"Aha, I have you now!"

Anastasia's excited cry brought Grigori out of his recollections. He peered at the chessboard. She had once again manoeuvred her pieces brilliantly. A sense of pride came over him. He was glad she had not forgotten their lessons. Not even in this place.

"So you have." He smiled. "But my king is not lost yet. Yours, on the other hand..."

Grigori moved his knight. The Grand Duchess' excitement wavered as she realised she had left an opening in her defences. He had trapped her king just like she had his. Only Grigori had done it better; her king could be taken by several of his pieces, whether she moved it or left it.
Anastasia's eyes flashed over the board, but there was no way she could end the match in her favour. None of the pieces that remained could save her king. She slumped, pouting because she had lost yet another game. Grigori did his best not to chuckle at her child-like reaction.

"Perhaps, since we are both trapped, the best course of action would be to call a draw and leave the battlefield with our chins raised high."

He extended his hand to the Grand Duchess. She mulled over his offer, then sat straight in her seat and shook his hand.

"Let us have peace then," she announced regally.

"Your Highness is most gracious."

It was all he could give her. Just a single moment where she was reminded of who she truly was.
A sudden knock on the door alarmed Grigori. He quickly glanced at Anastasia, but she had already hidden the chessboard and pieces in the compartment under the table. She dropped to her knees and grabbed the rag from her pocket to polish the mahogany legs.
Grigori hated she was forced to do this, but it was necessary to keep up the pretence. He waited for her nod, then walked to the door. None other than the Impaler stood on his threshold.

"Prince Tepes, how may I assist you?" 

"Forgive the intrusion," said Tepes cordially. "I have received a summons from the Master. He requests your presence as well."

Grigori raised a brow. He looked over his shoulder at Anastasia and told her to finish her work quickly and return to her cell. He didn't enjoy leaving her alone like this, but he couldn't ignore a summons from the Master.
As he followed Tepes through the corridor, Grigori noted his surroundings seemed darker than usual. And colder, too. An eerie ambience had fallen over the palace, and he didn't care for it. Whatever the Devil had summoned him for, it did not bode well.
The doors to the Master's chambers stood wide open. This alone alarmed Grigori. He motioned for Tepes to remain behind him and carefully stepped into the chamber. They froze at the destruction that greeted them. It looked like a tempest had passed through the room. Everything was destroyed.
The Master stood at the window. Even though his back was turned to them, Grigori felt sure he knew they were there. Slowly, he and Tepes walked to the centre of the room, halting amidst the chaos. They exchanged a wary glance with each other, waiting for the Prince of Hell to speak.

"There has been a change of plan." The Master's taut voice chilled Grigori to the bone. "The time has come to strike. We will hit the Vale's first line of defence — the Nephilim."

Grigori gasped. He met Tepes's widened gaze. The Impaler appeared as shocked as he was. Surely there had to be some mistake. 

"My Lord, forgive me." Grigori stepped forward. "They pose no threat to us. Our intelligence has found that the Nephilim struggle with protecting the Mortal Realm ever since the Horsemen began their work. There is nothing they can —"

"I DO NOT CARE IF THEY ARE A THREAT OR NOT! I WANT THEM GONE!"

The Devil reeled around, and Grigori recoiled. Blood streamed from the Devil's eyes over his face and onto his shirt. The Master bristled like a rampant bull, nostrils flaring, teeth bared and clenched, and eyes burning brighter than all the fires of Hell put together. Sheer rage and savagery had brought out the monster all mortals, angels, and demons, too, feared. It was the most terrifying sight Grigori had ever beheld. Neither he nor Tepes dared move as their Prince stalked toward them.

"You, Tepes, will lead your strike team to the Sanctums, and you will kill every single Nephilim you find. Grigori will make a potion using the blood on this dagger," the blade appeared in the Master's hand, "to suppress the darkness within your team members. The Sanctums will recognise you all as angelic beings. Don't take any risks and take it as well. You may be a Fallen Angel, but you have been with us for some time. Prepare the others and stand ready to attack as soon as Grigori is finished with his task."

The Impaler bowed and left, his forest green eyes briefly meeting Grigori's. He did not fail to see Tepes' concern. If a man like him had reservations about this sudden plan of attack, it was up to Grigori to make the Master see reason. He had seen regimes fall because of rash decisions, and he was not about to let it happen here.

"Master, what has occurred?" he asked when they were alone.

"Nothing that concerns you," was the bitter reply.

The dagger was pushed into Grigori's hands. He stared at it, thinking he already knew whose blood was on the blade.

"With all due respect," he said, "you have just ordered the death of the Nephilim, who are but ants in the Lord's design. I do not see any reason to go after them when you possess both the Lord Protector of the Vale and Joan of Arc. You have more than enough to ensure Gabriël does not move against us."

"Do not forget your place, Rasputin, or you and the Romanovs will tumble from my good graces! Or did you think I was unaware of how you really treat them?"

Grigori got down to his knees. He could not let the Romanovs suffer any more than they already did. But neither could he allow the plan the Master had so carefully laid out to fall to pieces on a whim. 

"Do with me as you desire," he spoke. "I am nothing. A mere servant. But I am still your servant — the one who has faithfully stood at your side all these years. I have watched you become a most powerful being, a force to be reckoned with. I will do as you ask of me, but I must beseech you to think this through, Master. A direct attack on the Nephilim is not what we planned."

"But it's what we need!" insisted the Devil. "The Vale is already having trouble with the Horsemen and the souls they lose because of them. Attacking the Nephilim will not only cut their numbers but also devastate them. The angels have forgotten they, too, can die. We must remind them of that fact."

"And what of your plan with Joan and her baby?"

"Still in motion. Time is already moving faster in the Dream Realm. As long as I hold Joan and Michael in my grasp, Gabriël will have no choice but to surrender to me."

"Master, forgive me, but —"

"I will not discuss this any further!" snapped the Master crudely. "You have your task. See it to completion or see yourself and the Romanovs removed from existence."

Grigori knew it was futile to reason with him any further. It would only cause more harm. He had no choice but to create the potion for Tepes and the others and watch as they slaughtered the Nephilim. This was surely the beginning of the end.

***

Cesare sat reclined against the headboard of the bed and watched Kitty sleep. He couldn't believe she went against the Master's orders and stayed with him. They'd spent the entire night and day together, and Cesare oddly wanted Kitty to stay another night. He wondered why this silly girl made him feel like... well, just feel.
When he was young, he had girls like her for one night of debauchery and then he would never see them again. A few bastards were probably conceived then, but he had never bothered to find out. He had barely paid attention to his legitimate child, so why should others have concerned him?
In the first days of his marriage, he had tried to convince himself he could fall in love with his wife, Charlotte, and learn to care for their daughter, Louise. But his passion and thirst for battle had won over them. And there could only ever be one woman for Cesare Borgia. Not even the girl next to him could change that.
Cesare's musings were interrupted when Kitty stirred. She blinked a few times and found him looking down at her. A little smile crept up her lips. She drew closer, swung her arm around him, and rested her head on his chest. He decided to amuse her and allowed it.

"What is it?" Kitty asked. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm sick of being stuck here and doing nothing." Cesare didn't want to admit he had been thinking of her, so he came up with the only other thought that frequently invaded his mind.

"I wouldn't call our activities nothing."

"You know what I mean, Kitty."

"Then do something about it."

"I can't. Not until the Master releases me from this... this."

"I don't understand why you don't just go to him."

Cesare had indeed thought of doing just that, but it would have been suicide. He had seen what the Devil could do. Being 'grounded' was a light sentence compared to what had befallen the Countess.

"You may be crazy enough to do it, little Queen, but not me."

Kitty punched him with her small fist. It barely tickled. She pushed herself up at the sound of his chuckle and stared him down.

"Ridicule me all you want," she said in a piqued tone of voice. "But if you don't go to the Master and ask what you can do to regain his favour, someone else will surely strike up the glory that is rightfully yours. If you're going to give up that easily, you are not the man I believed you to be. You don't even deserve to be here. Why, you don't even deserve me, then! You might as well just crawl away in a hole somewhere and rot into eternity like all the other wretches out there."

Cesare was perplexed. That Katheryn Howard, of all people, was the one to throw such a speech at him. But she made a good point. He had never given up before. Why should he do so now?
Inspired by her words, Cesare nudged Kitty away with a firm but gentle hand and rose from the bed. He went to his closet and pulled out the basis for his armour, wanting to show the Master that he was ready without appearing too eager. Once he was dressed, Cesare walked back to Kitty. She let go of the lock of hair she'd been twirling around her finger and sat up on her knees. Cesare roughly pulled her naked body against his. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp. He bent his head, making her believe he wanted to kiss her, but then took her by her throat.

"You still don't know your place," he hissed. "Speak to me like that again, and you will suffer the consequences. Am I understood?"

"Yes."

"Yes, who?"

"Yes, my Lord Cesare."

Cesare smirked in approval. His gaze lingered on her mouth. Then he pushed his tongue between her parted lips, stripping her of her breath. She responded eagerly to his demanding kiss, and for a brief second, Cesare almost abandoned what he set out to do, wanting to ravage her again.
He forced himself to let go and strode out of his room, silently thanking the Howard girl. She had relit the fire within him. With every step he took, it burned brighter. The desire to once more stand at the head of his strike team — of his own army, even — was strong. The desire to eliminate the Nephilim and Anne Boleyn was stronger, but the desire to destroy Gabriël and the Heavens consumed him. This time, he wouldn't let anyone get in his way.

But when Cesare arrived at the Master's open door, he hesitated. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea. He would probably just make things worse for himself. Yes, he wanted to get back into action, but he wanted to remain his youthful self more. Not to mention he wasn't the only one at stake — Lucrezia was, too. 
Cesare was about to turn back but faltered when the Prince of Hell appeared on the threshold and looked him straight in the eye. He was dressed entirely in black, and his raven hair was bound back. His cheekbones appeared sharper than usual, and... were those traces of blood across his face? The murderous intent in the Devil's blood-shot onyx eyes made him think of the tales his father used to tell him to keep him on the straight and narrow. 

"Borgia? What do you want?"

No turning back now.

"A moment, my Lord. If I may."

The dark eyes narrowed, but the Master eventually stepped back, allowing Cesare to enter. Upon seeing the torn drapes, the broken furniture, and the bloodied clothes on the bed, Cesare wished he had remained in Kitty's arms. But he was here, and he had to see this through.
He willed himself to push his fear and pride aside and sank to his knees. The Master slowly stepped around him, his brow raised in amused surprise.

"Cesare Borgia, Duke Valentine and 'Prince' of Rome, on his knees before me. What a marvellous, unexpected sight. I wonder what brought this on."

"My Lord," started Cesare, "I realise I am in no position to ask for anything. My actions and poor judgment have displeased you greatly, for which I can only beg your forgiveness. Yet, I humbly request to be brought out of my confinement and be reinstated to my position."

The Master guffawed. "You dare! You endangered the entire operation with your pitiful desire for vengeance!"

"With all due respect, but is that not what the operation is? Our revenge on the angels for what they did to us?"

It was a long shot and a desperate move, but Cesare knew it was the truth. He had recognised some of the Master's actions as mimicking his own. Carefully, he dared to meet the Devil's pensive gaze, waiting for him to speak with bated breath.

"Hm... Fools rush in where angels fear to tread."

"My Lord?" Cesare cocked his head, confused at the words.

"Something a different Pope Alexander used to say. Never mind that right now. Perhaps you can be of some use." The Master circled Cesare like a predator would its prey. "I have received word of a development concerning Joan and her child. Her pregnancy is evolving more rapidly than a normal one, and measures have been taken to ensure an even speedier delivery. She currently resides in the care of an ally, but I wish to move her to a more secure location when her time comes."

"You would bring her here to the Circles?"

"Eventually. But for now, arrangements are being made at Pergamum."

Cesare shuddered at the mention of that god-forsaken place. He recalled the name from his time as a Cardinal and the many bible studies he had been forced to endure. According to legend, the ancient city of Pergamum — once a place of worship for Asclepius, the Greek snake god of healing — was where Satan had received his powers through the willing yet ignorant sacrifice of human souls. It was the Earth's darkest natural force.
Cesare had always wondered if the story was true, but if the Prince of Hell wanted the child born there, it must be. If the child was delivered in the cradle of darkness, it would never fight on the side of the angels. It would leave both mother and father no alternative but to follow into the dark side. That, or forsake their child in the name of good.

"If I were to assign you to protect dear Joan at Pergamum, what would you do?" asked the Master.

Rip the bitch to shreds.

"What you order," answered Cesare, swallowing back rising bile.

"She won't make it easy on you."

"Nor I on her. But no harm would befall her, on my honour."

The Master scoffed. "What honour? And once mother and child are with us, and it's time for Gabriël to join us? Will you let bygones be bygones?"

Never!

"If I were assured he was on our side, I could learn to work with him... in due time."

Cesare raised his eyes again. The Devil's sinister grin sent shivers down his spine.

"Well, let's put you to the test, shall we? You will not resume your team's leadership, but you will fall in line with Tepes until I summon you to escort Joan from her current residence to Pergamum. Countess Bathory is keeping an eye on her now, so she will travel with you. You will guard Joan and ensure she delivers safely, after which you will bring her and the baby here."

"Your will, my Lord."

Cesare got to his feet and bowed low, walking backwards to the door.

"Oh, and Borgia..."

A dagger appeared mid-air in front of Cesare. He caught it nimbly but nearly dropped it again. Around the handle, wound tightly, was a lock of hair — her hair! 

"Just so you don't forget what's at stake."