The parchment landed on my desk with a sound like a dying man's last breath.
I didn't need to look up to know what it was. The stench of mortal desperation clung to it like cheap perfume, that particular blend of sweat, ink, and poorly concealed treachery that always accompanied diplomatic correspondence from Ashkent.
"Again?" I sighed, swirling a glass of 500 -year-old ethers between my fingers. "What is it this time? More pleas for clemency? Requests for extended payment terms?"
Asmodeus came from the shadows, his raven feathers rustling with barely contained irritation. "Worse," he croaked. "They've proposed amendments."
That made me look up.
The throne room of Hell stretched around us, its vaulted ceilings lost in perpetual smoke. The wails of the damned provided a pleasant background hum as I reached for the document, my claws leaving singe marks on the vellum.
"Let me guess," I murmured, scanning the text. "They want to reduce their tithe of souls by half while still expecting full protection from the heavenly host?"
Asmodeus clicked in amusement. "Almost verbatim."
I let the parchment burst into hellfire, watching the ashes spiral upward toward the obsidian chandeliers. "Send Vexis."
A rare flicker of unease passed through Asmodeus's beady eyes. "My lord, perhaps a more... diplomatic approach..."
I leaned back in my throne, the bones of its construction groaning in sympathy. "Zoraya had her chance at diplomacy when she sent this insult wrapped in legalese. Now she gets a lesson in why we don't renegotiate infernal contracts."
---
Vexis arrived in a swirl of shadows and static electricity, her form refusing to settle on any single horror. One moment she appeared as a beautiful noblewoman, the next as a mass of writhing tendrils with too many eyes.
"You summoned me, Dark Star?" Her voice echoed from everywhere at once.
I gestured to the reconstructed parchment. "Ashkent requires a reminder of their place in our arrangement."
Asmodeus's smile split her face too wide. "How thorough would you like this reminder to be?"
I steepled my fingers, considering. "The treaty gets signed unchanged. Zoraya keeps her throne. The rest..." I waved a hand. "Be poetic."
---
The screams reached Hell before Vexis did.
She materialized in the throne room dragging the still-conscious remnants of Ashkent's royal treasurer by his own intestines. The parchment she presented was pristine, signed in blood that still steamed.
"Done," she purred, dropping the moaning official at my feet like a cat presenting a particularly gruesome gift.
I examined the document. Every clause remained intact. Every demand met. The signatures bore the scars of absolute terror.
"Any complications?" I asked, pouring myself another drink.
Vexis licked a drop of blood from her claws. "Zoraya required some... persuasion. I relocated her entire court to the Hall of Screaming Statues for the negotiations." She grinned. "Turns out watching your advisors turn to agonized marble does wonders for one's cooperation."
I nodded approvingly, filing away that particular tactic for future use. "And the amendments?"
"Burned along with the ambassador who suggested them."
"Good." I rolled the parchment and sealed it with a drop of my own blood. "That's how diplomacy should be done."
As Vexis melted back into the shadows, I took a long sip of ethers , savoring the smoky aftertaste.
Some rulers needed flattery. Others required threats.
But the Ashkenti?
They only ever understood one language.
And tonight, Vexis had spoken it fluently.