"My apologies for surprising you, Count Rubenhart."
Ulrich didn't loosen his grip. He maintained the pressure of his forearm against the demon's windpipe.
He recognized the man immediately.
Zagon.
This demon had served as his handler since the inception of their treasonous arrangement. The initial threads of their alliance were spun years ago, quietly forged in the shadowed margins of Ulrich's sixteenth year while his father still commanded the estate. But a teenage heir's promises held little tactical value to the demon hierarchy. The pact only crystallized into an active, dangerous reality the moment Ulrich claimed the title of Count following his father's death. The authority of the Rubenhart crest became his leverage.
Back then, the crippling reality of a shattered core had dominated Ulrich's every decision. A ruler devoid of innate power was something Ulrich couldn't accept.
