"I didn't expect to see you here, my lord," you say, inclining your head. Kokabiel, unlike Azazel, prefers some small acknowledgement of his position. "I assume this is not a social visit."
Of course it isn't. Kokabiel doesn't do social, and certainly not with someone like you.
"You are correct," he says, standing. Your eyes are level with his shoulder. "Azazel told us that you survived your death, and about the discovery of the Red Dragon Emperor, but that is not why I'm here. Tell me what you know of Rias Gremory and her Peerage, from your interactions with them. I learned from Father Freed that you've had relatively extensive dealings with them compared to any of our other agents."
"...Father Freed?" you ask, venom eating through the respect Kokabiel's presence demands. "The same Father Freed who left me to die?"
Kokabiel's wings—they spring from his back in all their glory, like flags planted over a conquered castle, as they have every time you've ever seen him—still from their lazy flexing. "Oh?"
"Freed Sellzen could have saved me from Gremory," you say, "but he laughed in my face and demanded that I fuck him for the favour. I refused, and he ran."
"He did not mention that to me." Kokabiel's voice is mild. His eyes are not. "Rest assured I will explain to the good Father that—as a human and Stray Exorcist—it is his duty to obey his betters."
"Thank you, my lord," you say, hiding your smile. You've seen how Kokabiel treats disobedient Fallen. You're almost not sure you want to see how he'll treat a disobedient human. Only almost, though. Freed Sellzen can burn. "May I ask why you want to know about Gremory and her tools?"
"You may not," he says. Well then. "When stepping close to the sisters of Satans, some secrets are necessary."
There's something a little off about this – Kokabiel didn't have to come in person. He could have just requested a report, whether through Azazel or on his own initiative. Sabbatical or not, there's a limit to the sort of person you can refuse direct orders from. You can't imagine he doesn't have better things to do than talk to you, regardless of how interesting you are. And you're not sure why he wants to know about Gremory in the first place.
At the end of the day, however, there's nothing you can do about it, and you certainly have little reason to be obstinate. Kokabiel is standing right in front of you, he's made it clear he won't tolerate questions like that—you can understand the motive behind it, at least—and it's not really your place to ask them in the first place. Azazel is a scientist, and he welcomes inquiring minds; Kokabiel is a soldier, and he welcomes obedience.
"Would you like to know about the way they fight first, the way they interact with one another, or something else?" You didn't see all that much of them, for the most part, but you'll do your best.
"I don't care about the way they fight," he says. You can hear the unspoken reprimand; as if someone like Kokabiel is concerned by the strengths and weaknesses of a rabble of children he could crush with a hand behind his back. "Tell me of their connections. Their relationships. Their vulnerabilities."
The first thing you relay to him is the obvious: Gremory is incredibly defensive of her Peerage, as her family has always been. When you mention that her Queen is called Akeno, Kokabiel laughs, but ignores the question in your expression. You speak of the way the Knight expressed a particular hatred of priests, and how he and the Rook fought so eagerly alongside Hyoudou. That diverts into a tangent about the brat's almost-obsession with Argento, another name Kokabiel recognises. You don't know for certain if Gremory resurrected the girl, but you'd be an idiot to believe she didn't. The last thing you mention is, of course, Hyoudou's general perversion – it's the most obvious weakness he has, and one the Fallen are very good at exploiting.
You don't offer suggestions, only facts and observations. You're a footsoldier. Kokabiel is a general. If he wanted your input, he'd ask for it. The insult by implication is one you find you care less about now than you used to – you are weak. You were a fool. So what if the slight still burns? Wallowing in bitterness got you exactly two thousand years of fucking nowhere, and Kokabiel is certainly the wrong direction to channel your rage.
One day, you'll look down on him from Azazel's side—and Shemhazai's—but there are far better and more deserving targets for your hate. Like that bitch of a Devil Kokabiel is asking you another question about.
"Rias Gremory," he says. "Did she seem particularly fond of any members of her Peerage?"
"Hyoudou," you reply. Kokabiel's questions are… suspicious, but the sort of suspicious that would spread your smile shark-wide under any other circumstance. You doubt he wants to avenge your death with fire and Light, not unless he's planning to doom the rest of your species, but there are plenty of other ways to fuck with Gremory. As long as there's something left for your own vengeance at the end, you could care less. "The last thing she ever said to me was a warning not to flirt with her 'cute servant'. Dohnaseek reported that she came to defend Hyoudou when he stumbled on the boy in the city, and she permitted her entire Peerage to come and try to rescue Argento. Beyond those specifics, her general behaviour implied a strange level of affection for him before she even knew he had the Boosted Gear, and no doubt she holds him all the more precious now."
"How interesting," Kokabiel says. His voice is distant, as if he's lost in thought. "Well done, Raynare. Your information has been… revealing."
"I hope it proves useful for your purposes, my lord."
He smiles, amused. "It will."
Kokabiel sits down, lounging in the chair the way a wolf might. You'd take your own seat, but he hasn't given you permission, and even if it's your apartment, you're not the one in control – of the room or the conversation.
"Indulge me for a moment, Raynare. What do you think of the Great War? The second, not the first. You may speak freely."
For most people, there is only one Great War, when all three Factions strove to leave nothing left of the others but the stench of their corpses. For those as old as you and Kokabiel, however, there was another – when the Morningstar revealed what he had done and declared his defiance of Heaven over the body of Israfil himself. Most history books nowadays refer to it as the Secession, the Rebellion, or even the Origin, but pretty names paid for by Devils aren't worth the breath it takes to say them.
"We should have allied with Heaven," you reply, and Kokabiel raises an eyebrow. "Together we could have crushed the Devils—scoured them to salt and ash—and then turned on God in the aftermath. It's not as if Angels would have been willing to betray us first; they'd have expected treachery, but the timing would have been ours to decide."
He chuckles. "Just the answer I'd have expected from a spy."
You can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult.
"May I ask why we chose not to, my lord?"
"Azazel was never interested in winning," he says. He stands with the lazy grace of a flourished blade, and picks up the papers he'd left on your bed; they disappear with a twist of his wrist. "Just surviving."
"It's a noble goal." Azazel has always been concerned for the welfare of those under his aegis. He's too kind for his own good, sometimes. "God never cared for us half as much."
"Noble," Kokabiel says, musing. "Yes, I suppose it would be to someone like you."
Before you can reply, he speaks again.
"Your assistance is appreciated, Raynare, but I have business to attend to. Goodbye."
"...I assume you don't want the chair, my lord?"
He glances down at it. "I do not. This apartment needs more furniture. No Fallen should live somewhere so… plain."
With that, he takes a step and disappears in a blaze of Light.