Never before had Lark been too far out of Birdscall or the City of Tears, let alone out of his home country, so this was exciting. 

The capital of the Torchlands, a city of predominantly demons and the epicenter of art and music and science. Within was a monarchy that had been ruling for thousands of years unquestioned, because they were loved or because it was status quo people could argue about for ages; all depending on who you asked.

Tingling with anticipation, Lark followed Delilah through the train station.

People passed by through the hustle and bustle of all different heights and hues, adorned with horns and wings and tails. Some were feathered or furred and some had scales, some were almost entirely human while others looked like bipedal beasts that smiled all sharp teeth. Beautiful and ugly and all in between and so wonderful. 

Black volcanic stone bricks were the main form of building structure and streetlights of blue flames went down the sidewalks, electricity nonexistent everywhere you looked. A complete absence of vehicles more strict than the City of Tears left ample room for multitudes of gardens blooming with strange flora that literally glowed with pulsing light. Colorful walkways of solar glass, shops and kiosks selling this and that with bright banners blowing in the wind. Everywhere there were more banners full of color and intricate patterns. All were unique and varying levels of age.

The brightness of the cloth contrasted against the landscape of black stone made into tall buildings and castle-like pillars, making it pop like a painting.

It had Lark circling in place to stare in awe, impressed by it all.

He was used to smaller rustic homes and mountains, surrounded by green. Not to mention more space. The buildings were even closer together than the City of Tears but it had a sort of… comfortable elegance to it, like the train. There were no tall trees here to make way for tall spires where strange birds perched, turning the skyline into a mouth of fangs. 

A tap on his shoulder and Lark saw Delilah beaming at him.

The way his grin softens his eyes… Always charming. It makes you need another moment to catch up to the rest of the world.

“Ah… I’m sorry.” Lark felt sweat form on the back of his neck.

Delilah chided him. “Oh, please. It’s quite the sight, ain’t it?”

“There’s so much… vibrancy?”

Patting him on the back Delilah eagerly nods.

“Exactly! I prefer it so much more than the stuffy Cathedral with its strict color scheme.”

Lark, still hungry, remembered the peanut butter sandwich. He eats slower than before. “I think the Cathedral is beautiful.”

Rolling her eyes Delilah motions for Lark to follow. “Yeah, sure. When you’ve lived in it all your life I guess it loses its charm.”

Unable to disagree, Lark stayed silent. He looked around as they walked and admired everything. The abundance of greenery surprised him. A glowing light under the sewer grates piqued his curiosity and he bent down to peek into it; intense heat wafted up over his face.

“Is that… Lava?” Shocked, he glanced at some nearby flowers who moved delicately in the breeze as if molten hot metal wasn’t right under their roots. “How is everything not burning up?”

Laughing and glancing at the grate, Delilah pointed at the ground. “Why do you think it's called the Torchlands?”  

He spreads his arm and does a twirl despite being in the middle of the path. “Rivers of magma from our planet's core serpentine up through this continent and create rivers in the Torchlands. It provides them with a lot of power.”

Then he pointed up. “They get all of it from that and the sun. It’s warmer here than up north where the Cathedral is, if you couldn’t tell.”

Lark looks from Delilah to the glowing grate. There’s some glyphs on the stone, signifying enchantments to protect it and keep the burning river below. Understanding, Lark’s uneasiness evaporates. He looks up at the buildings.

They’re tall, dark against the blue sky, lowering in the distance to make way for a castle. Tilting his head, Lark points to it.

“Is that the royal castle? It’s much smaller than I thought.”

Delilah follows the position of Lark’s finger to look where he’s pointing. “Yup. I unfortunately have to leave you at the gates there to fend for yourself.”

He grabs Lark’s wrist and gives it a tight squeeze.

“And don’t say anything funny.”

Holding up his hands defensively, Lark just smiles.

They continue to walk and Lark eats the rest of his lunch, eyes darting around everywhere to soak it all in. Humans and demons coexisting as they had done for so many years; doing business with one another, holding hands, arguing.

The walk up to the castle was pretty, buildings becoming more spread apart and making way for gardens and orchards. Huge areas of trees, grass and flowers where people sat and enjoyed their solitude or the company of others.

“These are the royal gardens. Everyone can use this space which is nice.” Seeming a bit wistful, Delilah looks into the gardens. His smile is gentle. “Sometimes on my rare time off I come here.”

“No one bothers me. Sometimes one of the other Saints comes with me. Ammut, too, when he has time.” He looks back at Lark, suddenly sheepish.

“I’ll invite you next time, ‘kay?”

Lark can only nod and smile.“Okay.”

Quiet the rest of the way despite the serious look growing on Delilah’s face, they’re let through locked gates. Now on official castle grounds, they’re led by an escort to the main gates. A combination baroque and gothic style makes the building look old and cluttered, yet still remaining impressively regal.

Lark thinks the jumbled walls don’t fit the rest of the city but keeps his mouth shut. The foyer is as grand as the rest, with stained glass letting glittering, colored light splash over the marble floors. A line of old glass goes from the door to the main stairs, a flowing river of lava bubbling under foot.

Delilah confidently strides across the hall but is stopped by a tall man in a full suit of gleaming obsidian armor.

“Ah… I’m not allowed in today, aren’t I?” Smiling tiredly Delilah looks up at the man with a sigh. She doesn’t take another step forward.

The man had black hair and skin the color of coal, bright yellow eyes boring into Delilah. There was a serious set to his jaw that reminded Lark of Orimir. A lance held in his hand slanted itself to block Delilah’s path.

“No. Not today, Saint.” Despite the shadowy appearance his voice was smooth and calm, not nearly as stern as expected. Shrugging her shoulders, Delilah spins on her heel. 

Lark hears a “tsk” leave her lips as she passes by him.

“Delilah, what am I supposed to do?”

Frantic, Lark grips the strap of his bag as he realizes Delilah is leaving… He’s sick of being put into all these uncomfortable situations and he didn’t want to lose the one person making his life currently bearable.

Hand to his chin, Delilah grumbles something under his breath. “Ammut has to inspect that is all. Should only take a bit to get approved. He likes to know what’s going on in his city.” Then he sighs. “Ask them to escort you to the Citia church after that, I’ll be there.”

A guard appears to help her out. “Don’t worry about which one because there’s only one!”

Giving him an apologetic look she is then walked out, leaving Lark completely alone. Turning to the armored knight who had stopped her, Lark bows his head a bit though is uncertain what to do. He’s just a farm boy… he has no idea how to interact with people of such high status. Dealing with people from the Cathedral is hard enough but this is royalty.

The knight turns to him, face softening as he addresses Lark. “My apologies. Delilah is a common face with a history of mischief.”

“My name is Eos, I am the knight commander here.” He dipped his head low and Lark wanted to fall into a hole.

“I’m Lark. I’m sorry if I’m… awkward, since this is my first job.” Deciding to be truthful, partly in hopes of getting treated nicer if he was going to be honest, Lark bowed back politely. “You don’t have to bow or anything.”

Eos frowned quite fiercely, lifting an eyebrow.

“Delilah mentioned you have only just woken from your sleep. His highness didn’t take to that news very well.” He mused, gaze somewhere else for a moment.

Lark shook his head. “I feel fine, so please. The sooner I can finish here the sooner I can get training for all of this.”

Eos suddenly laughed, startling Lark and making his shoulders posture defensively. “No filter. Funny. Very well, if you would follow me, Lark.”

Turning with a swish of the deep purple cape he wore he began up the stairs and through another set of doors. Following closely, Lark looked up at the walls they passed, which were adorned with large portraits of past rulers. There were so many of them, all framed in different colored wood with fancy patterns. Noticing Lark’s interest by his slowed gait, Eos started pointing up at them.

“Where the royal bloodline began.” It was an old painting at the start of the line, the colors faded heavily along the edges, of a beautiful demon with long black hair and red eyes. “Older than your religion, her radiance Babil brought peace to human and demon lands.”

He motioned to the background of the painting, where black mist and gaping eyed skulls blended into the fiery landscape. “She put an end to a war with Eldritch creatures we do not know the origin of.”

“So she’s ancient.”

“Very much so.”

Talking about a few of the other ones occupied a surprising amount of Lark’s time but he was too fascinated to urge Eos away from the history. Same as humans there was all matter of rulers. Some who put their people above all and others who hoarded wealth and changed things to suit their own needs. Even so, Eos never made any mention about revolts or civil unrest with any of the kings and queens.

“You’ve never gone to war?” He could almost scoff, finding it so unbelievable in all the time the monarchy had reigned.

Chuckling, Eos stood with his hands resting behind his back. “Demons are very truthful folk and also very easy. We can tell when others of our kind are unscrupulous.” He paused briefly. “Our nature is that of learning and peace.”

“So there’s zero crime?” Not intending for his tone to sound so flat and accusatory, Lark nevertheless didn’t retract his question.

Glancing down at him, Eos’s eyes crinkled.

“They are those who resort to using their strengths as strengths over others, instead of for benefitting all.” A darkness flashed in his eyes while a smile spread over his face. “And so we remind them how unkind their actions are.”

A smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Thus they are reprimanded accordingly.”

The last portrait in the hallway looked brand new, as if painted yesterday. A stern faced demon sat, short red-black hair neatly slicked back. Lark pointed up at it. “So was that the last king? The one who passed away suddenly?”

Eos nodded sadly, dipping his head toward the portrait in reverence. “Yes. That was His highness Osé. He was the first king I served and I never regretted my decision.” Even then his eyes narrowed. “There were some… decisions I fault him for, but those instances are past us now.”

Lark put a hand to the bag across his shoulder. It thrummed more steadily now.

Since both of them were done looking at paintings Eos led Lark to the doors at the end of the hall. They were intricately carved out of white wood blackened by fire. Hieroglyphs of ancient demonic language were painted on every inch but Lark couldn’t read them. He did see images of horned peoples and large figures with strangely shaped masked heads. Rivers of blood red running underneath them towards a large sphere of the planet.

They were beautiful but a bit haunting, age evident in the wood but absent from the vibrancy of the paintings, as if they were made yesterday. A shimmer mixed with the paint made it suddenly obvious it was mixed with material for glyph ink. Lark was captivated.

And then Eos went up to the huge doors and pushed.