE! VALID CRITICISM!” Vynn admitted, smiling once more at the thought of her clueless wife. “She does forget that. She’s such an airhead!” She sighed dreamily before planting her head cheek-down on the bar and starting to snore.

“Goodness. Are all humans this energetic?” Gary muttered as he put the finishing touches on the pit scraper and planted it in front of Tess. “There you go, Miss Tessaria!”

Tess took an apprehensive look at the tar-black drink, in which floated a single eyeball, and turned her eyes towards the now-unconscious Vynn.

“Looks like I’ve got some catching up to do,” she said, taking a sip. The beverage clung to her tongue like oil, and she felt the familiar dulling warmth of alcohol slam into her senses directly. “And call me Tess, please.”

Gary, over the Moons at having a second human client in a single day, turned his practiced bartender charm on full. “Happy to meet you, Tess. Care to tell me your troubles?”

But Tess, an experienced bar crawler, had other ideas. “Oh, I have none worth mentioning. Care to tell me about yours?”

Another surprise in a day filled with them, Gary thought impassively as he stared at the human girl before him.

******

“…So you can see why I feel like others judge me unfairly sometimes,” Gary explained, thrumming grumpily as he threw out petulant gusts of wind. “People think that just because I’m a Zenith, I’m going to snap and start trying to conquer the multiverse or something. It makes it hard to hang around celestial circles, you know?”

Tess raised her glass in salute. “Oh yeah, I getcha. It feels awful when someone judges you on the purely superficial.” She looked down at the loudly slumbering Vynn and patted her gently on the shoulder.

Gary nodded in sympathy, flashing a small lightning storm across his surface as a salute of his own. “I must say, you and Vynn have surprised me. I always thought of humans as thuggish, primitive sky-worshippers… but you both are completely different. Vynn is mischievous, vulnerable and spontaneous, whereas you are sharp, charming and confident.”

“HAH!” Tess chirped, raising her glass again. “Keep the flattery up, please. For my part, I’ve always thought demons were ravenous monsters who feasted upon their own young.”

Gary smirked, although the minor variance in his cloud-bands was lost on Tess. “Oh? And what do you think of demons now?”

“Dunno. I’m still observing,” Tess said mysteriously, leaning back in her chair. “I will say this… your bars speak well of you. No society can thrive without great bars.”

“Hear hear!” Gary exclaimed. “Well, from today on out, humans will always be welcome in the Iron Maiden. I hope to see your kind around here more!”

“Now there’s a thought,” Tess grinned mischievously, and her eyes flashed blue. “Let’s see who’s available.”

A few minutes later, a very confused Diane walked through the door. “You called?”

“Yeah!” Tess said, waving. “Get your butt into a seat, girl! We’re having a Human Night at the bar!”

Diane looked from the enthusiastic Tess to the slumbering Vynn to the hovering hydrogen-orb serving up drinks, and shrugged. The past few days had been overwhelming, and beer sounded nice right now.

“A-Alright. I’ve got a little time, and I could use a drink.”

“And you have to tell the bartender your troubles,” Tess said, pointing to Gary. “It’s tradition.”

******

“So, in summary,” Diane concluded, nursing her beer, “most humans consider me a traitor, most demons think I’m a monster, I accidentally started a war, and my only hope for salvation lies with my worst enemy.”

Gary was at a complete loss; he’d not heard such a heavy raft of misfortune since he’d last consoled the Demon Lord. “Wow. That’s rough, buddy. You… uh… want something stronger than beer?”

Diane smiled sadly and shook her head. “I’m fine with the beer, thanks.”

Tess snorted and slapped her friend on the back. “Even in a bar you act all dignified, aye? C’mon, Diane, lighten up!”

A wince was the muted Diane’s only response. “Urgh. I can’t. I’ve still got a stone in my stomach from the whole upcoming demon transformation thing.”

“Oh yeah!” Tess murmured, extending a sympathetic hand towards Diane’s shoulder. “When’s that going down anyway?”

“Tonight,” Diane said, wringing her hands. “In a few hours, in fact. So this is a nice diversion.”

“And a nice opportunity,” Gary said, trying to lift the mood. “My bar’s first official Human Night is also your last night as a human! Ironic, no?”

Diane stared ahead silently.

“S-So where’s the other human, anyway?” Gary asked, changing topics in a panic. “Rixu couldn’t make it?”

“Bah! No,” Tess said grumpily, her pout pronounced and petulant. “He always has some excuse. Right now he says he’s ‘on duty.’ For someone so lazy, he’s always working!”

“It’s too bad,” Gary replied glumly. “We very nearly had the makings of an excellent bar joke here.”

“Bar joke?” Tess mused, tilting her head.

“Yeah! Four humans walk into a bar…”

“Oh!” said Tess, snapping her fingers in recognition. “Well, there’s still potential. Three humans and an X walk into a bar, maybe? A skeleton? A giant?”

“A harpy?” Diane offered quietly.

Just then, the Demon Lord walked in.

“What’s with the human-only crowd, Gary? Is it Human Night or something?”

“Well,” Gary said, astonished, “I didn’t see that one coming.”

******

The sight of Gary mixing actual deadly lava with vodka and serving it to the Demon Lord astounded all humans present, even rousing Vynn from her slumber. As Psytalla sipped on the brimstone-scented beverage, Tess couldn’t help but pounce.

“So, Demon Lord, tradition says you have to tell the bartender your troubles. Got any to share?” the social butterfly intoned, eager to learn all she could about the blue sovereign.

Psytalla laughed long and loud. “Ahahahahahaha! My troubles are so many they could fill the ocean, and Gary’s certainly heard me whine about them enough.”

“Still, we’re interested,” Tess pushed, too curious for comfort. “As new subjects of yours, we’re eager to learn all we can. Of all your troubles, what’s the most worrisome?”

“Classified,” Psytalla responded tersely, her eyes steel. “National security secret.”

“Oh,” Tess replied, not giving up yet. “Second most worrisome?”

“Also classified.”

Tess rolled her eyes. “Fine. Third?”

Psytalla closed and took a long sip of her drink. “Thirdmost, I worry about the war. I worry that the upcoming bloodshed will widen the gulf between humans and demons to such a degree that any chance of co-existence will vanish. I worry that hatred will triumph over reason, and we demons will give in to our monstrous natures and turn what should be a campaign of liberation into a slaughter. And I worry that, even should demons fight with honor, humans will never accept us regardless and forever seek our destruction. I worry that the cost of a lasting peace might be higher than any of us is willing to pay.”

 “Wow,” Tess replied, taken aback by the sudden elucidative quality of the Demon Lord’s answer. ‘That’s, uh…”

“Uhhhhhh…” Vynn helpfully added.

Diane, meanwhile, stared straight ahead at her glass. “I worry about the same thing.”

That drew every eye and eye spot in the room; only the Demon Lord’s gaze betrayed no surprise. “I thought you might, Diane.”

Diane lifted her eyes to meet Psytalla’s. “I was used as a tool to start this war, but you’re just as trapped as I am, huh? Demonic honor demands vengeance for what I did, and you can’t stop the conflict from happening. But you worry it will become a storm beyond anyone’s control, even yours.”

Psytalla nodded grimly. Diane rose to her feet and walked over to her.

“No wonder you drink vodka,” she said as she sat on the stool beside Psytalla. “I’ll have a shot of that, please. Minus the lava.”

“What is even happening right now?” Vynn murmured flatly in Tess’ ear.

“I don’t know but be quiet and let it happen,” Tess whispered back urgently.

Diane downed the sip of vodka and snorted, turning to face Psytalla again with clear eyes. “I’ve been thinking about our last conversation for a while, considering the broader implications of the war and… I decided I want to help you.”

“Help me do what?” Psytalla asked, cocking her head.

“Keep it from becoming a bloodbath. I…” Diane looked down on her hands, “I’m not the Hero anymore. I don’t have that power or influence. But I want to help you however I can. As a figurehead, a soldier… whatever.”

Psytalla’s eyes narrowed. “Why? As penance?”

“No.” Diane shook her head and took a deep breath. “As a choice. I won’t be anyone’s tool.”

“Good answer,” Psytalla said, grinning. “Very demonic of you. Ready to seal the deal and become a demon for real?”

Diane gulped and clenched her fists. “Y-Yeah.”

The Demon Lord took Diane by the hand and lead her out of the bar, leaving a wide-eyed Vynn and Tess blinking in their wake.

Vynn was the first to speak, he voice disbelieving. “Wow. I just witnessed the Hero and Demon Lord make nice over vodka, at a bar run by a floating miniature gas planet. Hey barkeep, is the Demon Realm always this exciting?”

“Oh no,” Gary reassured her. “Today is a slow day.”