When it was time to part ways with their momentary chaperone, Seraphina was unexpectedly rewarded with extra provisions courtesy of his overly friendly wife, who thanked them on account of the reports of thieves who have been plundering the roads as of late and likely might have felt less incentivized to target them with the extra company. Spare blankets, camp equipment, and a generous helping of rations, Seraphina was also offered an old travel bag and replenished it accordingly, adjusting the precarious weight as she clutched the straps for dear life, nodding her thanks to the hospitable couple. After which, she returned to join her unlikely companion uphill while he was busy mapping out the topography, the viewpoint awarding a vast vista of the encompassing woodlands, buttressed by skyscraping trees with bluish-purple foliage.  

“Here, Lady Seraphina. Allow me,” Malphas reaccepted the luggage from her and shouldered it on while motioning toward the extravagant treescape. “This is the Evergreen Grove. It is a bit roundabout admittedly, but until we have safely infiltrated their domain, it might be wiser to maintain a low profile if we can help it for the time being. Bluefield lies just on the other side.” 

“And Bluefield is a witch-friendly town, you said?”  

“It is not nearly as awe-inspiring as Silverwood or Saintridge, but it should have everything we need to prepare for the journey ahead. It is worth a look, at the very least.”  

Internally, the towering treetops blotted the sky, a murky canopy of fulgurating blues and purples. Seraphina meticulously dodged the crooked undergrowth, gnarled brambles and dense thickets sprinkled with ravels of colorful, diverse fungi, some thick and treelike and others comparatively minute, emitting misty spores, cloaking the wood in a shroud of stardust. Troupes of coruscating butterflies darted between the exotic plantae, and Seraphina thought that she noticed pudgy, bug-like entities with leaflike antennae inhabiting the boughs, albeit they ducked behind the verdure when eye contact was attempted.  

“Dryads,” Malphas told her like he had read her thoughts, and given that he had otherwise displayed that he had no qualms about invading her mind, it would not surprise her at all if that was indeed the case. “... They are known as the guardians of the forest. Although timid and generally distrusting of humans, they are also said to be signs of good fortune. There have been anecdotes of mortals befriending the creatures only to subsequently dig up gold in their yard or catch the eye of a distinguished royal.” 

“All-knowing and all-powerful, huh,” Seraphina assumed and interviewed the demon as she clasped her chin ruminatively. “So, what can you tell me about the Demon Realm, then?”  

A thoughtful smirk played on his lips. “Ah, trying to unearth my weaknesses, aren’t you?”  

“I just want to know what I’m working with, that’s all.”  

“Sly girl. I should make a mental note to be wary around you; I can already tell that you are the perceptive sort. If I’m careless, I might just be the one who ends up on the other end of your dagger,” Malphas studied as he ducked an amused chuckle behind his hand. “... But I suppose it would be counterproductive to leave you in the dark. While I am not liable to unleash Hell’s darkest, most infernal secrets out into the wild... for the sake of preserving my own integrity, at least... But I’ll toss you a bone, sure. Any burning questions?” 

“Well... when I initially summoned you, you appeared in the form of this huge monster,” Seraphina outstretched her hands for further emphasis. “Can you still do that? Or are we limited to just land travel at this moment in time?”  

“I am not an airship, first and foremost. Secondly, if the idea is to not blow our cover, I like to think that my true form would only end up garnering undesired attention if the general populace happens to catch sight of a giant hellbeast wading through the skies. We’re currently on the Consortium’s wanted list, after all; I doubt I will be able to safely utilize my powers again to their full extent until we’re in the clear... However, what truly embarrasses me is that you remember that. I was awfully barbaric,” a wave of pink suffused his cheeks as the demon busied himself with neatening his bangs. “... I try not to resort to such... violent methods if I can abstain from it. It isn’t good for my image.” 

“A sophisticated gentleman, are you? Not what I’d expect from a demon.”  

“We aren’t all brainless monstrosities, for your information.”  

“Still,” Seraphina clicked her tongue as unintentional disappointment crept into her voice. “... That’s a real bummer.”  

Malphas glanced at her as concern flashed across his scarlet eyes. “Elaborate, mistress?”  

She whistled not-so-innocently as she gracefully vaulted over a deracinated root. “Nothing, nothing.”  

“... Your abnormal preferences continue to bewilder me. But,” Malphas cleared his throat and soothed out any such knots of disquietude. “... You should know that the boundary between the Witch Realm and the Inferno is thin, which is why we live with the witches in a tentative coexistence. There are some demons who prefer to plant their roots topside outside of those affiliated with established pacts, and there are multiple subcategories that encompass a vast catalog of reputable heathens and creatures of trickery. But archdemons like myself typically monitor the Nine Levels of the Inferno, and we are treated like the... cream of the crop per se, indistinguishable from mortal royalty. I hail from the deepest layer, known as “Treachery,” alongside my former master, as historians allege that I have been at the epicenter of... mass tragedy, pestilence, subjugation, slaughter... but if you can trust my words, the last time I willingly left my post was well over five hundred years ago. But these rumors pester me even amidst the company of my own kindred, accusing me of murdering and scheming my way up the ladder to plot myself right next to the Infernal throne.”  

“... Your poor reputation isn’t going to come back to bite us later down the line, is it?”  

“Depends. Denying my rightful inheritance is one thing, but many of my kin are currently vying for that aforementioned seat... although we do in fact treat our oaths with meticulous care, demons are... if left to their own devices, disloyal at their cores... So, it goes without saying that there has been a severe dearth of petitions endorsing the return of their king. It would be easy to simply let the children wrangle among themselves and see who ultimately prevails, but... it wouldn’t necessarily sit well with me, I’m afraid. The general rules of monarchy are also upheld below; therefore, it should be a diplomatic and unbiased process rather than a test of might. Lacking a rational authority means that the foundation will inevitably disentangle at the seams and precipitate anarchy... and mismanagement is exactly what begot the downfall of Silverwood.”  

“It sounds like you have your work cut out for you, then. A job in Hell is like a typical nine-to-five, huh? That’s kind of silly,” Seraphina laughed airily as hands raised to interlace behind her head.  

“... I understand being rational, but my position does not seem to daunt you in the slightest.”  

“I haven’t exactly known you long enough to form a definitive opinion yet. And besides, the reality is that I surely would have died back there had it not been for your intervention,” she insinuated. “... And while I can’t say that I’m renowned for my modesty… I don’t like feeling indebted to someone. And from a personal perspective,” Seraphina hopped onto a dislodged log and balanced atop as she extended her arms. “... I’m curious about you.”  

Malphas blinked owlishly, eyeballing the girl as if she had spontaneously spouted a second head. “... You’re... curious?”  

“I didn’t stutter, did I? I’m curious,” she leaped down with the flexibility of a cat. After which, Seraphina crossed her hands behind her person as she sauntered up into the demon’s breathing space and forced him to look down; his vampiric countenance dolloped in rutilant, stray sunspots. “... As we established, I have a good eye for character... and I have a sinking suspicion that if I follow this path, you’re going to lead me to interesting places, Ser Demon... so long as it isn’t back home for you, of course. I’m not really ready to be tortured for an eternity... actually, what does Hell look like?”  

Malphas was seemingly stunned silent by her audacity, and it took him a good few moments to reacclimate before he unforeseeably burst into a peal of uncharacteristically loud laughter, which in turn astounded Seraphina as she watched him momentarily retreat, pointedly looking off to the side and attempting to mask his amusement, head ducked. “Oh, goodness,” he expelled a tear from his eye, then straightened out the lapels of his coat. “You are... as I suspected, I do not believe that our meeting could be chalked down to a simple stroke of serendipity.”  

Seraphina did not flinch when a pale hand wended through her hair briefly, petting her before reaching around to slide her dislodged hood back in place. Malphas then readjusted the straps of the overloaded bag and continued ahead, leaving the girl in a temporary stupor before she kicked herself out of it and hurried after him.  

“... By the way, what is that strange rectangular device you had on your person?” 

“My smartphone? Ah, presumably such technology has yet to make waves here in your world,” Seraphina extracted said gadget and clicked it on, causing Malphas to squint when the screen spat intense light. “I don’t have any reception here, imaginably enough, but you can use it to contact other people... or scroll social media if you don’t have anything better to do with your life,” while rotting in your bed, isolated and alone reading fanfiction, she decidedly left out.  

Malphas chewed over her words thoroughly. “I see... and what is social media?”