No Flaws

Chapter 13

It was a vast, gorgeously designed chamber, the floor covered in a luxuriant carpet that must have taken a team of artisans several years to weave. The table in the middle featured wood carved from a fragrant tree, providing a pleasant, woodsy smell. It was large, round, and could comfortably seat a dozen or so—but despite the size of the room, only three chairs were placed around it. They were all the height of luxury, of course.

Selling even one of the items that adorned this room would allow someone to live like nobility for a decade or so. Such was the quality instilled into each piece, enough to overwhelm anyone that walked into the chamber. 

But even as it did, the sort of person to visit this place knew the power of money—they had enough to buy any high-grade magic weapon they wanted or hire the best mercenaries in the land. They revelled in the assets they held, and a room like this was meant less to impress and more to rob the visitor of any desire to resist the will of their host.

That was the role of this chamber, but the invitees assembling in the space in a few moments were not the type to be fazed by such public displays of wealth.

This room was owned by a thin and slender man and his eyes exuded intelligence even as they suggested he was rather high-strung. Even so, the demon lord Clayman had the force of will to make almost anyone follow his orders.

He knew that his guests would be coming soon. Demon lords, the same rank as himself. And Clayman's goal today was to rein in these self-willed, wayward creatures, showing them enough of an enjoyable time to bring them under his full control.

Just as he thought that the appointed hour was near, he suddenly realized that someone was occupying another seat.

"Yo, Clayman. Gelmud doin' well for you?"

He had his legs crossed as he calmly leaned his large, muscular frame back into his seat and casually engaged Clayman. But every move of his was just as supple and elegant as Clayman's. This was no muscle-bound dolt—he presented the air of a battle-proven military hero. His own formal outfit was obviously a tad worn, but it didn't make him seem unclean at all. If anything, it emphasized his wild side, building an atmosphere that made one hesitate more than a little to go near him.

His unrefined manner of speech would seem to be a poor match for that, but it only served to make the man all the more charming. His well-maintained short blond hair, meanwhile, paired perfectly with the masculine contours of his face. His sharp, hawk-like eyes were burrowing into Clayman—he was keenly focused, perhaps out of distrust for his fellow demon lord.

"Carillon?" Clayman asked. "You're early, eh? I was planning to brief you on that today, actually. Certainly wasn't expecting you to arrive first, though"

"No need for that treatment, now. I'm sure our little lady is busy with her own preparations"

"Heh. 'Lady,' now, is it? Hmm... Yes, maybe so. Ah, but we'd better not say any more of her for now. After all..."

"She's rather sensitive to people bad-mouthing her, yes."

The two gave each other a look, exchanging a slight laugh. Just as they stopped, the door to the chamber was suddenly thrown open. A single young woman stood there, looking around the room for a moment before realizing only Clayman and Carillon were there.

"Were you guys just spreading rumours about me?"

She was young, very young, oddly so for someone participating in a summit like this. Fourteen or fifteen, perhaps, and while appearances were often deceiving for magic-born people like her, she looked woefully out of place.