"Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt." Sun Tzu
War was a very skillful art and Lucifer Morningstar had been a master. But that had been eons ago.
The upraise of the Lilim under Dromos was his fault - his open abdication the biggest error of them all. It was to be expected that Dromos and his not so unexpected followers were going to try to find a malleable replacement. He just had not anticipated they would almost succeed in finding one. Now they were certainly plotting a coup d'état to destitute and get to him, very displeased with the outcome they had experienced while on Earth.
He was usually less patient, but also less temperamental and predictable than demons and that gave him an advantage. Now, back on his dark spire throne, he scanned his surroundings and thought about the convenient punishment for the forces Dromos had gathered in Hell, the several dozen supporters that followed him to Earth just being the tip of an iceberg. Revenge had to be served cold and in theory he had all eternity in his favor. Certainly, he could snap Dromos out of existence all by himself and incinerate all rogue demons, but then he would always guard his back. It was better to go by the traditions of the bellic denizens of Hell and declare war, favoring allies and rewarding them afterwards. Violence was something he reveled in, savored like some precious bubbly and French vintage. Why not bask in it and on top get the outcome he needed?
First, he had to assess the actual numbers of Dromos' army and meet him with at least the same force. He had to outsmart them; he had already created discord between the inner circle of the direct children of Lilith and the ordinary, less human-like demons they usually subjugated. If he pretended to be trusting they would reveal their weaknesses sooner or later. They always did. Lilim males were dumb and greedy, they had it ingrained and could be lured with shiny trinkets or highly pheromonal females.
His suit had fallen apart, his white shirt turned grey and torn, he had discarded them earlier that century. That sore excuse, the last sign of humanity he had needed to strip himself of. Only his red silken handkerchief hid his most precious item he had brought from Earth and guarded in the armrest of the spire throne.
When he descended to the caves of the lesser demons, where they were mining gems for the Lilim and tanning hides and skins of the savage beasts that roamed the planes beyond the great range, he almost felt excited. Much smaller in size and weight they huddled together when they saw Lucifer Morningstar appearing, awed, and partially blinded by his magnificent glowing wings. No creature compared to him and not many in this forsaken place far away from the human cells had seen him up front and he was apparently more a mythic tale to them. Maybe that has been how the New World conquerors on horses had been perceived and greeted. The Devil let his eyes wander. Everything, every basalt rock, every hole, every pebble, even every ash flake reminded him of the nuclear winters from apocalyptic movies.
"Wie ist die beste leerlooier?" He demanded almost growling and only one hunched demon with greenish scales and small grey horns appeared from the midst of almost fifty demons. 'He must be several millennia old,' the former archangel pondered.
"Ek is." The bent demon answered. "Vozothin."
"Vozothin, I command you to create me an outfit worthy of my devilish form. I need it to be resistant, dependable, and fitting like a gauntlet. It requires a hood and should cover all of my body. Where is your workplace so I can choose the skin?"
He revealed his blood red and brownish physique, growing at the same time by several ells which drove the demons to throw themselves on their knees and into the hand's breath of ash, terrified and in reverence at the same time.
"Come, my king!" The old demon approached the sovereign and motioned the Devil to follow him to a cave, the entrance covered by a hide decorated with fangs, shells, and small horns. Behind it a workshop appeared, some stools and a long table, several tiny baskets with leather stripes, fur, fibulae made of bones, silver, copper and gold, brooches decorated with semiprecious gems, simple horn buttons and a corner full of large skins and fur. The Devil had to hunker down in order to fit in the space and Vozothin had to give him two stools to finally make him sit comfortably. At least the hide prevented the ash to cover everything he touched. The demon showed him several skins he had stored in a compartment in the floor under layers of straw. Wyvern and Calydonian boar for trousers, boots, and gauntlets, grootslang for the jacket and Nemean lion which the Devil finally chose for his shirt and hood. He wanted the leather all dyed in black. Vozothin convinced the king to use bone and horn instead of metal as they could be dyed in the same color. The old demon snorted and let his tongue hang out, finding it difficult to inhale next to his sovereign's hot breath.
"The gauntlets need to be open at the palms, so you can move your claws freely, normal gloves won't be useful, my king." The green scaled creature measured the width of them, the arm length, and everything else needed to manufacture an armorlike suit. "I will decorate the chest and back with branding symbols. The hood, too, if you so desire." The Devil approved. Detailed luxury, a display of status and rank was always welcome. Fine feathers make the bird and he had always been a prime example of a peacock.
Some of Vozothin's family gathered outside the cave, listening. It was an honor to produce the new clothes for the sovereign as he obviously cherished the old traditional ways over the ostentatious sparkling the Lilim chose for themselves, not being a surprise for such an infinite entity.
"You'd wish for a balanced sword, my king." Vozothin murmured. "My āþum is a fine blacksmith, has worked for many, many eruptions of the ragged volcano beyond Gehenna. He uses the volcano's fire to fabricate the items."
"Is that so? Then bring someone to show me the way to his home. I desire to see what he produces."
"He lives at the foothills of the volcano. Near the Grand Valley. I can send for him."
"No need. I intend to inspect my realm. I just require a guide to his place."
"He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious." The old demon's eyes sparkled.
"Then I will wait, Vozothin." So the Lilim were assembling against him at the Great Valley and the lesser demons were not fond of it. Interesting. "Arrange for your sister's consort to bring some of his craft."
"You may stay at our humble place if you consider it apt, Sire. My kin and I would be honored if you shared the late meal with us. My āþum could arrive by the second twilight break."
Lucifer Morningstar pondered about the offer and about Machiavelli's comment on indulging the lesser powers of the area without increasing their power. Devious human! He needed the lesser, weaker demons on his side. They outnumbered the children of Lilith tenfold. It had been a serious mistake to let Dromos of the Lilim live. He needed to make an example out of him.
"On the contrary. I am honored you want to end the sidereal day with me sitting at your fire with your kin."
"We have neither stones nor coal to ignite the fire, Sire!" Vozothin looked mortified and his younger spawns stared anguished into the scrutinizing fires of the Devil's orbs. Latter pressed themselves into a farther corner of the shoppe. "They were taken from us."
'One should make sure that the people need the prince, especially if a time of need should come.' Another advice of the Italian.
"Not to worry, my crafty artisan. I shall put one in the middle of the crossroad for everyone to cherish."
Walking out to the center of the dwelling and requesting the inhabitants to gather stones Lucifer felt helpful and not ruling. 'Weird!' he thought, 'Another human emotion that hadn't been buried to ponder about'. He touched the rocks when enough had been collected, and they started to burn like coal. The lesser demons lay their red and raw meat directly on them. The Devil noticed they had not eaten cooked protein for quite a while. Some of them were more than skinny: rachitic would have been the adequate term. Lilim must have ransacked their complete storage, the recently hunted food all there was. He only took a minuscule piece of the rack that was offered to him by a pretty but tiny female completely covered in tortoiseshell colored scales with a horn-ended stumpy tail. The size was obviously caused by lack of sufficient nutrition. Nine years he had been away with the exception of two momentary drop-ins. Probably some two or three generations of young demons.
"Is the leather sufficient, Vozothin?" The Morningstar asked masking a sudden burst of empathy and acknowledgement of the dire straits these cave dwellers had endured.
"I will make ends meet, my king."
When the demons retreated to their lairs, the Devil sat for a while alone at the warm pile of stones deciding whether to use these subjects to fight the Lilim around Dromos. They were weak and perhaps only five dozen. He would need legions or use deceit and surprise to retrieve all of his realm. He needed to reinforce his claim and punish his enemies accordingly.
"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat." Churchill had been a great and crafty leader with an ego almost as big as his, unfortunately he couldn't consult him as he did not dwell in Hell. Probably thought he didn't deserve it.
Lucifer went hunting sometime later and brought a large keresh back. He would not sleep, unsure if treason were around the corner. It was a mistake to be trusting. He would await twilight and hear the news from the Great Valley. The Great Valley was a sought-after hunting ground. If the Lilim gathered there they had enough supplies for many sidereal. The attack needed to be swift. They could not know what hit them and that would create chaos and fear. This time he had to plan ahead and not engage in rage. His mind wandered to Machiavelli again. He had written that if an injury is to be done to a man, it should be so severe that the prince is not in fear of revenge.
This was exactly what needed to be accomplished.
Ash was sticking everywhere on his body after sitting at the stones and the Devil hated it. It itched in the raw lines between the hardened flesh and he knew scratching would only make it worse. How he hated Hell and everything it encompassed! The red skin ached for a shower, but water was scarce in this region. He would need to wait until the leather clothing would be ready. If it fitted like a glove it would soothe and shield him. Meanwhile all he had for protection were his leathered wings and they only distributed the ash into even smaller gaps. He growled in anger and woke half the settlement. The inhabitants were frightened, he could sense it. Some older females and males ventured out, but none was a warrior. He motioned the game he had brought in and required its preparation. There would be enough for a meal for everyone in the settlement.
When the second twilight arrived so did the blacksmith with his daughter. Lucifer noticed that both were muscular and tall, wore silver caps on their horns and furry grey clothes that were distinctive for their guild. The Great Valley was indeed a prosperous place to live. The weapon maker wasn't wealthy but lived apparently much more comfortably than the mining demons. Scrutinizing them as he inspected swords, axes, and knives in the cart, until he singled out one sword, made to be handled with both hands and suited for the Devil, the Morningstar reclaimed his equanimity, surprised he had been in somewhat uncomfortable state of mind. The blade he held was straight, long and folded so many times any blacksmith from Damascus would pale against him. There was no need to pass it over a whetstone for a long, long time.
"This is lovely! How long did you work on this splendid piece?" The King of Hell praised the dexterity of the middle-aged demon.
"Almost six hundred sidereals." The artisan bowed deeply and retreated after handing the sword over. "It was a long, heavy ash season." His honed and stone embedded teeth blinked.
"I can only imagine." His red claws grasped the grip of the sword harder, touched the elaborated guard and pommel, then felt the fuller of the blade. The blade was sharp on both sides, the weight balanced and the carvings beautiful. He showed his large strong teeth and flared his wings. "What do you desire, my so talented Sarithin?"