"Why, in the name of all the gods and the heavens above, did you let Hevira go, Haviel?!"
That voice was much too loud to be part of a wonderful dream and combined with the terribly strong scent of expensive cigars and old pieces of paper made it impossible for it not to be a nightmare as well. Harvey jerked back, desperately yearning the half-eaten taco he’d been holding a minute ago.
Ok, he was no longer in a sewage trench, an improvement, technically, but now he stood before a man who seemed to be composed of 15% flesh and 85% grumpy wood. He realised he was in a lot of trouble.
The man in front of him was the Duke. He knew this thanks to all those people who vibrated with the energy typical of b*mb disposal squads or similar sorts, referring to this individual as "Your Grace" or "My Lord Duke."
He was most likely in his 50s, nicely dressed in an outfit that seemed to be designed by the finest designer in the world. He stared at Harvey with a gaze that could peel paint from the wall. He looked fairly calm, though not in any "vacation" calm but "I have already decided which cell you’re going to die in" calm.
Harvey’s brain felt more like a Windows 95 computer attempting to run an HD game, glitching. He stood there with legs approximating overcooked pasta, remembering how he got himself into this cornered situation. One second, he was watching that girl (Hevira, turned out his "sister") bolt out of the door. The next, he was out in the hallway and surrounded by what seemed exactly like a freaking SWAT team in a movie.
Then the Duke appeared, and simply pointed a finger at Harvey, indicating that he wanted him to follow him to his study, basically a huge office filled with way too much moonlight and a vibe that made his skin crawl.
"Look," Harvey started, his voice wavering slightly. He cleared his throat, and tried to bring that "customer service" confidence he alwaysn shown when he was dealing with an angry Ave back at the office. "She clearly didn’t want to get married. Like, she was all crying. I didn’t think it was a big deal, you know? Freedom of movement and all that?"
Honestly, all things considered, Harvey thought he was handling this craziness so damn well.
He wasn’t screaming or fainted. And that deserved a little bit of credit.
Because if he actually did take a minute to think about it, the possibility that he wasn’t even in his own world anymore but some novel he’d never read... yeah nope. That type of shit would lead to a full breakdown.
So he wasn’t thinking about it. Also because he didn’t have that much time.
So he was staying calm.
And honestly, that was a skill he genuinely put on his resume without lying.
The silence that followed was extremely painful. The Duke didn’t blink, an the guards didn’t move at all. Harvey felt a bead of sweat drip from the back of his neck.
"As for me, I also," Harvey added, his words tumbling out faster now, "I...I’m just trying to be a good brother, ok."
He immediately regretted opening his mouth because these people looked at him like he had gone from being a rational individual to being a recklessly insane traitor. The Duke’s eyes narrowed as he asked, "Where exactly did she go, Haviel? Who provided the horse? Was there a pre-arranged meeting point?"
"I’m telling you, I just let her out the door," Harvey replied. "I didn’t give her a horse. I don’t even know where the horses live in this house!"
He was desperate. He clung to the hope that by continuing to tell the universe that this was not his problem, they would realize they had the wrong human and send him back to his apartment. The more he spoke the more it sank in that he was inside a novel and he did not know how to escape.
Not to mention that he had messed up. Big time. If he’d known, that this was real life and not a taco-induced hallucination, he would have barricaded the door and sat on his "sister" until the guards arrived.
After that, the mood in the room changed. The Duke leaned forward, and for the first time, his voice had a hint of what sounded like fear.
"Good brother? Just let her out? The only thing standing between our worlds and total destruction is this marriage pact. Do you realized what you have done, Haviel Ershel?!"
"Then let’s go find her!" he shouted back. "Focus on that! Stop talking to me and start... I don’t know, sending out search parties? Use dogs? Come on, I’ll help, too!"
The Duke was staring at him with disgust on his face. "The search is underway, Haviel. But time is a luxury we no longer possess. The Demon King’s arrival cannot be postponed. To send him away empty-handed is to invite a war we cannot win. The wedding ceremony must happen.
Harvey just opened his mouth to tell the Duke that this whole mess was not his fault in the first place, damn right, it was God’s fault, when the door to the study creaked open. A guard stepped through the door with a pale face.
"Your Grace," the guard began. "The Demon King... has arrived. He is at the gate with his envoy."
No one said anything after that, but Harvey saw the Duke’s hand tremble, not a good sign, by the way, before the man regained his composure.
And then, his gaze turned toward Harvey.
The Duke studied him. It was a long, uncomfortably thorough look, the kind of look a farmer gives a horse he’s about to put to work. The guards, too, seemed to be waiting for an order.
"The treaty," the Duke said, "calls for a human bloodline. It does not have to be her."
Harvey froze. A short, sharp laugh escaped his throat. It was an ugly sound. "Wait. What? You want... me?HAHAHA! No. No, no, no. That’s...that’s a joke, right? You’re kidding. You’ve got a weird, old-timey sense of humor."
Nobody laughed. Nobody even cracked a smile. Instead, the guards stood motionless in their place like a more obvious cage around him grew stronger with every passing second.
The panic came to him. "NO FREAKING WAY!" Harvey yelled, his voice cracking as he shooked his head. "I’m not her! I’m not even this world... You can’t just... swap us out like we’re mismatched socks! That’s insane! That’s illegal! I’m pretty sure there’s a law against this!"
He was rambling now, full-on, no brakes, just words tripping over each other on the way out. And the worst part? It was useless.
"It is not a request, Haviel," the Duke said, standing up. "It is the only viable solution to save thousands of lives. As long as we have someone to marry him. If you go to him, if you take the vows... the peace is maintained."
"And if I don’t?" Harvey challenged him, trying desperately to catch his breath as he was breathing in shallow gasps.
"Then we all die," the Duke simply said. "And you will be the first."
The guards moved a little in their places. It wasn’t an aggressive movement...just a slight tilt of their spears, a tightening of their formation.
He understood, with a sinking hollow feeling, that he was no longer involved in this
discussion. He was the subject of it.
"No, wait, wait, just let me think for a second..."
However, the Duke was already moving. He circled the desk with his overwhelming presence. He didn’t look like a man about to sell his son to a monster, but looked like a man who was wrapping up an errand.
"He is here. No more time for thinking. Only for action."
He turned to the servants hovering near the door.
"Take him," the Duke commanded. He stepped up to him and put one heavy, cold hand on his shoulder. "Bathe him. Dress him in the ceremonial silks. Cover his face with the veil. Ensure he looks every bit the bride the King expects."
"No! Hey! Get your hands off me or I’ll bite you, I’m serious!" Harvey struggled as two guards stepped forward, their grip on his arms like iron shackles. He tried to kick them, his boots skating across the expensive rug, but it was like fish against a stone wall.
The Duke leaned in, his face inches away from Harvey’s. "Do not make this harder than it needs to be, Haviel. You have to take the responsibility, after all it is your mistake. For the sake of human races... just play the part."
He looked back at the maid, a woman with sterned face who looked like she hadn’t smiled for a long time.
"Get him ready," the Duke ordered, his voice echoing in the room. "He will marry the Demon King."