Bergil and the demon entered the huge, bluish-lit hall with impossibly high ceilings and large, beautifully carved stone windows of the throne room, the pride of the palace. King Derek, seated on a large, elegantly carved white stone throne, awaited the arrival of a strange, unexpected visitor who was so foolish and arrogant that he demanded to meet him as if Derek were not the king of a great, rich state, but only the headman of a small village. Despite his title, the king did not wear his simple iron crown, for he did not consider the insolent demon worthy of the honor of seeing him in the full splendor of his royalty. The king was dressed in a black, tight-fitting surtoute, brown leather pants, and tall black boots. Derek was twenty-nine years old and had been in power for a long time, but this man had not fallen slave to gold brocade, jewels, and luxury. Derek had not a shred of fear in his heart for the representative of the demon race, but in order not to make his best friend worry for his safety, he had at hand his broad sword, which he had skillfully wielded since the days of his youth.

– Derek Merkswerd! King of Kaldwind! – slowly approached the throne, the demon said loudly, and his voice echoed in the monumental high vaults.

– I told you not to open your mouth! – Bergil threw angrily at him and drew his sword from its sheath: he was tormented by his distrust of this arrogant demon.

– I was sent to you by my king, the Lord of the mighty Flammehav Lamar! – ignoring the shouting of his guide, the demon continued his speech.

– How dare you address His Majesty in the first name? – Bergil roared, but Derek only grinned at the insolence and made a hand sign to his friend to keep his temper down.

– King Lamar is interested in my humble person? – Derek laughed softly. – What have I done to deserve this honor?

– Soon your people will be slaughtered, your cities will be reduced to ashes, and your despicable kingdom will have no fertile land left, not even ruins, and its memory will be wiped from the face of Wakkerland! – The envoy spoke in a contemptuous, but even somewhat solemn tone, moving closer and closer to the throne of the king.

– Interesting! Go on! – Derek liked this performance.

– We demons will drink the blood of your children and rape your women!

– What grand plans! – the king said mockingly. – What is it about my kingdom that displeases your king?

– You killed his brother a month ago, and he will not forgive you for that. He will avenge the death of Daryal Rossi, and believe me, you wretched man, your puny mind cannot imagine the fate of your lands! – The demon grinned predatorily.

– Why not? You just intimidated me, and in great detail," Derek said mockingly. – So the poor murderer we executed a month ago was King Flammehav's brother? What an interesting coincidence!

"By the Almighty! What have we done!" – Bergil's mind was filled with flames, darkness and rivers of blood, while the screams of women and children rang in his ears.

The demon squinted his eyes: this wretched little man had the audacity to mock the fact that he had killed Daryal Rossi, and the picture of horror that he, Lamar's messenger, had taken such pleasure in painting for him?

– You and your people will pay for this murder! – he shouted angrily.

– Oh, I would love to see it," Derek replied calmly, and rising from his throne he drew his sword and strode toward the envoy as he watched him approach with a wry grin.

– Your people already hate you, imagine what will happen when they find out that it was you who condemned them to horror and death? – The demon asked in a mocking tone. – And the horror and death will come so soon and so suddenly that nothing will save you miserable creatures! But you won't see it, because your death has caught up with you now! – He thrust his hand forward to telekinesis his own sword out of the king's hands and cut off his master's head with it.

But Derek only laughed and came closer and closer.

Bergil did not laugh, but he was in no hurry to leap at the demon and kill him. He knew Derek was in no danger.

– You're relying on your devil magic, aren't you? – grinned the king. – Come on, try again!

Surprised by his failure, the demon did not hesitate and wanted to send a fireball at his opponent, but not even smoke came out of his palm.

– What is this curse? – he muttered, confused and not knowing what was going on. Where's the magic gone?

– I see you're surprised," the king said mockingly, coming closer and closer, and this time the demon didn't try to use his magic again, but deftly pulled a long, thin dagger from the sleeve of his coat.

– Stay back, you miserable brat! – The messenger hissed threateningly and slowly backed toward the door. He was stunned, but realized that, unable to use magic, he was in mortal danger.

– What was it? Is an all-powerful demon afraid of a pitiful human? So King Lamar sent one of his kin to kill me in revenge for the death of his criminal brother? – Derek asked with a raised eyebrow.

– If I don't, he'll tear you to pieces and give your remains to the dogs," the demon smiled wickedly. – My magic has no power here… I should have seen it when I couldn't read your mind, bug king… But I'm the one who will send you to Hell! – He suddenly shouted and lunged forward to stab his enemy with his dagger.

But the king was right: without their magic, the demons were worth little. Quickness, strength, and agility left the demon, and Derek's sword went deep into its chest. The dagger fell from his weakened hands.

– It's not… It's impossible! – The demon wheezed out its last breath.

– Go back to your ancestor, you bastard," Derek said quietly into its face, pulled his sword from its chest and cut off its head.

– War awaits us, Derek… War! – Bergil muttered and sighed heavily. It was as if a huge stone had fallen on his shoulders. A stone of knowledge that soon hordes of demons would attack the peaceful, defenseless people of Kaldwind.

– Yes, Bergil, war," Derek replied grimly, staring at the corpse of his defeated foe with disdain. – Send the bastard's head to King Lamar: let him know that we fear neither him nor his black magic.

Half an hour later, a council of war was assembled to decide the life and death of the entire kingdom.

– O Great, O Terrible, our beloved Lord! – The Chancellor burst into the throne room with a shriek.

Lamar, the demon king, was annoyed by his servant's honors, but he didn't want to part with him, because the fussy demon had all the paperwork on his shoulders, and he did it well.

– Don't you shout! – The king waved him away with slight disgust.

– But…but… – The chancellor had a difficult fate: he had to tell the king about the recent incident and not lose his head, so he mumbled in an attempt to find the words.

– "But what?" – Lamar sipped from the golden cup and stared lazily at his approximant. – Had the angels finally sinned? Had the light come to a wedge? Has the lake of fire dried up? – The demon ruler chuckled, curling his fingers on his free hand.

– Not quite, oh, Great, there is such a thing … – almost a whisper began to speak cowardly chancellor.

– You tell me that the humans have declared war on us! – Lamar's laughter rumbled through the hall, and all the courtiers present caught it like a contagious disease.

– Yes… You could say that… You will definitely want to bare your sword now, my Lord," the servant said uncertainly, clutching the scroll in his hands.

Suddenly there was silence in the throne room, but a few seconds later the demons were laughing as they had never laughed before. Even the chandeliers seemed to move and the walls shook. But King of Flammehav did not yet know what he was about to hear.