Chapter 3: Forgery

Eventually I realized that I had a large amount of time on my hands.

This was not a difficult conclusion to reach. I did not receive any orders. Few of the other demons ever approached me, and when they did, it rarely resulted in my being given something to do. And I no longer had to devote any of my time to eating or sleeping.

I had been told to do a large amount of reading. I would hardly consider this an assignment. Given the circumstances, it was clear to me that this was for my own good. It was possible that it was also supposed to keep me away from the others, but I preferred not to think of it that way.

But in the end, there was a more significant reason for this realization.

Galamoth stops writing. Raising his head, he listens to the sounds of the other demons.

At the moment, the underworld is unusually quiet. Conversations take place, but they reveal nothing of importance. Some demons are working, but it is hard to identify a specific goal. Compared to the atmosphere back then, it is rather sedate.

Galamoth looks back at the paper. This is not necessarily a good thing.

Nothing ever happened in hell.

Minor incidents, like the first day's fight, were enough to attract any demons that happened to be in the area. Larger events, like the first day's... other fight, were rare and notable enough to become the talk of the entire population, or at least those demons that were paying attention.

The kind of events that would actually affect the fortunes of everyone in hell? The times when the demons would actually be expected to do something? For those, you would have to wait for decades at a time.

I read the book that I had been given. Then I picked up another book and read it as well. There were more than enough books to hold my attention. I would occasionally leave the "library" in an effort to find something new to do, possibly involving other demons, but in the end, I would always come back to the books. Book after book, with almost nothing that could be considered an interruption.

And then one day, some of the demons brought in some new books to be added to the shelves. Taken from the humans, one of them said. And I picked one of them up, and noticed a reference to the current year, and I realized that I had been kept in that place for more than ten years of my life.

There is no mirror in the room, so Galamoth opts to look down at his body. It looks the same as it always has: golden-brown scaly skin tightly bound around a toned yet thin physique.

His race ages slowly compared to the humans here, he recalls. It isn't until they are approximately fifty years by this planet's measure that they are considered adults. Many members of his race live to be over two hundred. His father died just before he was... ninety? And Galamoth himself was somewhere between sixty-five and seventy when he was sent on his mission.

If someone from home was to see him today, he would never guess him to be anything above eighty.

Aging. Another one of those things that only living beings do.

He had asked a demon about this a long time ago. The demon hadn't understood what he was talking about. Another demon had to step in to explain why.

"Demons come from different backgrounds", he had said. "Some demons were once mortal and were made into demons, like you. Some came into existence as part of a mythology and were adopted as demons, like me. And some were just created to be demons."

Galamoth had done some research on the first three demons he had met. Dracula looked younger, but he was over 300 years old when Galamoth first met him. Thanatos was part of the mythological set, and his age was impossible to determine, but it had to be at least 1500. Adrian... judging by his speech patterns, he was probably as young as he looked back then.

Demons are always at least as old as they appear, but never younger. Galamoth had made a note of that early on. He still remembers it, although he keeps finding exceptions to the rule. The Alura Unes, for instance. Also most artificially created creatures, such as the homunculi.

Galamoth looks at the paper again. He has gotten very far off the original topic. It's just as well, he decides. No one here needs to read this kind of philosophy.

Over that decade, I had improved significantly. I understood the basics of what hell was, and how it worked. I knew a great deal of information about the Earth itself, and what the humans had been doing for the last several millennia. I could identify many of the demons on sight, if only by type, and often identify their origin if they were of the mythological set. And, most obviously to everyone, I could finally hold a conversation with other demons and actually sound intelligent in the process.

He never said anything more about it, but I think Thanatos appreciated that I had managed to overcome my early obstacle.

Galamoth picks up one of the two books he had been looking at earlier. THANATOS, the cover still reads. The first book he had ever read. He only recently found it again, and he intends to keep it in a safe place this time.

All the demons knew Thanatos, and with good reason. He was their leader. But, he notes, very few call him by that name. The ones who served him directly, certainly, but few others. Everyone else called him Death.

Galamoth had always called him Thanatos. Why was that? Constantly associating him with the book would explain it. But perhaps, Galamoth thinks, he also appreciated him. Thanatos had good reason to kill him several times and he never did so. Actions like that at least commanded respect.

He rarely saw his leader, though, at least when something significant wasn't happening. It was just as well. He must have been busy. It was Galamoth's understanding that he had a number of other significant duties in hell, including overseeing certain processes involving deceased humans.

Galamoth sighs. Humanity. That really was what this whole situation was about, wasn't it?

They populated the surface of the planet. Despite their noticeable inferiority to demonkind, they vastly outnumbered them. There were more similarities between the groups than some of the demons cared to admit; a number of the humans had become demons, and it was rare to find a demon who was not well known in a human civilization somewhere. And it was odd that a demon was specifically assigned to handle their dead.

The demons had differing opinions regarding the humans. Some felt that they were too weak to deserve to exist. Some felt that they were a pleasant diversion from the mundanity of hell life. Most, including Galamoth, wondered why they held sole claim to the surface in the first place when the demons could easily settle there as well.

And then there was Dracula. The stories Galamoth had heard suggested that he was a human once, but had formed some kind of contract with Thanatos that allowed him to become as powerful as the demons, despite his continued existence on the surface. He, some demons had said, was also responsible for maintaining the portal that allowed them to visit the surface at will. It almost sounded like he was an ambassador between the two populations, and indeed he had taken a human mate.

Adrian was a result of this union. This surprised Galamoth when he first found out. The fact that the boy who had defeated him and his army in combat wasn't even a full vampire, let alone a mature one, made him wonder once again how much greater Dracula's power was than his own.

Galamoth starts thinking about his invasion attempt again. He had believed that the demons would be enough to subjugate the humans. Would it have worked if the vampires hadn't intervened? Would the same concept work outside of a military approach? Could the demons lead the humans if they had a chance?

It doesn't sound like a bad idea to him. The humans have always displayed more innovation than the demons, which sometimes makes up for their physical and magical shortcomings. The demons could take advantage of the fruits of the humans' labor and lend their strength to the humans in turn, and there was more than enough space in the world for both of them, eliminating any need for these stuffy caverns.

Galamoth closes his eyes and shakes his head. If only that could have happened. Anything would have been better than what had actually transpired next.

He returns to his writing, wondering if he should have written down any of what he had just been thinking.

Galamoth first found out when he took a break from his reading and headed back through the hallway, only to find that the main room contained considerably fewer demons than usual. Confused by the discrepancy, he asked one of the nearby demons what was going on.

"We're at war", the demon said with a shrug.

One of the unfortunate aspects of current events is that books rarely contain any information about them. Galamoth had to continue to ask around before he could figure out what had happened.

A large group of humans had apparently killed Dracula's mate in a public display of defiance against demonkind. The vampire lord was understandably furious, and he vowed to destroy those responsible. Thanatos had immediately offered the assistance of his demons to aid in the process, and most of them were still fighting the humans.

Galamoth immediately raised the question of how the humans could put up any kind of resistance when the average demon was so much stronger than the average human. This was not answered.

His second question was why he had not been informed of this earlier. One of the demons offered a theory, which was logical enough. There was an advantage in not sending all available demons at once, especially when jobs still needed to be done. Considering how many stayed behind, there was no need to specifically inform them of such.

This led immediately to a third question, which Galamoth opted not to ask. Why wasn't he one of the demons chosen to fight?

Before he left one of the demons suggested as tactfully as possible that Galamoth pay more attention to the happenings in the main room. Thanatos had made a public appearance to announce what was going on, and he then left to fight on the front lines as well.

Galamoth then asked a fourth question. Sadly, none of the demons had any idea about who was in charge while Thanatos was gone.

I returned to my reading, but found it hard to concentrate with all of the rumors being spread among the demons. One of the more significant stories was that Dracula's forces were being heavily opposed by a man who was a descendant of one of his old friends, and one who he had abandoned when he originally made his agreement with Thanatos. According to their accounts, he was strong and well equipped enough to kill many of our demons in one fell swoop. The humans had a general now, and one that would ensure that this war would not end without large numbers of casualties. He was not to be ignored.

I only wish that this revelation had been the largest shock of that day.

"Adrian defected to his side", one of the demons told me later.

Adrian? Dracula's only son? The one who defeated me when I first arrived, while pretending to be his father? Why would he turn against his own father, especially considering that it was his mother's death that led to this war?

This question in particular haunted me for a while. I thought I had seen a family bond that went far beyond those common to my world, and to have it broken so inexplicably... I couldn't explain it.

Galamoth stops for a moment to think. How did he feel about Adrian back then? He had to respect his talent in combat, for obvious reasons. But he had only been a child, and the two never had a chance to actually interact with each other in any kind of civilized manner.

At least, not yet.

Moving on, Galamoth thinks, returning to the narrative.

The oddest detail of this war, though, was that it was not that defection that most affected my life back then. It was a later betrayal, and one that was only indirectly related to my next actions.

"Excuse me... Galamoth?"

Galamoth lowered his book to take a good look at the demon that was interrupting his reading. "What is it?" he asked as patiently as possible.

"I am trying to find someone who is trained in devil forging. Would you happen to know anything about it?"

Galamoth couldn't believe what he had just heard. He paused for a while to collect his thoughts. Someone had finally acknowledged his presence and was requesting his help. He would have to be incredibly foolish to turn down an offer like this one. And forging? He considered himself to have some degree of talent at that task.

He set the book down slowly and tried his best to not look too enthusiastic. "I have some experience in forging."

The demon smiled. "Excellent. Please come with me."

After a walk through the main room, the two passed through yet another hallway. According to the writing on the walls around them, any demon that entered this area without sufficient reason would quickly come to regret it. Galamoth wasn't sure what type of punishment could possibly have that effect. The act of devouring a demon had only been a temporary inconvenience for everyone involved...

The room on the other side was rather large and contained various pieces of equipment that Galamoth had never seen before. A massive altar that swirled with magical energy rested in the center of the room. Along the walls were various containers, each labeled differently. Larger closed containers were kept against the back wall as well, and these had visible locks on them.

The demon turned and looked up to face Galamoth. "One of our forgemasters abandoned us to fight on the other side during the war."

"Why?" Galamoth wondered.

"I am still not certain. However, in his absence, we are down to only one and we could use all the help we can get."

Galamoth knelt down and examined the containers nearest the entrance. According to the labels, they contained souls. "What are these souls for?" he asked.

"We use them to forge devils, of course. You did say you had experience in this field, correct?"

Galamoth stopped. This wasn't right. When he had been asked...

He turned to face the demon. "I must apologize. I misunderstood your request. I said I have experience in forging. That is, the metallic kind."

The demon frowned. "That is unfortunate. We were really hoping..." He paused as if he had remembered something, and then started again. "Wait. There's still a chance. Let me check on something."

He left quickly, leaving Galamoth alone in the devil forge. No staff appeared to be on duty, and he was disappointed to not be able to see the process in action. Another part of him was annoyed that he had let everyone down.

"Quite an interesting tactic there."

As usual, he scanned the floor around him to see who had chosen to address him. In seconds, he had spotted a small blackish demon sitting on the side of the altar. If this was truly a devil forge, then this was most likely one of the devils that it was used to produce. He didn't know if this one was supposed to be able to run loose.

Galamoth looked at it inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

The devil gestured in the direction of the altar. "Very few are allowed to enter this room. But you managed to get in, merely by claiming to be something that you were not."

Galamoth glared at it. "Are you claiming that I deliberately deceived him?"

The devil shrugged. "I do not know, but I find it interesting that your initiative has reaped rewards beyond those that you would have been given for honesty alone."

"But I haven't gained anything."

"We shall see. Image is more important than you think."

Galamoth paused to consider his words. Was image as useful as it claimed? He certainly could vouch for that. Back when he had first become a demon, he had been treated rudely because the others had mistaken him for an incompetent brute. Now that he carried himself with more dignity, he was starting to be treated as if he belonged...

The demon returned at that time. Galamoth glanced back at the altar, only to find that the devil was no longer in sight.

"We may have a position for you after all. Follow me."

Several more hallways later, Galamoth entered a room that he would consider a proper forge, the kind where people heated metal and used it to craft weapons and armor. This time, a group of demons were clearly doing their job.

The devil forge demon conferred quietly with a pair of demons, then turned to speak to Galamoth again. "It turns out that one of the men who work this forge has some devil forging experience. If you are able to fulfill his duties here, he can work at the other forge and we'll have solved our manpower crisis."

This was optimistic. "What are his duties?" Galamoth asked.

The larger of the other two demons answered this one. "Mostly shaping. I'm concerned, though. You don't look like the type to be exact at small details."

Galamoth considered this. The demon had a point. Still, confidence had gotten him this far. "My hands may be large, but I have an acute eye. I shall perform the task."

"Do not disappoint me", the devil forge demon said as he led the third demon out of the room. The remaining demon gestured at Galamoth to follow him.

Galamoth taps the pen several times against the floor. The things he could write about the forging process could fill a small book by themselves. But he isn't here to write about it, is he?

He tries to keep it short. A few tales of how he used to do some metalwork back on his home planet, and a short description of some of the tools used for the task of heating and cooling the metal quickly. A few examples of his exploits at home and a few from his time in the military, including one story he liked to tell where he sealed a breach in a ship's hull while it was still in orbit and engaged in battle. And then a comparison to the simpler process here, including the reliance on fire and water, which is helpfully provided by demons who specialize in creating the substances.

The forgemaster had been right, though. Galamoth wasn't the ideal choice for shaping the small details, such as the edges of weapons. However, it was quickly agreed that he was more efficient than the others at creating armor and golems. He could lift the necessary metal without help, he knew a lot about structural integrity, and there was less focus on pinpoint accuracy. In a short time he was turning out output that was an improvement over the forge's previous work and took at least half an hour less to make as well. He had finally found his niche.

By the time Galamoth realizes it, he has already filled several pages with his anecdotes. Some habits die hard, he decides. He decides against scrapping them, just in case someone who reads his story is interested in a few tips.

Now he needs to tell the parts of the story that may be important later.

"Master", he asked the forgemaster as the two were preparing a suit of armor to be moved to the devil forge for purposes of installing a soul. "I was wondering if we are permitted to use this forge for personal reasons."

His supervisor didn't seem to expect this question. "What do you mean by personal reasons?"

"For instance, if I wanted to build a weapon or armor for myself."

"You're still expecting to get called to battle, aren't you?"

Galamoth nodded. "I don't think Dracula would have offered to let me work for him if he didn't intend for me to fight."

"Our duty is not to question his intents. As for the forge itself, I see no reason for you not to use it yourself when we have met quota."

"Do you mean that? Thank..."

"But you must provide the metal yourself", the forgemaster interrupted. "Our supply is solely used to fill the requests of our superiors."

"Do you know where I could find metal?"

"Other than here, I do not know. I guess I cannot suggest that you try going to the surface, given your situation."

Galamoth groaned. "Then it is a lost cause."

"For now, perhaps. But I promise that if things change in your favor and you get some metal of your own, I will allow you to use the forge as you desire."

Galamoth took a small amount of comfort in this. His employer was not a cruel demon. There was no doubt in his mind that he meant every word of his promise. But, for the moment, it was more important to work.

This is going to be the tough part, Galamoth thinks as he prepares a new sheet of paper. Any demon who reads the beginning of this story will have noticed an obvious discrepancy by now. It is time to confess.

One of the less obvious side effects of my position was that I had started to gain more notoriety among the demons. At least, it was starting to be more positive than "that giant hungry dinosaur".

There were advantages. Some demons were starting to speak openly to me, hoping to gain my trust. Others had suggested that I try my luck in the arena, at least before I admitted that I had nothing worth wagering there. I had to admit, it was nice to receive some worthwhile attention.

At least before the inevitable question came.

"Hey, Galamoth, I was thinking of applying for a position in the forge. Do you think I have what it takes?"

From his sitting position, Galamoth had a good vantage point to size up the demon who was addressing him. "I do not know. Do you have practice?"

"Well, I think I know the steps and I'm pretty good at craftwork. I'm not sure I'd be anywhere as good as you, though."

A bit of a suck-up, Galamoth had to admit. "I just do my best."

"But, I mean, I never expected someone like you to have that kind of skill. Where did you pick it up, anyway?"

Galamoth saw where this was going, and he tried to stop it immediately. "I can't really say", he said dismissively. "It just came naturally to me, I guess."

"You must've learned it from a young age, huh? Where are you from?"

Too late, Galamoth thought.

"I don't have time for these questions. If you want to try to get a job in the forge, try convincing one of the superiors there. I'm busy."

And Galamoth stood up and stormed off, leaving a number of bewildered demons looking at him.

These conversations were becoming more and more common, and it was turning into an annoying predicament. I could name many of the more famous demons in our ranks, and not only that, but state their origins. Dracula was originally Romanian, Thanatos came from Greece, the fire demon in the forge who goes by the name of Agni was well known in India, and so on. Even in cases of former mortals, I could simply say that they were originally human or whatever kind of creature they were and leave it at that.

But I couldn't tell anyone anything about myself. While the diversity of the demons and lands of the surface was great, I had noticed during my many years of reading that no one, demon or human, had ever considered the possibility that there were other inhabited planets in existence. And I had repeatedly convinced myself by that time that no one would ever learn that from me, lest I lose much of my reputation and get labeled a liar. Or, worse, an invader.

Galamoth tries to remember when he came up with the idea. It had to have been less than three years after he started work in the forge, because the war was still going on. But it wasn't any specific conversation that led to his decision. He had just been thinking one day when he remembered that devil back in the devil forge.

"Image is more important than you think."

Its words were true enough. He was starting to gain a positive image, and he was not willing to throw it away simply to hide his secret.

"I find it interesting that your initiative has reaped rewards beyond those that you would have been given for honesty alone."

An accidental misinterpretation had caused him to claim expertise in a position that he didn't know, and yet it indirectly gave him a chance to take up a position at which he was actually competent.

Galamoth has wondered about that many times. Would he have ever been allowed to work at the forge if he hadn't suggested that he could work at a different one? And did it truly matter if it was an accident or not?

"You managed to get in, merely by claiming to be something that you were not."

Galamoth had started to see his problem from another angle. The demons wanted to find out more about him. The problem wasn't that he didn't tell them where he was actually from. The problem was that he wasn't telling them anything at all. Any answer, if believable enough, would suffice.

"Merely by claiming to be something that you were not."

What would have been believable for them? Certainly, a civilization that had collapsed, since that way there would be few direct records kept of his existence or lack of same. Preferably something that would have led to the upbringing that he actually had.

"Claiming to be something that you were not."

He was known for being large and powerful. He knew magic. He knew metalcraft. He worked well in the heat, from having spent much of his early life in a village in the desert...

"Something that you were not."

Many texts in the library suggest that listening to the advice of devils is never a good idea. Galamoth has never believed this. After all, the same texts frequently say the same thing about every being with which he interacts on a daily basis.

I went for the mythology texts. I had a lot of memorization to do.

"This place is a lot hotter and drier than I expected."

Galamoth turned around to look at the speaker, a fairly large creature that looked to be of amphibious lineage. Given the context, he could only assume that it was a new recruit. He smirked slightly.

"This is hell. I have no idea what else you would have expected. I think there's a pool for the sea creatures somewhere nearby."

The amphibian nodded, started to walk away, and then turned to face him again. "How can you stand it here? I thought reptiles were cold-blooded, too."

Galamoth shrugged. "It's not too bad. At least, compared to the desert."

"Oh, you're a desert lizard? Which one?"

This was his cue. "The Sahara. The wind made it a lot more annoying than it is around here, actually. You'd get sand in your scales, and the closest thing you'd ever get to relief was when the Nile flooded."

The amphibian nodded again, this time in what may have been sympathy. "I can only imagine. Where was that pool you mentioned?"

As Galamoth pointed in the general direction, he noticed that a number of demons had started to congregate around him.

"You're from Egypt?"

"Ancient or modern?"

"Were you a pharaoh?"

It had worked. He had caught their interest. "I don't think the ancient Egyptians would have allowed something like me to be a pharaoh. Most of them didn't even know I existed."

"You wouldn't be one of their gods, then."

"Are you half human?"

He shook his head. "Not quite. Are you familiar with the Petsuchos?"

None of the demons seemed to have heard of it. That would make things easier, even though his story was carefully crafted to fit even the accounts of those with that knowledge.

"It is the name of a great alligator that resided in the city of Crocodilopolis. Some believed it was an incarnation of Sobek, the crocodile god of fertility. Others thought it was only the god's pet."

He paused for effect. As he did so, he overheard one of the Greek demons explaining to another demon that Suchos was their name for the same god.

"Either way, the people of the city treated it with great respect, adorned it with jewels, and would mummify it upon its death."

One of the demons spoke up. "Its death? There was more than one?"

Galamoth smiled. "You catch on quickly. They were not truly gods, and I would be surprised if one showed up around here, despite their reputation."

"So why are you here?"

Galamoth gazed at a point at the far wall of the room. "I am Galamoth, the guardian of the Petsuchos. When a Petsuchos would die and get sent to the realm of Anubis, I would select the next crocodile to bear the title. Bearing the chosen one over my shoulder, I would trudge along the length of the Nile, keeping it safe from harm in the process. Once I arrived in the city of Crocodilopolis, I would bathe the crocodile in the river's waters to make it presentable, and then release it in the city to be captured by the populace. Then I would return to my home to sleep until my services were required again."

"You lived in the labyrinth of Arsinoe?" It was the Greek demon from before.

Galamoth shook his head. "I lived outside of the area populated by humans. Thus, I survived without interaction with them."

He nodded in understanding. Another demon piped up. "So how did you get here?"

Galamoth shrugged. "I am still not certain. After delivering a Petsuchos one year, I went into my usual repose and never awoke again. I can only assume from my studies that this coincided with the arrival of the Ptolemy clan, who guaranteed that the crocodiles would never be held in high regard there again.

"I have yet to determine why I would only arrive here a full seventeen centuries later, but I suppose even a guardian like myself would have been mortal."

A few of the demons walked away with sad expressions. Others continued to eye Galamoth with interest. He could hear some of them conversing with other demons that had just showed up.

"...he was large enough to carry a full-grown crocodile with one arm..."

"...long legs, well built from many trips across the dunes..."

"...not purely human, not purely crocodile... somehow a combination..."

The Greek spoke again. "So the ancient Greeks never knew about you. That makes sense. Your name would not have been translated to Galamos..."

Galamoth mentally winced at this. He had gotten used to his name, but hearing it mangled always reminded him of how he came by that name in the first place.

"During my life, I had extremely limited exposure to human culture, so I was unable to identify my surroundings or learn the language. I only recently discovered the name of the Petsuchos during my research. When I noticed that the story matched my memory, I realized from where I originated.

"Not even the gods favored me with their presence. I have a theory that may explain this. Even in Crocodilopolis, crocodiles were often considered a plague. They used to say that Sobek was a demon, you know.

"Thus, I knew nothing of the Greeks, and barely anything of the Egyptians. I cannot even find my name in the mythological texts."

The Greek seemed satisfied, although disappointed. Galamoth started to suspect that he had been hoping to compare notes.

The chatter continued. He had no idea how well his story would go over, and certainly didn't realize how many had been hoping to hear it.

The great deception had begun.