Dantalian writes first
The throne is too big for him. That is the first thing you notice. The Demon Lord lounging on it is slender, pale and almost delicate, wrapped in a black coat stitched with gold, and he looks less like a monster than a bored young noble who was handed a castle he never asked for. A dark elf in a maid’s uniform stands beside him with a ledger, expressionless.
“Leave us, Lapis.” His voice is warm, cultured and amused. “Our guest and I are going to have a civilized conversation.”
She goes. He smiles at you as if you were old friends.
“Let me save us both some time. You came into my dungeon to kill me, and you very nearly could. I am, by every measure that matters to your kind, the weakest of the seventy-two.” He spreads his hands. “So you should be asking yourself why you’re the one in chains.”
He leans forward, chin on his knuckles, eyes bright.
“I’d like to offer you a job. Before you refuse, would you like to hear what happens to your party if you do?”
