Id the Impulsive, 8457th of His Name, entered his main audience chamber. Sidestepping around very short furniture, sized for the majority of his subjects and staff, he approached the Grand Council Table. The other tables were also sized for the nice folk that bordered his kingdom. He hoped to invite them inside soon, though there were council members who were not yet convinced.
The King paused at the center of the table. It rose to his waist, and six of its giant chairs were empty this morning. The King waited for any sign of recognition from the figure seated at the far end. The young man was hunched forward, his hood pulled low, engrossed by the moving images playing in the charmed ruby held cupped in his hands. King Id could only approve, but the young man was also ignoring his morning bowl, barely touched, of a half-ton of shredded wheat cereal.
The King was irked, but was not surprised. In these recent times of plenty, it could be easy to forget that such a feast was completely unknown once, before the comet pierced the Veil between kingdoms. That visitor had crossed the skies only once, in his more youthful days when he was Prince Id. Since that time, his dynasty’s infertile Blasted Lands had begun to lose their charm, with so much color bursting on the hills over the wall. He knew that his flock was slowly growing restless.
Unacknowledged, the King sighed and turned to his end of the Grand Council Table and its pale white throne. The histories said that Id the 521st himself carved this throne out of the seam of quartz in this far side of the cave. He settled into his smooth seat and his mood brightened. Today, the kitchens had decorated the royal bowl of grains with several of the bushes the Humans called trees, brimming with fresh fruit. He raised his spoon in anticipation, when he was distracted by the click of a small door and movement in his peripheral vision.
A tiny person glided across the floor of the audience chamber, past their own seat at the head of the small tables, to the feet of his King. Id’s closest advisor Belial enjoyed wearing a cloak of living flame when he could. The black fire barely reached as tall as the heel of the royal sleeping slipper in front of him. Belial called forth a mystical sonic funnel. His liege was seated, but the royal ears were still nearly 20 meters overhead. Belial said, “My King, good morning.”
Id placed his spoon down. “What is it?” Today was a national holiday in the empire, the anniversary of the comet’s visit, a day for his subjects to gather at the border wall and party with a view of the other side. The audience chamber was supposed to be empty this morning, a short peace before the royal entourage was obliged to join the wall feasts.
“The Humans have left another offering at the gate, sire,” grumbled Belial.
The King shifted in his throne and peered down, his green eyes dancing with torchlight. “So soon?” The custom had begun soon after the Veil had lifted, an extravagant exchanging of gifts in the days leading up to the Day of the Comet. The Humans seemed to enjoy this as much as his own people, for the exuberance of that gift-giving had only grown in scale over the years.
“Yes, sire,” said Belial, echoing off the cave ceiling. “Never before on the Day itself, I might add, and they were more generous than yesterday.”
“The same mix?”
“The same and more, sire. The main pen housed 500 more of these horse beasts, and there were twice as many piles of grain and wood left behind.”
The King nodded. More wood meant more nighttime bonfires in the Wastelands, in his name. The royal family now had at least four more meals of the curious plants in front of him. And, the horse was most useful of all to his realm. He recently quelled a rebellion of Stone Men by swapping some of their rank with the Human’s favorite pack animal. No longer chained to the Great Wheel, the Stone Men were over eager on the subject of care for their replacements. They will be pleased to learn that more were coming.
“How is the animal husbandry project faring?”
“Casualties are down thirty percent, sire.”
“Well, keep working on that. And, have our neighbors befriended the hellhounds we gave them, then?”
Belial nodded. “The bats report that those crates were taken to a remote island, where all is now in flames.”
“Good, good. It is a pity that we can not share our traditional food. Does it really kill any Human who touches it?” The King blinked. “You said, there was more today?”
“Sire, a second pen contained twenty Humans. The wailing in unison is glorious. We can bring them along today on your visit to the wall, so that you may also enjoy their song.”
“A cultural exchange? Splendid! We can send Prince Rafael the Bleak to one of their institutions of higher learning.”
A hiss arose from the far end of the Grand Council Table. “Dad, I told you to call me Raf the Sullen. Gosh!”
As Belial floated to a safe distance, the King sprang to his feet, shifting the table hard enough to knock over a crystal goblet. “You will not use that language in my presence!”
Ambient light drained from the room as Raf the Sullen stood up. Their hiss rose to a cacophony of a thousand fingernails on chalkboards. “You will never understand me! Am I so weird that you wish to banish me amongst the Humans? Fine, perhaps I will smash your precious gate on my way out.” Shadows waned, until Id and Belial were alone in the audience chamber.
The King sat back down and ate for a few moments in silence. His advisor approached more cautiously this time, sweeping his hood back. Black flame extinguished to reveal a square stone head. Belial said, “Sire.”
He laid his spoon down once more and laughed. “The heir, as usual, is correct. My friend, there is no true barrier between our realms, not any more. Why should there be?”
“Sire?”
“We shall visit in person, to repay the Humans with a treaty between equals!”
The parade to the wall – its gate already broken as promised, good lad – grew in size with their King leading the way. Raf’s journey must have foretold today’s historic meeting of two kingdoms. His vanguard of demons flew directly into a line of Human horseless metal carriages. Each carried a payload of heavy ordnance, a demon’s preferred snack. Id the Impulsive hoped he knew how best to return the favor soon.
The cute, tiny, little Human capital city was already within sight.