>>6060316>>6060364>>6060374>>6061001https://files.catbox.moe/3pvr6c.mp3Would it be wise, or even kind, to leave the imp at the Demon King’s whims upon his return? Did you have any concerns of what he would—might—do to her? She would sit alone, waiting for his unpredictable return, and he would ask many questions.
“Rratu,” you called out into the room, “come out.”
Her silhouette wavered, little feet scuffling across the room, unlike you, nimbly avoiding anything on the floor. Sconces’ crimson fire flickered in her grey eyes as she emerged, her posture hunching under your gaze.
Her lips parted as if to question, but she halted, eyes snapping wide at the sight of Miranna.
Your iron gauntlet nudge her chin upward. “Listen, Rratu. Are you feeling well enough to walk?”
The imp swallowed nervously. “Yes, royal one … y-yes. I can resume my duties immediately—“
You lifted your hand to stop her. “No,” you said. “What you need now is rest. Return to your lodging and have a good sleep.”
She fiddled with the folds of her apron. “As your Highness commands,” she replied, casting a way glance at Miranna.
“Something wrong, imp?” the she-demon asked, her talons lifting and clicking together before resting on her armour.
“No! I was just … curious why the Demon King’s armour looks so different!” she said. “I’m aware it’s not my place t-to ask!”
Bowing her head, her eyes fixed on the reflection in the slate marble, her grey eyes the only feature visible; she curtsied. Her eyes closed, her hands trembling as she lingered in place, unsure if she could leave without a response.
“Next time we meet, I’ll be back in my usual armour,” you promised, your voice resounding. “Now, hurry and rest now.”
Rratu nodded, whirling around and then scurrying across the lit hallway, soon disappearing around the corner bend.
Miranna harrumphed, elbowing at your armoured side. “Well, that was all a colossal waste of time,” she said, stiffing a yawn.
You glanced towards the door, watching for it to shut … unsure of when it would, but not wishing be startled when it happens.
“Maybe not,” you said, turning towards her. “She told me some of the whereabouts of either of the Generals …”
You paused, reckoning whether you should ask Miranna about the Arboreal Witch. That was Lucia, was that not? Why was she a …
You gestured with your head at the distance. “You’re right that we shouldn’t squander any more time. Let’s go.”
Miranna peered at you suspiciously, then her features relaxed. Her cloak whipped into the air, morphing into wings and lifting her off the ground; it seemed that she had a genuine distaste of walking. You followed her through the winding passageways and vast corridors of the citadel, which seemed to to expand and grow ever larger, your one-room dwelling easily able to fit inside, and then be forgotten in the immense interiors.
