TBTT 50. The grubs are psychedelic

[moonshadows]

"Minister of War Agnes."

"Warlord Raphael."

There is a pause while War waits to see if she is expected to greet the demon, but it seems the demon is to be treated as a silent extension of the Warlord.

"You saw the feed, I presume."

"I did." War pauses again, still struggling to incorporate what she saw into her understanding of how the world works. After a moment, she decides to sidestep the entire issue. "We'll hit the capital while they're still demoralized. How much death and destruction did you want?"

He walks over to stare at the map for a long minute. "I want no pillaging. Try to keep the destruction down, but as for death..." he turns around again. "Anyone that resists, dies. Man, woman, or child, it makes no difference. I do not want to have to deal with insurgents every time my back is turned. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good. And Minister...make sure your troops are prepared to follow my orders. Any soldier who does not obey this command is to be executed immediately, so re-assign any soldiers who would balk at this and leave them here, or send them to where they can move on the delta. There will be no mutiny in the ranks."

"Understood, my Lord."

"Now, what is your assessment of the demonstration of my demon's power?"

War flinches minutely. "I understand why you have devoted so much time and energy to bonding her to you. The thoroughness of her...demonstration...was admirable, and executed with textbook precision." She pauses. "If anyone had written a textbook on attacking with a lightning storm, that is. Given the one demonstration, it makes me wonder how we managed to repel their invasion all those years ago."

The momentary movement of her eyes, from her Lord to his demon, suggests that she'd hoped to bait the other female into saying something, but it is the Warlord that answers her.

"Fortunate coincidence," he says, one hand gesturing dismissively. "You can ask Joshua for more information if you are curious, but the demons began their invasion in this region-"

"-and ran into the problem of easily-defensible territory," War finishes.

"Indeed, as well as underestimating the technological level of the region."

"By the time they would have gotten out of the tunnels, the neighboring regions would have been ready for them."

"It was a fairly brutal defeat, as I understand it." Beside him, his demon moves slightly, and he suddenly suspects that this story has a meaning for her that is unrelated to Joshua's research. "Now, are there any more details that need to be discussed?"

"No, my Lord," War answers crisply.

"Then I leave the conquest of the hill region in your hands."

War salutes as he strides out of the room, demon in tow. He may have a hair-trigger temper and a heart carved out of granite, but he doesn't micro-manage her and that's good enough for her. It's easy to find a boss who doesn't fly into murderous rages, she thinks. It's a lot harder to find one who doesn't think he knows your job better than you.
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"Minister of State Donald."

"Warlord." Oh, he's brought his tasty little-

"I trust you've seen the feed."

-would love to get her alone and- "I have. Very impressive." -bet she'd whimper prettily when I-

He sits at the head of the table as though reclining in a throne, and she hovers silently to his right and a step behind him, trying to keep her face impassive. It's not easy to ignore the stream of dirty thoughts that come from the minister; he's very loud and visual in what he thinks is the privacy of his own mind.

"-chances of the delta sending us a delegation?" he asks, and she realizes she's gotten distracted.

"Oh, you caused quite a stir, my Lord," State gushes greasily. "The delta is swarming like a knot of eels in bloodlust. My sources in the parliament report that the Chancellor is likely to make a move within the next two days."

"Hn. And what preparations will you be making for this?"

"Already working on it, Lord. I knew it would just be a matter of time before..."

State continues with his explanation, fawning praise studding the description of accommodations and protocol, but she stops paying attention. That's not her job; her job is her Kal'shan's mind, and she stares blankly off into space as she slips past his barriers. Immediately, she realizes why he manages to keep breaking things and wounding himself. His mind is a very different place when he's not alone with her; many structures and pieces of unrepaired machinery are in motion as he takes the measure and motion of this particular ball into account and keeps it in the air along with everything else he's juggling. In the industrial visualization she prefers, metal screams against metal as broken pieces scrape together, gouging into each other. Rust makes other pieces groan, and broken ends slice into the scarred flesh of his psyche.

What do I do with this? She stares in awe at the machinery that shouldn't be moving at all, much less with such speed. No wonder he gets irritated so easily. A minute or two goes by while she watches the motion and gets the hang of the rhythms, and then she dabs anesthetic into the fresh cuts and onto the deep gouges being scraped into the machinery. The broken ends are moving too fast to tag for later work, but she can and does tag more stable parts so that the next chance she gets, she can try to tinker with the machinery and fix whatever's causing pieces to scrape each other like that. When State gathers his papers and hustles out of the room, she slips back out of her Kal'shan's mind.

The oath he utters once the door has shut is fairly vile, and in one of the languages used in the Legion. He starts and turns as though he'd forgotten she was there, guilt written clearly on his face.

"I don't think he'd eat the grubs even if he could get them," she says casually. "He seems to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh rather than the mind."

The unexpectedly calm commentary causes him to chuckle, and her pulse races at having pleased him.

"Our next appointment is in the gym," he says as he stands up. "After that, you will return to your suite. You will accompany me during the mornings for the next week, and then we will discuss staying with me all day." The smile he gives her is warped and apologetic. "My schedule is not exactly thrilling," he says dryly. "You may wish to keep the  afternoons for yourself."

She shakes her head. "My place is at your side. Doesn’t matter if it’s thrilling or boring or happy or heartbreaking. I am your Champion-” she looks him in the eyes, her soul contracting into a dense purple cloud, “-and I will not abandon you.”

He gapes at her, wanting to crush her to his chest but derailed by another thought. “Is it my command, then, that keeps you in your rooms when I have not called for you?”

A soft blush colors her human cheeks and she ducks her head shyly. “I hear and obey the words of my Lord,” she says, apology tangled with admiration.

He commands her! She would spend the entire day at his side if he allowed her to, and remains in her rooms only because it is what he wishes. He does not deserve – what did he do to earn such loyalty and devotion?

“My Champion,” he says softly, imbuing the words with all the things he might someday say when she is not a child. Her answering smile warms him with the knowledge that if she heard what was unsaid, it just means that she will be that much more patient.