"We’ve already informed the council concerning your lack of memories, my lord." Vile proclaims as she takes her place on the right side of the throne.
"And concerning your angelic friend..." Vex adds with a huff as she takes her place to the left of Lucien.
Four figures step into the throne room one after another, each carrying a stack of documents and tomes, their footsteps echoing off the obsidian floor like the world’s most ominous roll call.
First was a dragonkin woman, her skin shimmering with iridescence, her gleaming, crimson horns curled along the side of her head. She nods at Lucien, eyes smokey and half-lidded as she chews a hard candy with lazy elegance. She wears a tight vest, tighter pants, and a very bored expression, like conquering nations is somewhere below re-alphabetizing a filing cabinet on her list of priorities.
"I’m your royal treasurer, Ignara. I keep your wealth safe, your bribes paid, and your gambling debts within reason, Your Majesty."
Next, a tall arachna-kin woman steps forward. Her humanoid body is clad in armor, but subtle movements hint at the extra limbs folded beneath. She flicks back her short black hair, puffs out her bountiful bosom, and her violet eyes gleam.
"Captain X’zelle. Leader of your Royal Guard, my lord. I handle local enforcement. Surveillance. And some of your wardrobe adjustments."
Then comes the armored titan. Clanking, massive, radiating sheer menace in a hulking mechanical suit that hisses and sparks with each movement. Their voice comes like a bear gargling gravel.
"General Groth. War. Logistics. Weapon production... Executions."
Lucien nods, impressed. "Loving your aesthetic, Groth."
The general turns to him and gives a slow nod. "T-Thank you, m’lord."
Last is a scrawny, nervous young demon man in robes far too big for him. He drops his scrolls twice before introducing himself.
"A-A-Alexel! Royal architect. I b-build things. Bridges. Fortresses. Uh. Sewer systems?"
Lucien steps off his throne, grinning. "Excellent. With introductions out of the way, we can get right to work."
He raises a hand and dark magic surges around him as he strides forward. The very stones of the floor ripple like liquid. Then a grand round table erupts from the throne room’s floor, made of black marble and split with cracks of glowing crimson.
His officials all gape in awe.
He places his goblet on the table and looks each of them in the eye, facial expression now serious.
"I want everything. Maps. Intel. Secrets. Gossip. I need to understand this world if I’m going to conquer it."
General Groth laughs, a deep guttural sound that echoes through the chamber.
"Yes, my lord! Let the age of your conquest begin!"
Lucien leans forward, palms to the table. Flames flare from his hands as the table lights up with magic, bathing the room in glowing, molten light.
"We’re not just conquering." Lucien grins. "I want to build an empire. My empire."
Eight hours later, the grand war table has turned into a battlefield of its own right.
Scrolls are scattered about, wine-stained maps lie spread out beside piles of empty goblets and meat-stuffed bread crusts. That, and the oddly suspicious claw mark or two, are all that remain of an executive council meeting that has gone on far, far too long.
The High Council lies sprawled out, groaning in defeat across the marble table.
Groth’s armored helm is tipped forward like they’ve finally passed out sitting up.
Ignara is curled under the table, sucking on a mint with the thousand-yard stare of a dragonkin who’s seen too many spreadsheets.
X’zelle is slumped against a pillar, snoring quietly, while poor Alexel looks like he’s lost the mental fortitude to even open a book again.
Lucien, on the other hand, is beaming. Legs up, documents in hand, eyes sharp as ever. He runs a hand through his dark hair and shoots a glance toward his favorite trembling architect.
"Alexel," he purrs. "Tell me more about the general infrastructure of my kingdom. Roads. Sewers. Transport routes. What’s holding us back from the next stage of development?"
The poor demon nearly chokes on his tongue. "W-Well, my lord, uh, mostly it’s labor shortages. We lack skilled builders. Our construction techniques are, um, outdated. Basic wooden framing, minimal stone shaping, almost no enchanted material use beyond defense walls—"
Lucien stands up with interest and Alexel flinches. The demon lord drapes an arm over the little demon’s shoulder.
"You and I," Lucien says smoothly, "are going to be best friends. Civil engineering and city planning were how I started my empire... well, in a previous life anyway. They’re my second favorite passions. Right after profiting and pleasuring."
Alexel’s entire body stiffens.
Around the table, a collective groan rumbles.
"We can’t... take anymore, Lord Lucidius." Ignara moans from beneath the table.
"My brain isn’t built for this..." X’zelle hisses.
Groth mumbles, "I’ve fought titans with less stamina."
Lucien claps. "Oh come now, that was just the Ash Lands. We haven’t even started on the seven kingdoms."
A chorus of anguish erupts across the room.
Vex and Vile slink up to his side, purring like well-fed cats, their tails curling lazily around the legs of his chair.
"My lord has had such a long day," Vex whispers, her hands sliding along his chest.
"Don’t you deserve a little rest?" Vile coos from behind him, her fingers finding all the right pressure points along his shoulders.
"Hmm," Lucien hums, stroking his chin in exaggerated contemplation. "Torn between productivity and pleasure."
He turns to Serenith with a smirk. "Alas, balance must be maintained, right?"
The angel’s mouth falls open, but she fails to find a suitable retort.
He turns to his council. "You’re dismissed for the day. Be back first thing tomorrow, well-fed, well-rested, and ready to dive into the kingdom’s geopolitics headfirst."
They all groan affirmations before staggering out of the throne room like hungover zombies, boots dragging, robes trailing, one of Alexel’s scrolls unspooling behind him the whole way out like a paper trail of defeat.
Vex and Vile each hook an arm around Lucien’s, their hips already swaying in victory. He grins, hands firmly gripping their demonically perfect butts as he flicks his head back toward Serenith.
Then give her the smirk.
"You coming, my muse?"
"Someone has to make sure you don’t drown in decadence." Serenith sighs, wings fluttering with a pout.