The conference room was exactly what one would expect from a demon fortress. It was cold and was barely decorated.

A large table of polished black ice dominated the center, surrounded by chairs that looked more like thrones than seats.

Loryn sat at one end, his gaunt skeletal form hunched over a stack of documents. His bone-thin fingers held papers with surprising delicacy despite their appearance.

His stitched-together face showed serious concentration, multiple eyes scanning text simultaneously.

Kaedor occupied the opposite end, his mind already tallying numbers and calculating profit margins from the reports before him.

His eyes moved with practiced efficiency, occasionally glancing up as if mentally adding another column to an invisible ledger.

Rynath sat between them, her serpentine form coiled in her chair with elegant efficiency.

Her eyes tracked both generals with the careful attention of someone used to gathering intelligence from body language.

"The eastern patrols report decreased resistance," Loryn said, his voice carrying multiple tones from his various vocal cords. "The territory is stabilizing. We should consider expanding our operations into the neighboring sectors."

"Expansion requires resources," Kaedor countered immediately. "Resources we're currently allocating to rebuilding after the Kragoth incident. The cost-benefit analysis doesn't support aggressive expansion at this time."

"Everything is about costs with you," Loryn muttered. "Some opportunities are worth the investment."

The door opened, interrupting their discussion.

Ashira entered carrying a stack of documents, her small frame almost hidden behind the pile of papers.

She moved quickly, nervously, her pointed ears flattening slightly as three sets of eyes turned toward her.

The generals barely acknowledged her presence. Loryn glanced up briefly before returning to his notes.

Kaedor's gaze passed over her as if she were furniture.

Only Rynath gave her any real attention, and even that was minimal, a brief flicker of recognition before dismissing her as unimportant.

"Documents for review and signature," Ashira said quietly, setting the stack on the table. "Requisition forms, patrol schedules, resource management…"

"Yes, yes," Kaedor interrupted, waving one hand dismissively. "Just leave them. We'll process them."

Ashira hesitated, her fingers tightening on the last few papers in her hands. "There's also… I don't know if Master Pho wanted me to inform you about the slave pits, but…"

That got their attention.

All three generals looked up simultaneously, their previous discussion forgotten.

The slave pits had been a point of contention since Kragoth's death, and everyone knew Pho would need to make a decision about leadership soon.

"What about the pits?" Rynath asked, her voice carrying careful neutrality.

"Master Pho has made his choice," Ashira said, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's selected the new overseer."

The conference room went silent.

Loryn's multiple eyes fixed on Ashira with sudden intensity. "Who?"

"He didn't tell me the name," Ashira admitted. "But..." She hesitated, seeming to debate whether to continue.

"But what?" Kaedor's golden eyes narrowed slightly.

"I also heard that Master Pho sparred with someone this morning. A Dread-rank demon, and that demon survived."

Her words hung in the air like smoke.

Loryn leaned back in his chair, his skeletal frame settling into the throne-like seat. "Jakar."

"Obviously Jakar," Kaedor agreed. "He's the only Dread-rank demon who could survive a spar with Pho."

Rynath said nothing, but something flickered in her serpentine eyes.

Not surprise, exactly. More like confirmation of something she'd already suspected.

"Well," Loryn said after a moment, his voice carrying grudging respect. "I suppose that settles the debate about his capabilities. If Pho chose him for the pits, then he's proven himself worthy."

"Worthy and useful are different things," Kaedor countered. "Pho chose him because he's strong enough to control the slaves and smart enough to manage the operation. That doesn't mean he'll align with any of our interests."

"He's been observing each of us," Rynath pointed out quietly. "Gathering information. Making decisions about which alliances to pursue." Her eyes moved between Loryn and Kaedor. "The question is, which of us will he choose?"

"He'll choose me," Loryn said with confidence. "I've been teaching him. He understands the value of creation, of building something beyond anything most demons think possible. He sees the potential in my work."

"He'll choose me," Kaedor contradicted. "I gave him Oscar. A legendary weapon. That kind of generosity creates loyalty. And loyalty is worth more than any amount of knowledge."

Both generals looked at Rynath, waiting for her to make her own claim.

She remained silent, her expression unreadable.

After a moment, she simply said, "We'll see."

The tension in the room shifted, becoming almost playful despite the underlying competitiveness. Three generals, each confident in their own assessment, each certain that Jakar would ultimately align with their interests.

"This is ridiculous," Loryn said, though his tone carried amusement rather than anger. "We're arguing about a demon who just became overseer of the slave pits. He's not that important."

"Says the general who just claimed he'd obviously choose you," Kaedor shot back with a slight smirk.

"I said he SHOULD choose me. There's a difference."

"Gentlemen," Rynath interrupted smoothly. "Perhaps we should focus on the actual documents rather than speculating about political alignments that may never materialize."

Loryn and Kaedor exchanged glances, then both reached for the stack of papers Ashira had brought. The administrator had already retreated to the doorway, clearly wanting to escape before the generals remembered she existed.

"You may go," Rynath said without looking at her.

Ashira fled.

The generals divided the documents between them, each taking a portion to review and sign.

Standard procedure, requisition forms for the flesh factory, allocation reports for the vaults, patrol schedules for the outer territories.

Nothing unusual. Nothing that required special attention.

They worked in relative silence, each focused on their own stack. Quills moved across parchment, signatures flowing with practiced ease.

Then two documents flared briefly and burst into flames.

The parchment burned in a flash of heat that left nothing behind, no ash or residue, just the faint scent of burnt paper.

A second document ignited moments later. Same instant combustion. Same total destruction.

All three generals' heads snapped up simultaneously.

They stared at each other across the table, confusion evident on every face.

"What was that?" Loryn's voice carried multiple tones of confusion.

"Did your documents just…" Kaedor started.

"Mine didn't burn," one of them said.

The three generals looked at each other, then down at the papers in front of them.

Two of them had signed something that immediately self-destructed.

One of them still had unsigned documents sitting on the table.

"Those weren't standard administrative forms," Kaedor said slowly, his instincts screaming that something was very wrong. "Administrative documents don't burn after signature. That's binding magic."

"Blood contracts," Rynath added, her voice carrying certainty. "They seal immediately upon signature and leave no physical trace. They're used for absolute control."

Loryn's skeletal hand clenched into a fist. "What did we just sign? What terms did we agree to?"

"I don't know," one of the generals admitted. "The document burned before I could examine it properly."

"Who signed?" Rynath's eyes moved between her fellow generals. "Which two of us are bound?"

Silence.

None of them wanted to admit they'd signed without reading.

None of them wanted to reveal they'd been tricked into accepting unknown terms.

And most importantly, none of them knew for certain who the other signers were.

Having stared at their own documents they never looked at each other until it was over.

None of them noticed the small smile that flickered across one general's face.

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