Slumrat Rising - Vol. 3 Chap. 70 A Man Without Compassion

The Prince appeared without warning. The supposedly locked door to Mary’s Garden opened, the recording talismans unable to capture his radiance. Tall, hair the color of a moonless night, eyes like black wells with drifting golden stars in the depths.

Dressed in exquisite yet casual clothing that clung to his tall, perfectly proportioned frame. Muscular without being grotesque, he was violence and sensuality made flesh. The Prince was entirely failing to keep with the softer, more androgynous standards of masculine beauty in Jeon. And he didn’t care at all. He looked like a descended god. Most of the staff were succubae. They knew whereof they spoke.

The desk clerk was, however, all too mortal and, as a lowly desk clerk, a mere Level Two. The black and white tiles made no sound as the Prince approached. The dreamy torches in their flickering, multicolored firelight did as they were supposed to and made the lobby more dreamlike and unreal. A perfect backdrop for the all too real man in front of him.

“Provide me with your best room and service,” The Prince commanded.

“I am so sorry! As we didn’t know the Young Master was visiting Conjin, we failed to reserve the room for you. It. It is currently occupied.” The clerk reflexively bowed in apology, hating whoever failed to prepare adequately for this lord’s arrival.

“Oh? By whom?” Young Master? The clerk would pay for that.

“We cannot reveal…” The clerk gasped, the compulsions in his employment contract at war with his sense of self-preservation. The ice was more than just cracking under his feet. The cracks were spreading wide.

“No matter. They will sleep elsewhere.” The clerk almost collapsed. The succubus by his side didn’t even glance at their coworker, seemingly fascinated by the floor near Truth’s feet.

“I… can send a messenger. Ask them to meet the Young Master.”

“No. I do not make requests.” He released a trickle of his power and killing intent, filling the lobby. Pressing his absolute authority upon the room. He was the only real thing in it. His will was the only law. The succubae around the lobby dropped to their knees, pressing their heads against the floor. The clerk collapsed bonelessly, unable to endure the pressure of the sheer difference in status. A ghost before a hero.

Truth looked down at the succubus. “You will provide one of your kin as a servant for my stay here. They will attend to me and only me. You, on the other hand-” He reached down, pulled the demon’s head up by the hair, and drew a quick sigil on the demon’s forehead. He did so while suppressing its bindings with a minor effort. They were nothing special. He overwrote them in seconds. The succubus shivered in pleasure.

“Your job is simple. You will take this thing,” he pointed at the paralyzed clerk, “and teach it to fear everyone and everything it ever loved or desired. In turn, it will only and forever desire to serve me in all ways. That will be its only pleasure.”

“Gladly, oh Prince, and at once.” Another succubus appeared next to the first, both on their knees, heads pressed to the floor.

He pointed to the second one. “Assume the form of a maid, classically trained in all domestic services. Attractive, but not too beautiful.” It shifted form, adopting the guise instructed. “Guide me to the best room. Ensure housekeeping is standing by. Inform the kitchen that I require dinner. The specialty of the house. No wine, they are to display their value by crafting an alcohol-free drink to complement the meal.”

“As you command, my Prince.” It rose with the smooth, boneless grace its kind was known for. The face was symmetrical, with a small nose and wide eyes, a faint dash of freckles somehow highlighting the vivid green of the eyes. No blushing beauty, but the longer you looked at “her,” the more sweetness you found in all the little details. The slim feminine shape of “her.” You found yourself wanting to see that hidden, fearful look in “her” eyes. The more you wanted to hunt the vixen like a pack of dogs, right to the ecstatic end.

Truth understood why succubae were so popular and so lethal. He’d seen beauties before. This was just one more. He handed his bag to another servant and walked behind the maid deeper into Mary’s Garden.

The hotel was a place of rest for those whose slumber was too restless or whose dreams had become too dark. The hotel was a converted multi storey townhouse with a large, open spiral stair running up three stories. Coral and sea anemones grew along the balustrades and the walls as glittering fish swam through the air, and dancing seaweed lent its texture and color to the whole. Off the stairs were hallways, each likewise decorated as the dream of a tropical reef, with so many wonderful nooks and crannies to explore for their happy little mysteries.

The maid led him to a double door painted red and framed with twisting kelp. The succubus opened the doors without knocking. An older couple, perhaps husband and wife, were sitting together over a light meal. Level Four, no pins, no sense of authority to them. Irrelevant.

“The Prince requires this suite. Leave at once.” The succubus spoke with calm authority.

“And just who the Hell-” Truth fixed the man with his eye, already seeing how these two would die. The inevitability of death settled over the room. Like an inescapable sickness or the moment of lucidity between the window breaking and the body reaching the pavement. Like the judge’s sentence in sight of the gallows. Death was coming, and they had just enough life left to fear how ugly their end would be.

They got up and silently left, nearly vomiting when they saw the housekeeping cart come bustling towards their room.

“With my Lord’s permission, I will have his leg broken for his impertinence and charge all your expenses to him.”

“See to it.”

The succubus snapped twice. Truth didn’t see any more movement, but he knew it would be enough. He waved in the housekeeping team.

The succubae swept into action. Air demons swirling around them to consume any filth left behind by the previous guests. Bedbugs were simply not a thing that could exist in a hotel purified by air demons. Sheets were stripped and tossed in a hamper, then fresh sheets fitted with a surgeon’s precision. The surfaces were polished. They were marvelously efficient.

Truth sat in an armchair and enjoyed a foot massage while the room was returned to order. The luggage and personal effects of the previous occupants were collected. He didn’t care what the hotel did with them so long as they were out of the room.

The succubus was very good at what it was doing. His feet had never felt so relaxed. This was sheer indulgence. Perhaps he had earned it after all that running and sleeping in the woods. He smiled. The housekeepers and air demons suppressed shudders at the happy cruelty of his expression. They weren’t shuddering out of fear.

More than the massage. More than the luxurious room and the good food to come. It was the terror. It was the obedience born of fear and worship. Jeon had bred deference to power into the bones of its people. No drug could be better than this. He would have to keep an eye on himself. Wouldn’t do to overindulge, even in the City of Dreaming Waters.

This persona was going to be a problem. It was too easy. Too comfortable. And he intended to inhabit it for a few days, or however long it took Merkovah to set up a secure line of communication. The world was hard at work, reinforcing his assumed identity. He would have to mind himself that it didn’t become real. More real. Didn’t become the “real” him. Ah Hell.

>

I know, I know. But come on-

>

Truth lolled his head back. There was a long stretch of quiet.

Did you… have a follow-up to that? A caution against arrogance, perhaps, or a reminder that Etenesh would be more than hurt if I were to bed some plaything? Even if they meant nothing to me? That I’m being a hypocrite?

>

You want me to keep doing this?

>

Oddly, it was that which snapped him out of his decadent spiral. He had been ignoring the Tongue and Etenesh’s fragment inside of him. The angelic sword seemed to approve, but the fragment of Etenesh’s warmth and goodness was radiating disapproval. Split decision. He’d have to balance his own desires against those of the women in his life. He could ease off on the sadism while maintaining the domineering attitude. Although it had to be acknowledged- some people won’t cry until they see their coffin. A degree of cruelty is required.

In the meantime, he had nowhere in particular to be. He elected to enjoy the massage, learn some things, and make Etenesh a happy woman the next time he laid hands on her. Dinner would come soon, then sleep. A busy and productive day. A tiny trickle of worry ran down his spine.

“I don’t keep track- how long until Jeon adopts the System?”

“About a week, my lord, before the first public enrollment. Eight days, including today, though there have been significant delays in some places due to terrorism and accidents. I believe that, for people of a certain status, early enrolment is possible. For a reasonable gift or simply a favor owed. For my Prince, I am certain that your mere whim would be reason enough to have you enrolled at your convenience.” The succubus’ voice was soft, deferential.

Truth snorted at that. His whim would certainly suffice. They would happily make a special trip just for him.

Nothing more was said until dinner. The Succubus knew its place and was very happy there.

Dinner was four courses. The dinner’s theme was “Joy at the Seaside.” It started with a little rack of miniature ice cream cones, topped with a salmon mousse. It sounded mad. It tasted delightful. He found himself wishing there was one more bite of it, but the second course arrived before he could order another set. This was a small flight of oysters paired with fish eggs and some garnishes. Another dish where he couldn’t see the point, and it staggered him. It was so incredibly good he didn’t have anything to compare it to. This was simply food on an entirely new level.

The oysters were followed by butter-poached lobster, and for dessert, coffee ice cream and a doughnut. Each plate was sized to be just short of enough by itself. He finished the meal feeling comfortably full but thinking back on each dish. Wishing he could have had just one more bite. He smiled once he saw the joke. He would dream happily of this meal, if he ever dreamed. Each course was paired with a non-alcoholic cocktail. He hadn’t the faintest clue what was in them, but they were a lovely counterpoint to each plate.

He looked up at the sweating chef who had accompanied the cart to his room. “Inform the kitchen that they have done well. I will entrust my meals to them for my stay.” She almost collapsed, bowing and thanking him profusely. He waved her away. He heard the maid murmuring something about “lucky swine” as “she” guided the chef out the door.

The shower was all he hoped it would be. He contemplated having the succubus bathe him, but it would likely be too much. Fed, refreshed and generally content, he went to bed.

“My Prince, is there any further service you require before retiring? Or after?”

Truth was slightly tempted to ask for a dream, but that really was too stupid. “No. Stand at attention outside the bedroom door, and wait to be summoned.” The demon left, and he closed his eyes. It had been a lousy few days, but this one had turned out nice.

The hotel settled in for the night. The desk clerk was hidden in a tiny box in the basement, locked in dreams of erotic torment and animal terror. The succubus maid was happily minding the door, ready to keep away the less sensible of its kin. The System was puzzling out how to adapt all the various body cultivation spells they had found to the Meditations. Truth slept dreamlessly.

His nous gave a tiny shake.