While Bakura stared at the trembling figure, he heard a familiar voice cry out to him.

"Bakura? What's going- wait, is that the angel?! What the hell happened?!" Marik's pitch rose as he took in the whole gory scene.

Bakura gave a quick explanation of what he'd witnessed. The other demon nodded soberly, before wordlessly walking up to the trembling angel. Bakura watched in bafflement as his ally suddenly unfurled his large wings. Demons rarely let their wings out unless they were planning to fly- or wanted to intimidate an enemy. But incredibly, Marik sat down next to the scared angel. He shifted his arms, and his wings followed the movement. The dark, leathery appendages slowly wrapped their way around both the tanned demon and the pale angel.

Bakura could just faintly hear Marik saying something in an unusually soft voice. It sounded like he was comforting the heavenly being.

Several minutes went by, and slowly, very slowly; Marik's gentle murmuring trailed off, only to be replaced with Ryou's light snoring.

"What..."

"Shhh." Marik interrupted his old friend. One of his wings shifted slightly, and Bakura saw that the angel was indeed, fast asleep in his crazed friend's arms.

The normally loud fiend kept his voice at a whisper. "He'll heal faster, now that he's asleep. But he should still have someone look after those wounds."

Bakura peered down in disbelief. "Marik, how-?"

"That's how angels comfort one another. They wrap their wings around each other and speak softly."

"But how the hell did you know-"

"Shhh!" Marik covered the furious caretaker's mouth with one palm. "Don't wake him! I'll carry him back up to his room in a few minutes."

"..." Unsure how to handle things, the smaller fiend glanced away in disbelief. 'S***... I let this happen... dammit!' His crimson eyes closed for a moment, but his inner reflection was soon thwarted when he heard a familiar, metallic sound coming near.

Bakura nearly groaned as he saw two armored guards approaching them from the open end of the alley. The shorter stooge he didn't know, but the taller fiend wore a grin of barely-concealed delight.

"Bakura." The lankier guard smirked as he addressed the other warrior. His low bangs of dark-green hair didn't quite cover his dancing, maroon eyes.

"Balthem." Bakura retorted shortly. He could guess why a personal messenger of the king was here, but he knew that this particular fiend would take great pleasure in drawing things out.

Sure enough, Balthem took a long, slow glance at the overall scene. To be fair, it was quite an impressive sight. Rubbish boxes were overturned and broken; two silver knives lay forgotten in the upturned gravel; several small puddles of blood were splattered about; and then there was Marik, still wrapped around the now-unconscious cherub.

"Tsk- tsk. What a mess." The emerald-maned demon snorted as he watched Bakura's expression turn from irate to enraged. "Hmm, I suppose it's rather apparent; but our king wishes to speak with you in the throne room. NOW."

Evidently Balthem was taking great pleasure in ordering about the (normally) higher-ranked warrior. Demonic society had a few positions where other skills (namely, intellect and speed) were most valued; but generally a king's court was ranked by physical strength. The only exceptions being his advisor/s and long-distance messengers.

But now, Bakura's own standing might be in jeopardy- a fact that Balthem was deeply relishing. The two hot-tempered fiends had clashed several times in their youth, and not always in mentor-sanctioned fights. Those battles were clearly unforgiven by the pair, even in the present day.

"I see." Bakura gave a tense nod, trying not to give his old rival any satisfaction as he replied, "then I suppose I can find my way there." He made to move for the grimy scullery door, when he found his way blocked by both the guards.

Balthem's grin widened as he gestured to his partner. "Oh, never fear- we shall gladly escort you straight to his majesty. After all, we wouldn't want you getting lost, now would we?"

Bakura gave one last glance at Marik and his charge before turning back to the smarmy messenger. "Of course not- after all, you're clearly wearing new chain-mail; we certainly don't need to swing by the alchemy lab and see if any of your old armor still remains!"

The pale warrior was pleased to see his rival's facade drop ever-so-slightly- evidently Balthem still remembered the time Bakura had stolen his training armor and melted it down inside a magically-enhanced caldron. Their year's sword-training instructor had punished him for losing the expensive materials...

"Tch... we'll see if you're even declared fit to weave chain-mail after the king gets through with you!" The irritated courier hissed at his now-pleased adversary.

"Sure, sure- lead the way, 'messenger.'" Bakura felt his nerve returning to him as he was led through the castle towards the throne room. Nothing more was said as they wove through the stone corridors, although a passing guard did explain that Marik had brought the angel up to his 'guest' room.

'At least that's settled-' Bakura let out a sigh he didn't realize he'd been holding in. 'Still, looks like I owe that bronzed clod a few drinks the next time we're down at the pub.'

"We're here." Balthem abruptly declared as the looming doors of the throne room came into view. He gave a simpering look at his charge as he mockingly added: "oh, and don't you worry; I think we all know how fond of you our king is."

Bakura only snorted and waved him off with one hand. "Wow- it took you all that trip to come up with that one, huh?"

Balthem's face turned a ruddy hue as he stomped away, cursing under his breath and leaving the smaller messenger to chase after him.

There was a laugh rising in Bakura's throat, but it was promptly quashed when he stepped into the massive throne room. 'D*mn, why do I always end up in this stupid place?!'

At the far end of the most ornate room in the castle were two figures deep in conversation. Evidently

King Yami was in the middle of a serious discussion with his advisor, Sir Seto. Bakura could guess the topic, and he stayed standing near the large doors, waiting for his name to be called.

'Dammit...' The proud fighter hated being summoned like a dog; but it was particularly grating to have it done by someone far weaker than himself. Oddly enough, the society of demons held only one thing above physical capability, and that was sovereign providence. In other words, those born into the royal bloodline were almost never disobeyed, regardless of any personal character flaws.

'Many flaws, in this case...' The white-haired fiend thought darkly. 'Honestly, if it wasn't for his father's eccentric methods, I'd swear that scrawny, sympathy-guided wuss was actually an angel in a dark camouflage...'

"Bakura."

The so-called demon scowled as he strode up the long carpet to the throne. Everyone knew he was hardly the king's favorite soldier, but being one of the strongest fighters in the kingdom ensured that they interacted fairly often.

(Though of course, that didn't mean that either of the pair had to like it).

"Yes, my liege?" Bakura's voice was dripping with insincerity, but the king let it slide.

"I have just received a most troubling report from Sir Seto- evidently a group of thugs assaulted our diplomatic guest and injured him quite badly." The shrouded monarch paused before continuing his declaration. "You are the one who was tasked with protecting the angel. Why weren't you there?"

The crimson-eyed fiend scowled and folded his arms, defiant even in the face of hard scrutiny. "The foreign flier refuses to eat any meat. He went to the kitchen to find some garnishes or something. Apparently the rogues dragged him out the back door before I noticed."

"Hmm." The dark ruler nodded, the wispy shadows mimicking his every motion. "Yes, that does fit with what I've been told- but still, the fact remains that we have never hosted an angel in our realm. He is not a prisoner or war, or a captive- but a willing part of the treaty we wish to forge between the Upperlanders and ourselves."

Sir Seto suddenly spoke up, his voice cold and factual. "Such a vicious assault could be considered an act of war. The current truce lies on unsteady grounds, at best. If the heavens are provoked, it could ignite a chain reaction leading to deaths of many of our warriors." The brunette demon frowned as he added: "we've also recently received confirmation that this 'Ryou' was never even considered for the warrior class, making this harsh ambush even more reprehensible."

Bakura felt something in his throat sink. 'But- aren't all angels battle-ready?!'

The King growled in disapproval. "Attacking a non-warrior class entreaty like a pack of savage dogs with blades... now that is a truly disgusting display of misconduct. We have fought with the seraphs in the past, true; but I swore to protect that young angel to keep both realms satisfied." The king glanced aside and lowered his tone. "I will not go back on my word because a foolish pack of rogues wanted to start a blood-show." He turned his head towards his advisor. "Sir Seto, you said you finished your investigation- tell me, do you know which demons were involved?"

The tall advisor easily repeated five titles.

The dark leader was immediately incensed- he recognized those names as long-time offenders. "I warned those five that I would not tolerate any further offenses on their part." The demonic ruler turned to a small, golden funnel on the throne's left arm rest that served as a communications system. He barked into the gilded pipe. "Guard! I have the names of the perpetrators. Sir Seto will recite them to you in a moment, then I want you to send for those wretched fools- I wish to decide their punishment." He turned back to the pale warrior while the advisor shared the names. "While that's being handled- where is the angel now?"

Bakura gave a small cough before answering. "Marik carried him to his assigned room. The angel was unconscious at the time, but I doubt he will suffer long after witnessing his healing skills first-hand."

"Marik?" The cloud-covered ruler nearly groaned- there was no doubt that Marik was one of the strongest, wildest demons to ever grace the Underlands, but to entrust him with such a delicate task... "I see... and you truly believed he was the best choice for that undertaking?"

The pale demon resisted rolling his eyes as he dryly replied. "I was quite astonished myself, but yes; evidently he does know the meaning of 'restraint' and 'patience.'"

For some reason the mental image of Marik carrying the unconscious cherub up the stony steps- with the angel's lolling head bumping against every railing post- was stuck in King Yami's head. But it was pointless to argue the matter further, as the cherub was surely either in his bed, safe and sound; or else he had likely been driven into an incurable coma.

'Either way, further status checks will have to wait until tomorrow.' The exhausted noble raised one hand to dismiss his most sarcastic warrior, only to find that Bakura had already left the room.

With a sigh, the young monarch stood up, eager to stretch his tense back. 'Hm- whoever said that 'we kings hold power over everything' was evidently NOT ruling over any of that one's bloodline...' The weary leader then decided it was past time he retired to his own bed- and luckily, he wouldn't require anyone to carry him.