Page 23 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

“It was your card key used to embed the virus into our system.”

“Virus?” Walter squirmed at the podium. “What virus?”

“The one you laced within an intricate incantation so you could raid the archives,” the vanguard chancellor said. “Many of the artifacts stolen were either personally handled by you, or we found logs of you snooping and researching these stored possessions despite you having no access or privileges.”

“Are you joking?” I snapped. “He’s an overworking know-it-all nerd who spends all day and night researching useless drivel. Of course, Walter looked up the artifacts he wasn’t supposed to. He likes jerking it to knowledge.”

“Someone silence that thing,” the vanguard chancellor said.

A vanguard practitioner approached, materializing an iron mouth gag to bar between my teeth.

“Try it, and I’ll kill you.”

“He won’t.” Walter grabbed the podium, pleading. “He hasn’t. He hasn’t killed anyone. Well, not since his accidental release from the orb. Except the mage he’s possessing. But he was one of them who infiltrated the Magus Estate. Not that I’m condoning the death, any death—no one should die. Ever. That said, Bez…eelabub hasn’t harmed anyone aligned with our Collective. I won’t let him. I promise.”

Ah, fuck me. Had he realized how to trigger commands? I searched his pasty face, unable to find a hint of pink or reddened skin. He wasn’t lying, so either he’d figured out how to control me, or he truly believed he could and would stop me by any means.

“Please step away from the devil.” The archivist chancellor raised a hand, waving the eager vanguard back. I bit the air, a not-so-subtle reminder of what I’d do if he attempted to silence me. After a half century with no voice, I refused to allow anyone to confine me to silent isolation again. “The allegations against Mr. Alden are severe, and I understand Chancellor Driscoll’s desire to resolve this devastating attack, but I’d like to raise the question on how we handle this devil.”

“Simple,” the vanguard chancellor Driscoll—more like Dickhole—said. “We seal it once more.”

“With what artifact?” the archivist chancellor asked.

Right. Their vault had been raided. I doubted they even possessed any other relics powerful enough to contain a Diabolic.

“Walter’s Diabolic binding presents us a unique opportunity,” the archivist chancellor continued. “We’ve never had the chance to speak with or learn from lesser demon Diabolics, let alone hear from a devil itself. This could offer us more knowledge than—”

The artisan chancellor dismissed the archivist with a curt gesture. “Out of the question. If we cannot contain it, we should kill it.”

“Devils don’t die,” the youngest of the chancellors said. “And we wouldn’t know the risks to Wally… Mr. Alden.”

“Devils don’t die from what we know,” the last of the chancellors said, a cloaked man who led the infiltration regiment. Those who spied on everyone. Humans who learned too much. Mythics who didn’t abide by neutrality. Mages who didn’t toe the line of the system in place. Diabolics who dared to enter this world. They were a regiment of whispers and stalking and death. “I’ve found many misfit mages similar to the one before us who’ve bonded with a demon. When the misfit mage is slain, the demon in question shares the death.”

Walter, a misfit mage? They’d do anything to sell their reasoning. I flexed my biceps, testing the limitations of the chains wrapped around me from head to toe.

“We can’t seriously be having this conversation. We’re not executing Wally.” The panacea chancellor stood, slamming her palms on her bench revealing her close connection to Walter.

“We can’t very well allow a devil to roam freely,” the sentinel chancellor rebutted. So much for recusing herself. “I believe Chancellor Strome makes a valid point. We need to consider all the options. Our magus is dead. There is a group who has waged a war against us, and we have no idea who they are, what they want, or what move they’ll make next. And now, we have a devil in our midst.”

“I’d like a private conversation with Walter Alden about this organization before any further discussion on whether the execution is necessary. If granted, I may find those answers.” The infiltration chancellor eyed the trembling Walter, his gaze hidden by a hood, but the change in his stance spoke of an intent to have more than words with my worried mage. “As you said, the fuse to a war has been lit, and I’d like to know who ignited it.”

That was likely the thing grating his nerves most here. All of them, in fact. Each of these regiments held their dignity based on the roles they served. The vanguard eliminated violence by hunting it down. The sentinels protected the ‘innocent’ against enemy attacks. The infiltration snuffed out threats before they ever became dangerous. These three in particular had utterly failed in their duties. As such, Walter became their scapegoat. Nothing he said or didn’t say would change that fact. None of this was in his control because the six most powerful mages in this region had to save face and prove their authority. Killing a devil would help make a strong impression.

But I wouldn’t be dragged further into mage politics. Whether Walter understood how to command me or not, he had to realize staying meant certain death.

There were eighteen vanguard practitioners and sixteen sentinel practitioners surrounding me. Six chancellors who each exemplified the highest level of expertise in their regiment, though, it was debatable how much skill in practice they held versus politics. Either way, four were well past their prime: vanguard, sentinel, artisan, archivist. The panacea chancellor was young, so either she possessed exceptional casting skills, or she’d navigated the mage world well. The only real threat came from the infiltration chancellor. They were the deadliest regiment, ruthlessly slaughtering anything opposing the mage and Mythic alliance or the hierarchy mages had sat themselves atop.

I unleashed my Diabolic wings and tail to assist in shattering these chains. The pale gray of my tail caught the eye of several mages who I tripped before they could cast. My wings were thinner than normal, dark gray and naked without feathers. I groaned. Unfortunately, my body hadn’t fully healed.

I couldn’t risk unleashing my other Diabolic features either. Too much and this host body might split apart, and since my true form remained mostly broken after so long trapped inside that orb, I couldn’t risk losing this meatsuit.

“Contain Beelzebub!”

Walter turned, doe-eyed little fool, mouth already moving. Everything stilled. Mana. Magic. Spells. I wouldn’t be able to maintain this hyper flexed speed long given the energy I’d need to break through that fortified iron door. Leaping around a half dozen magical strikes, I evaded the frenzy and lunged on top of Walter.

He tumbled back, taking me with him to the floor. “Bez, sto—”

“Shut the hell up.” I slapped a hand over his mouth. Couldn’t have him uttering some accidental command that’d get us both killed.

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