The Duke's Palace

I swallowed nervously. I was standing outside the front gates of the Duke’s Palace, and still debating what I was about to do. There were no guards, there was no need. According to the locals there was a single woman protecting the throne from anyone who might be foolish enough to try and sit in it. Dystopia had no ruler thanks to her; she would cut down anyone who tried.

Still, according to my research on the topic, the woman was not immediately hostile, only wary. If the people I’d met on the way here were to be believed, one could still hold a conversation with her as long as you didn’t get aggressive. I was interested in knowing why she did what she did. After all, people don’t just decide to protect an empty throne on a whim, especially not without sitting in it themselves.

So, I took a deep breath, steeled my resolve, opened a wicket door in the main gateway entrance, and stepped through. I found myself walking in a grand yet ill-maintained hall, the only light coming from lanterns that must have some sort of permanent light magic cast upon them, for I couldn’t imagine the demon in front of the throne was maintaining them.

Luckily, figuring out where the throne room was didn’t take long, just inside the main entrance hall was a set of double doors that led directly into the throne room. Nice and easy, it seemed. Sure enough, at the end of the long, pillar-lined dusty hall was a single granite throne beset with countless glittering rubies.

Standing in front of this exalted seat was a woman clad in a full suit of shadesteel armor. Her gauntleted hands were resting diligently on the crosspiece of an immaculately-crafted flamberge with its tip resting against the stone beneath her. Her platinum-blonde hair was pulled into an extremely long braid that extended down from the back of her helmet and reached her dark greaves. A pair of bright red eyes glared darkly at me through the visor of said helmet as I approached, sending a chill down my spine. She was probably an omen, and that surprised me. Given her reputation, I had imagined a demon far more monstrous or threatening—though she was certainly imposing in her own right.

“If you value your life, you shall step no further,” she said, her voice echoing through the empty hall.

I stopped; I was still about twenty feet away from her. “Hello there,” I said. In spite of the fear threatening to consume me, I waved amiably. Here was a woman who was said to have cut down armies and archdemons alike in their attempts to take Dystopia’s throne. If this conversation came to blows, I would stand absolutely no chance.

“I can sense your fear,” she replied, “I do not intend to kill you unless you make any unnecessary movements. State your business.”

I took another deep breath. It was just as she said, I had no intention of challenging her, so I had nothing to fear. “My name is Silus Serpentis and I’m just here to chat. I imagine you’ve heard that a lot from people who are just trying to lull you into a false sense of security, but it’s the truth. I’m relatively new to this layer, and I’ve heard the people talk about you. I got curious, that’s all.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Tell me, are you disguising yourself? Or are you truly a human?”

Ah, right, this whole song and dance again. “I am, as far as I know. I have no memories from before I woke up here. If I am disguised then I’ve even fooled myself.”

“Intriguing. My name is Zalia, I was once a member of the Azruken, a knight’s order in service to Duke Azrudescan. Regrettably, I was not present to defend him when he was assassinated, so now that he is gone and the Azruken have disbanded, I attempt to restore my sullied honor by guarding this throne.”

“How will that help?” I asked.

“His Excellency was a great ruler. He was the greatest Duke that this layer—nay, Abyssia had ever seen. If anyone less than he were to sit upon the Ruby Throne and call themselves Duke of Dystopia, it would bring great shame to his legacy. I could not protect my liege when he needed me most, so the least I can do is secure the future of his kingdom.”

I tapped my chin, “Do you not think that it’s more harmful for this layer to not have a ruler at all?”

“I will be blunt,” Zalia shook her head, “if there is not even one demon beyond yonder doors who is worthy of this throne, I feel no pity for them.”

“And who would you consider worthy?” I asked.

She narrowed her eyes, “You are not the first to ask that question, and you will not be last; yet it is a question that will remain unanswered.”

“You don’t know?”

“I do, but if you know, then you can try and deceive me. I am not infallible, and I know my weaknesses.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Moreover, it would be a meaningless gesture. If you had those qualities, they would be self-evident, and I would see them in you.”

“And then I’d be able to best you in combat?”

She shook her head, “I will tell you this much: do not make the mistake of believing that one of the qualities I seek is strength or combat prowess. I will not yield to those who try to overpower me, and many countless fools have tried and failed. I only tell you this because I have no taste for needless bloodshed; however, I am a woman of honor and conviction, and my blade will not hesitate if you try to test my mettle.”

I stroked my chin thoughtfully, “I see. And what if someone were to defeat you?”

Zalia was quiet a moment, clearly thoughtful. “Please understand that I do not do this because I want to. Every time I hear the chime of the clock tower, my hope for the future of Dystopia wanes more and more.” She slacked a bit and briefly hung her head low. “I am… tired. My body aches for sleep. My lips yearn to taste the delicious meals that were once cooked within these halls. My eyes want to see the green fields of Dystopia again. Yet I am stuck here, in this dusty empty prison.”

I stood listening to her, and I felt my heart beat in sympathy.

“If I stepped away—allowed myself to reenter society—I might be able to enjoy the delicacies of the kingdom once again; but they would be soured by the darkness my liege fought against in the first place. No, I know there is someone out there who deserves to sit upon this throne, and I must remain here so that they can one day claim it. That is my charge.

“But if instead this seat of honor was wrested from me by some brutish knave who cared not for the future of demonkind, and instead only for their own self-satisfaction, I would die in sorrow, dishonor, and shame.” She straightened once again, her armor clacking against itself as she did. “I will not allow that to happen.”

“I see, and while I don’t completely agree with you,” I began, “I think I still value your perspective. My own perspective, that of being someone who sees the pain of the people on a daily basis, may be rendering my thinking too short-sighted. There is some comfort knowing that someone with such strong conviction is protecting this layer from tyranny.”

The helmeted head tilted slightly to the side. “Tell me, wanderer, what drives your honor? What do you desire?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think I know yet. I’ve just been too concerned with trying to find out why I’m here and trying to find my place among demons. I haven’t had the opportunity to find my way just yet.”

Zalia seemed to quietly contemplate this reply. “I see. Then, if you have no further business with me, I would ask that you leave this castle now, wanderer. I must remain focused and vigilant.”

“As you wish,” I shrugged. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with me.”

Zalia waved a hand dismissively, then her bright red pupils from behind the visor locked with my own eyes. “If the day should come that you find your path, an ambition worth fighting for, I would ask that you return to me—but not a day sooner.”

This was an odd request, but she seemed to feel like it was important, so I nodded in agreement. Afterward, she would say no more, and I decided to leave back into the troubled streets of Cantis.