I was making quite a habit out of becoming involved with individuals more well-educated and generally, it seemed, superior to myself. The demon began relating the events of his life and our world starting on the day he first learned of me, apparently, because the first thing he said was, “The Lady Margine acts like such a spoiled cunt.” He didn't actually use the word cunt, of course, but it comes closest in the English language, I believe, to the Infernal term he actually did use.

At any rate, I became quite dramatic almost immediately, spouting empty threats and generally behaving very much like a bit of a spoiled cunt, myself. He seemed very bored with my exhortations and calmly explained that he did say “acts” and not “is”. He briefly expanded on this by saying, “The manner in which a person behaves is not necessarily who that person is. Do try to remember that, stupid boy.”

The demon Varchiald Xix went on to explain that the girl had been accompanied by a pair of the Lord's personal guards and was expected, of course, to behave in a certain manner. The demon seemed somewhat impressed that the girl came to his shop and approached him with the expectation that the demon could assist her in the way that one might assume one could purchase fish from a fish monger. The reason this was a source of a bit of delight on the part of the demon is because his reputation was finally beginning to precede him. He came to discover, however, that this was not entirely true.

The Lady's Stigmatic, who was also present but so very good at being innocuous despite its unique nature that it was as a shadow upon the wall, knew of the demon. It was privy to a great many things, of course; for what one Sister knows, they all know (and I didn't know that, of course). That one of the Sisters might have learned of the demon's, as he put it, “special services” was entirely likely, and almost mundane.

Rahamel left her escort outside and entered the demon's shop with only the Stigmatic in tow. She wanted Varchiald Xix to employ his secret methods and identify an individual for her. Supplying the demon with a single hair of mine and then purchasing some sort of small medallion on a long chain, she took her leave and returned directly to the Keep.

How the demon went about “identifying” me, as he put it, he would not say. I have since learned a great deal more about it, but I am not going to explain this.

I do apologize, dear reader, but what would probably pass for dark magic is best left in Hell and the hands of Hell's children. To even hint around or describe could have the most disastrous consequences. Do not think I am sworn to silence (I wouldn't care, anyway) or that I worry for the fate of your species (because I don't). I keep this from you, dear reader, for entirely selfish reasons like my own continued existence.

To be blunt, there are forces in this Universe with which one should simply not trifle. Not Infernal “magic”, mind you, but the possible results of the same. Some secrets are best kept and some hidden things really and truly ought to be left that way.

And so the demon learned of me a great many things and went on to tell me some of them. Oh, yes; he held things back. It was probably wise of him to do so. I am going to present, at present, only what I was told at that time. Again, it is more fun to make you wait, as it were, right along with me.