Baalbatos, the Demonic One

There was a time before Baalbatos had come to the mortal realm. When he was something of a small time leader in the Demon Realm. And how fondly he remembered it as he stared out the window of the room he was sitting in. It was a small room, cozy if he was being generous, but at least it was warm, unlike the outside world that he was staring at. It was raining outside, the pitter patter of the drops glancing across the window as his eyes stared aimlessly out there. He was not looking for anything in particular, just something to keep his eyes on as he remembered the time before he had come into the service of Lord Qrowen. Even now, that seemed so long ago. Though it wasn’t. He’d only been walking the realm of mortals for the tiniest fraction of his life. He was nearing a century in age, most of it spent in the demon realm. At least, he thought, he still looked youthful. That was one of the benefits of being a demon. He would not have to worry about growing wrinkly like some sort of human.It was one of the demon realm’s blessings, and one that he embraced. He missed the demon realm…



With a sigh, Baalbatos rose and stood, pacing around his room like a caged cat. There was little he could do here; He was simply biding his time until that report came. So many reports, he thought, and there was little sign of them slowing down. Qrowen’s ambition kept him well stocked in these reports. And even if Baalbatos occasionally shook his head in disdain when a report came to him, he read them anyways. After all, Qrowen’s ambition was Baalbatos’s as well. And that was because Baalbatos saw it as his grand opportunity. These Kold Demons were once kings among kings, and Lord Qrowen sought to rebuild that legacy. And Baalbatos wanted to ride those coattails into some glory and power for himself. Why, he thought, build and rule my own empire when he could simply enjoy someone else’s? Of course, there was hardly a moment of peace in this world. But, at least one day he would be able to lounge about and enjoy the fruits of an empire while someone else dealt with the stresses of ruling.


That was the dream. Someone else ruling while he simply got to enjoy the benefits of power. Baalbatos smiled at the thought. To be able to live out the rest of his life in the lap of luxury… It was the kind of world he had wanted to carve out for himself in the demon realm, but he would settle for having one here. Maybe he could find a way to get the old gang here… They would make for good soldiers. Baalbatos cast his eyes out the window again and frowned. How were they doing? Did they even care that he was missing? Loyalty was cheap among demons, but surely his retinue was different… Somehow he doubted.



“Ah well,” he whispered, “If they’ve forgotten me, I will just have to remind them who was in charge. One day, at least.”



And he looked forward to that day that he returned to the demon realm for them, to remind them that they had pledged their service to him. And with that pledge came something else… Their souls. Yes, Baalbatos would remind them of that. Yes, some would be eager to return to his service, but some would not. Surely, some had died, some had ran far away, or some had even begun to carve out their own little kingdoms in the demon realm. For those, Baalbatos would take some sort of twisted delight in tearing down their new lives, like someone kicking over a child’s sand castle.



The door to his room slid open. Baalbatos rounded on the source of the disturbance, his eyes narrowed. And he was face to face with a Brenchian woman, Gouta. See was red of skin with gold-blonde hair. Pretty, he thought, for a mortal woman. And, more importantly, one of the soldiers in Lord Qrowen’s army. And, even more importantly, under Baalbatos’s command. She’s started as a mercenary, and one loathe to serve in the army of a Kold Demon lord, but Baalbatos had a way with words. He’d promised her the world and more, convinced her to stay. Now, she was a fixture around these parts.



“Sir,” she began suddenly, “I have brought that report as requested. I hope that you find it satisfactory.”



Quickly, she held out a datapad. Baalbatos took it into his own hand and smiled. “Why, thank you Gouta. I’d been waiting for this report. I was beginning to think it would never come,” he laughed haughtily.



“No, sir,” she insisted, “I would never let that happen.”



“Good, good,” he cooed, “You know, Gouta, I am very proud of all the hard work you put in. You’re an excellent soldier and an excellent worker. That will take you far.”



The Brenchian smiled a little, “Thank you, sir.”



“Yes, you’ll go far,” he continued, his grin widening, “And I’ll take you far. Remember, you are in my service and I reward the qualities of competence and excellence. And I think that you have both of those qualities in spades.”



“Thank you, sir,” she repeated.



“Why, you’re quite welcome. You know, you’re lucky that you’re just so talented. If you weren’t, oh my would I feel sorry for you. And I would feel a little bad myself,” said Baalbatos.



“Why is that, sir?” Asked Gouta, a small look of confusion sprouting on her face.



“Because, my dear soldier,” he said as he stepped closer to her, “Incompetence gets punished. Failure gets punished. Treachery gets punished. All those nasty things that no one really wants to be get punished. And no one wants to be punished. And, personally, I am loathe to do the punishing. But, my dear, someone has too. If no one did, laxness and weakness would run rampant. And we can’t have that. Oh no, Lord Qrowen deserves better than that, don’t you think?”



She nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said quietly.



“And of course,” continued Baalbatos, “I think I deserve better than that, too. What do you think, Gouta.”



“Yes, sir, you do!” She exclaimed, “I want to help you, sir.”



Baalbatos smirked. How easily people were won with words. All one needed to do was sweet talk them a little, promise them a little taste of power, and they melted around you, twisting around your finger. People were quite malleable, he thought, if you knew how to work them. Mortals especially.



“Oh, thank you, Gouta,” he crooned, “That means so much to me. You truly are the most loyal of our soldiers, even if some people might not think so.”



“W-what?” Stammered Gouta, “People doubt my loyalty?”



“Well of course. You started as mercenary. And besides” said Baalbatos, “You are a Brenchian. And your race is not exactly fond of the Kold Demons. I seem to remember a certain war…”



“Sir,” she said, her voice rising with concern, “You have to believe me, I’m no traitor. I am loyal to our cause.”



“Oh no,” said Baalbatos with a shake of his head, “I’m not doubting you. I know you are loyal to our lord.”



“But sir,” she asked, “What about those who think I’m not?”



“Do not worry, Gouta,” he said, his voice kind and reassuring, “I will not let them say a word against you. You are under my protection. I will not let any harm come to you.”



Baalbatos stepped even closer and place his hands on her shoulders, leaning in and smiling, “Do you trust me?”



“Yes, sir,” she stated with confidence, “With my life.”



“Thank you, Gouta,” he whispered, “I promise you that your trust is well placed.”



And with that, he stepped away from the Brenchian. “Well,” he said with a sigh, “These reports won’t tend to themselves.”



She nodded fervently, “Yes, sir! I’ll leave you to your work!”



And with that, she stepped backwards and out of the room. Before the door slid close, she said one final thing, “Thank you again, sir.”



Baalbatos kept up his smile as the door quietly slid close. When it finally closed, he set to reading the data pad. Poor girl, he thought, she knows not what she is getting into. She knows not, he thought again, who she serves.



But that was the game he played. If they were to succeed, Baalbatos would have to keep up this charade. And not just with Gouta. He would have to entrance millions, billions. Probably even trillions. The universe was vast, he thought, and they deserved all of it. And currently, they had none of it, save the little planet that barely registered on scanners. But Baalbatos was used to humble beginnings. Every empire had to start somewhere. The first king always had to wear a crown of bronze before he could wear one of gold. Lord Qrowen was ambitious, yes, but so was Baalbatos. And damn it, he thought, Baalbatos would try his hardest to get them where they were going.



Now, he thought, to tend to these reports. Income, exports, imports, recruitment…. He was in for a boring read. But someone had to do it. He’d have to do all this before he could finally relax. Truly, there was no rest for the wicked.


Reward Requested: Zeni, please!