☉NARIEL
I settled onto a sturdy stool at the bar, its surface cool and smooth, a far cry from the rickety furniture I had encountered in other taverns. There was the scent of ale.
I became aware of the demon figure across the bar, likely the barkeep, a hulking creature with gnarled horns jutting from his forehead. His lowered head indicated deference, a gesture reserved solely for Vaelin, the High Demon Lord—a status that surpassed any ordinary greeting, no one else merited such reverence, certainly not me. Like worship, his head remained bowed even as Vaelin took a seat beside me.
“You may depart.”
Pure command. No politeness or sort.
I sensed the demon's skin tighten, his muscles stiffening, but he bowed deeply and silently departed, never fully raising his head or speaking a word
