Children of Terra

~Eve of the Seventh prince~ ~Inferno~ ~First ring, Limbo~ ~Pruflas, Duke of the First~ It's been days shy of 9 months since the first Goetian concubine, 5 since the second. The King -- with the oracular aid of Pruflas' brothers -- has already decreed the 7th price as Vassago, and the 8th prince as Seir. Further, the demon monarchia are to be summoned to Dis for the birth ceremony of the 7th prince. Pruflas has convened another meet of his council before leaving, where they are gathered now.       He poured a large glass of pomegranate vintage, preparing for the meeting.       "We have to move fast, faster. I didn't think the timescale would accelerate to this point; but I see the allure of power has already gripped my father's heart. Let's get the reports, starting with the worst."       Hector stood. "My lord. Council. It is nearly every day we catch spies and saboteurs from the lower rings. They have taken to murdering humans in rituals, and flooding Acheron with spies from the fresh side as well. I suspect there are already networks in Limbo to serve as weakening points."       Pruflas took a breath. "Expected. My brothers resent the fact I get first picks of the souls. I have the largest stock to work with to boot. How many are in passable shape, Caesar?"       Caesar nodded. "With the help of Hector, Aeneas, and Queen Penthesilia, we have a muster of around 80 legions. Un-blooded of course. 15 legions of combat troops as well. A good mixture of expertise -- Aegyptus archers, Phalanxes of Alexander, Trojan War veterans."       "Good. Good." Pruflas allowed himself a sigh. "I think it's time for the reports on the aether, focusing on practical applications. Plato?"       Plato cleared his throat before speaking. "Lord. There have been promising results in getting humans to pass between rings. The biggest concern in that regard is keeping the demonarchy from learning in the first place. We still have the element of surprise for such purpose."       "It's time to escalate. We need to keep the lower in check. Begin plans B and C. Diogenes and Socrates are on board, yes? They will be crucial in the conversions."       Aristotle spoke. "I believe we are acting in haste, lord. Plan B is reasonable. Converting souls destined for the lower rings is a good move, bolstering us and weakening them. But Plan C has every risk to reveal our hand."       "Yes, it likely will. Which is why we will modify it slightly. Let us plant false narratives in our counter-cynic groups. Let them pass on false messages to the lower rings."       Aristotle stood. "Lord! That would give them casus belli."       Caesar interjected, "Yes, but more importantly, it will give them pause. Force them to sort the false from the true."       Aeneas added, "There is great value in false information flooded to the enemy. Trust me, Aristotle, I know this well."       Pruflas took a swig of his wine, setting the glass down with the authoritative twang. "What is the turnaround time for a legion, Caesar? Now that we have streamlined the inefficiencies?"       "We can build a cohort up from civilians to a passable legionary in roughly a lunar cycle, lord. With the directions of all the generals involved, we make roughly 4 cohorts a month."       There were murmurs from the rest. They hadn't expected the aggressiveness of the war footing.       Pruflas smirked, silencing the council. "And that, my friends, is one of the main reasons the lower rings hate us. The second is I have at my disposal a collection of the most eminent minds humanity has produced. Seneca and Cicero make quite the barons in my leave. And third is I exhibit likely the least demonic traits of my kindred. Euclid, do you have any postulates on that?"       Euclid remained motionless in his lounge, but he did speak: "Only one that fits, lord. You had a human grandmother, yes? And the mother was half-succubus? There must have been a trait in the matriarchal bloodline. No other pattern seems to work through. Each of your brothers has a different sire-mother, leaving the human element as the proof."       Pruflas thought in silence. He never knew his human ancestors; they were killed a long time ago. The only grace for him was the perceived potential of a mage. That soured quick as his personality began to show -- and he was banished to the 1st ring once they gave up.       He looked up at his council again. "Things are going well here, given circumstance. I will now depart for the ceremony of the 7th prince. Fair winds to you all. Dismissed."       Metile once again came up to him after the office was empty. "Must you go?"       "Yes, sweet. Not doing so is akin to declaring open war. We should drag this out as long as possible. The side that believes in foregone victory the most, desires a quick resolution."       She pouted, Pruflas standing to take her soft lips in response. He whispered in her ear of their earlier promise, before leaving for the Capitol Dis. ~From the 1st to 6th ring~ There were as many demon nobles in Dis as Pruflas had ever seen. He could tell their disdain from body language; but openly he was the Ducal firstborn, and he acted to make them submit with every petty interaction. Their resentment only made him smirk.       He made his way to the reception hall, which had been converted in ceremony for the arrival of the 7th prince. Sytry was preening with as many demonettes as he could -- as usual. The others were interspersed among the crowds, in their flocks of supplicating fools. Pruflas knew that his standing was thin; ever since they pinned the accusation of trying to free Lucifer on him, and using that as an excuse to go down and no doubt weaken the binds he placed firstly.       That was troubling, but Pruflas already discussed the ramifications through. It was determined as long as the souls stayed aside during the inevitable retribution crusade; only demons and sinners of the deep rings were in the crosshairs.       He used thaumaturgy to eavesdrop on servants going about the hall, determining Vassago wasn't to be expected for another day. Promptly leaving to the prince quarters, Pruflas decided to continue his personal research alone in his own suite.       It was mostly about the influx of Saxons and Anglia. Their magia naturalis. Such a fascinating harness upon the aether. Pruflas was a believer that any of the aether-derivatives could be reconciled with enough breakthroughs in fundamentals. He specifically devoted time in transfiguration magics -- the kind that changed physical forms of the intended. By what basis can a body gain humours from aether?       On and on this went . . .       . . . Pruflas had so absorbed in his research, studying anatomical reports and surveys, he failed to detect the increase in fervor outside his room. It was only when a massive wave of nausea hit, along with the muted sounds of raucous shouts through the walls did he stop. He pulled a chamber pot aside to vomit in it before staggering into the hallway. This miasma! It felt . . . repugnant. Hand along the wall, he pulled himself into the reception hall, whereupon he saw two main things.       Upon the throne was a demon he didn't recognize. A many eyed demon. But all around were the monarchia kneeling before him -- Pruflas even seeing his brothers at the fore.       A movement stirred as Pruflas looked, stunned, through the now-ebbing miasma; he could see in the arms of the demon a winged child. Wings. The aura from the child. Pruflas looked at the demon, who now looked at him squarely, a cold smile breaking out on the many-eyed face.       "Ah, late again, Pruflas? Welcome your newest brother, Vassago."       The hall was still, quiet. The demon spoke again, "His mother didn't survive. No matter. Her last essence along with Vassago's birth led to my ascendance. Come Pruflas, get a look at him."       Pruflas was sweating from the exposure, he broke from the wall in a stagger, before collapsing into a heap within the crowd of the kneeling demons. The demon looked at him with a gleam in the eyes, measuring, assigning worth. He rose the child high, declaring: "Praise the 7th prince and swear allegiance to your new king, Beelzebub."       Bael? . . . Beelzebub? Pruflas got onto one knee, grunting as the demons around raised their arms and hymning their allegiances.       This was a new development, one he hadn't expected. It showed clearly one major fact: demons could metamorphose with sufficient aether suffusion.