After this initial display of submission, he was gradually granted further portions of mana. He was allowed to practise again and regained some of his former strength. What remained was the dark emptiness inside him. And the demon shackle.

Again and again his master tested him, breaking into his mind to search for resistance, using the demon shackle to make him collapse and keep him helpless for amusement. N'Arahn endured it, embracing the fear and darkness within him, accepting it as part of his new life. He learned. And buried the slowly resurfacing anger at his situation so deep inside himself that he hardly believed it to be true.

Some time had passed when Jazahr gave him a task that showed he thought N'Arahn had learned his lesson. He sent his adjutant to an aspiring demonduchess who currently had no higher demons of her own in her service.

However, she liked to have company around her and preferred to adorn herself with handsome warriors, the schemer explained. N'Arahn was to accompany her to the market, protect her and serve her for a while. However, he would expect regular reports: who did she do business with, who did she meet most often, what goods did she have at her disposal?

"That shouldn't be too difficult, even for someone like you. And you're sort of comely. At least somewhat." N'Arahn bowed his head even lower.

"Yes, master. Thank you for the task, master."

The disdainful sound Jazahr uttered sent a wild pang through the young demon's chest, but he suppressed the surge, emptied his mind. He shouldn't reveal himself, because... because what? There was nothing.

- - - - -

Serving the seductress proved to be comparatively pleasant. In fact, he was more of an exhibit than he had real work to do. Accompanying her to the market was as easy as could be, dragging along an entourage of lesser demons and captains that rendered his protection entirely superfluous.

However, Llanna praised his stature and let him fight small practice battles with other aides or lesser demons, but these were more about displaying physical attributes than injury and victory. Not N'Arahn's favorite kind of fighting, but a positive change after his experiences with his master.

Nevertheless, he reported back regularly as requested. He did not know when he would be called back, so he tried to be useful.

The separation from the schemer also allowed him to think about his alternatives, at least from time to time. Not particularly happy thoughts, because although he was physically far superior to the demonlord again, the demon shackle gave him no chance.

And now his master had also asked about the demoness's weak points. When was she alone? Which powers did she prefer to use? Did she have any jewelry that promised protection? The budding warmonger knew what this would lead to, and he didn't like it. He would have to prepare himself well.

- - - - -

After a day of visits and festivities that had left N'Arahn feeling extremely uncomfortable, the demonduchess retreated with a select few other higher demons. Only later did she send for the borrowed adjutant; by the time he joined her, she was alone again. The air had become saturated with the smells of lust, sweet wine and fruits; the pillows lying around were rumpled.

N'Arahn felt a new excitement rising within him. She had not asked anything like this of him before, but he would have been happy to oblige her in this particular regard. She was attractive, with her body rounded by shadow power to great advantage in his eyes, the red lips and the gaze that promised heat and fulfillment.

And he could use some relaxation, some warmth to fill his emptiness. Another way to let out that energy that felt almost like anger.

The seductress lay spread out, lolling comfortably in a landscape of pillows. As N'Arahn approached, she patted the cushions beside her. Obediently, he settled down next to her and waited to see what she had in mind. The demonduchess moved closer to him, stretched and straightened her very translucent robe a little, as if to give herself an appearance of chastity.

"You know you'll be punished by him after your efforts here, don't you?"

N'Arahn did not show his surprise, stiffening as Llanna slid her fingers over his sleeve with light pressure.

He was doing what his master wanted him to do after all. He obeyed him. Why should he punish him? And why was she talking to him about something like this?

"At the moment, you're only supposed to gather information. But the next assignment will be to kill me." The budding warmonger flinched involuntarily. Llanna giggled, nestled her head against his chest and let her fingers slip between the buttons of his shirt.

"Jazahr isn't much of a schemer, even if he thinks he is. Too predictable."

Her breath was warm, brushing over the fabric, seeping onto his skin through the thin ribbons he'd been forced to wear as a reminder ever since he'd been given over to the demonduchess. He had had to thank his master for giving them to him, as they were meant to speed up his learning process. He hated the pulling, sometimes cutting sensation of them pressing into his skin. The way they tore at his demon shackle and made the edges of the ring scrape across his neck. They didn't hinder his movements, but seemed to bind the darkness and despair tighter and tighter to him.

"And even if you manage to kill me, you will receive no reward." She turned his face towards her. "Wake up."

Even though he knew manipulating was her gift, he followed the pull of her words. For the first time in a long time, he felt awake and lucid. He could now clearly see the hatred that seethed within him towards his master. He wanted revenge, wanted to free himself.

The demonduchess was putting him in serious danger. If his master tested him again...

"Think, my little warrior."

Fingertips danced gently across his chin, brushing down, tapping the demon shackle, traveling to the edge of his shirt. N'Arahn's skin tingled, lust washed over him like a wave, mingling with hot rage; the seductress intensified his rising desires. Another one who's just using you.

The movement of his hand felt sluggish, as if he had to push his fingers through a resistance, but he pushed the demonduchess away. Carefully, almost gently. She seemed surprised, almost as much as he was. Then she giggled as he sat up, creating some space between them.

"Indeed." She tilted her head and gave him a sleepy look. "There's more will in you than I expected."

The adjutant's heart raced. He couldn't have been more exhilarated if he'd just been through a wrestling match. But he bowed his head and remained silent.

"Are you really that devoted to him? Or are you letting fear bind you?" Perhaps she was trying to provoke him, at least he thought her tone was challenging. But he couldn't give in to it. He had not yet received an order, he was not allowed to attack her and act against his master's will. However, if Jazahr tested him now, he would not be able to hide his anger. He had to find the darkness again...

"I ask you to release me from your service, mistress." He hadn't actually wanted to speak to her. But it was perhaps his only chance to get some time to himself, to suppress again everything that could expose him. How else could he escape the fate that the demonduchess was preparing for him?

She laughed, a pearly sound, full of practiced mirth.

"That would be the lesser of two evils for you, wouldn't it? But what's in it for me?" He could hear the fabric of her light clothing rustle as she shook herself. "No. No, I'm after something more fun. You can help me with that, or you can stand in my way. I'll give you the choice."

There was another rustle, now the demoness sounded more businesslike. "You're still very young, so I'll sort out what you're involved in for you." She sighed affectedly.

"Should you actually be able to kill me as soon as Jazahr tells you to, it will be his gain alone. He has eliminated me as a competitor and can also discredit the smith of your demon shackle. Because, and you will be able to see the truth in my words, he will deny that there was an order. He will regret my death and blame it on a faulty demon shackle. He'll make an example of you," she mimicked the schemer's condescending tone, "Warmonger candidates must be especially controlled and put in their place."

She was right. She needed no suggestion to him for him to believe her. It was exactly what his master would do. N'Arahn cringed inwardly; he was not ready to be punished this way again. And since Jazahr thought nothing of leniency, he would certainly initiate the next stage of his chastisement.

Llanna's voice broke through his thoughts: "I gain nothing in this scenario. However, it won't happen either." The short pause gave the young demon enough time to feel the hopelessness of his situation. Whatever he did now, he was doomed. If she simply had him killed, that would be a mercy.

Perhaps she was reading him, perhaps it was all too obvious where his thoughts were going, perhaps this was exactly where she had wanted to lead him. But she said what he was thinking: "I could have you killed. Simply because I like it and because it's safer for me. I could hand you over to your master along with your failure. Or..."

N'Arahn knew she had caught him. He would listen to her offer, he had no other choice.

"I had a very... satisfying conversation with the smith of your shackle earlier." Abruptly, the budding warmonger lifted his head; the seductress' blue eyes flashed at him in amusement.

"You could return to Jazahr. To kill him, not to subjugate yourself again." She pursed her full lips and blinked exaggeratedly. "How does that sound, my sweet?"

N'Arahn's pulse raced again. Was there actually going to be a way out of this? Perhaps it was just a trap, a suggestion meant to tempt him into betraying his master, only to hand him over to the schemer all the more.

But the demonduchess was still young herself and could probably make good use of potential allies. A competitor eliminated, a business partner bound closer to her by saving her from losing face. N'Arahn did not find the convoluted thoughts of betrayal, seduction and business easy, but he could see something coherent in this constellation.

Besides, his own situation was so desperate that he was willing to take the risk. He hung his head as a new wave of fatalism flooded him with the decision he had made.

"How?"

"I can't take the shackle off you. But I can weaken it. The rest is up to you."

"What's the price?"

Llanna again laughed that elaborate laugh that didn't really invite participation. A shiver ran over N'Arahn's skin, making him feel the straps stretching all over his body.

"Ah, how cute. What are you going to offer me that I can't have anyway?" He could see out of the corner of his eye that she was waving it off. "You'll take the risk, because failure will fall on you alone. You know best what that means for you."

She leaned towards him so that he could feel her breath on his ear. Her closeness and the smell of her and the earlier events in this room fogged his senses.

"So make an effort. Let your lust for his blood run wild. And maybe, if you ascend to demonlord..." she had pulled back from him again, leaving a poisonous longing in him, "maybe you'll get to come back here."