"Demogorgon, stop playing dead! How are we supposed to break through this now? Damn it, don't tell me there's some goddamn passage hidden somewhere in this pile of junk?" Solam ignored the reactions of his son and subordinates, instead furiously dissing Demogorgon in his mind. After spending this time together, Solam had actually found Demogorgon rather amusing. What was that saying again? Simple-minded children had more fun, and lunatics had broader minds.
Demogorgon—no, these two people—never settled down even in ordinary times. Whenever they had nothing to do, they liked plotting schemes and conspiracies. More precisely, Aameul usually did the planning, while Hethradiah messed things up from the side.
Thus, under normal circumstances, the moment a plan was conceived, Hethradiah would derail it with his interference. By the end, what the two of them were discussing had nothing whatsoever to do with the original conspiracy. Solam found this uniquely hilarious; it even felt like listening to a comedy routine.
Of course, that did not mean Demogorgon's plans were laughable. On the contrary, every one of the Demon Prince's schemes was incomparably wicked and depraved, enough to make ordinary people frown just hearing about them. Unfortunately, Solam did not care much about that, because those conspiracies had little to do with him. After all, they had a contract: the Demon Prince could never become Solam's enemy.
In truth, Aameul had devised quite a few plans concerning Solam, but Hethradiah had ruined every single one. Hethradiah was extremely short-tempered and hated all that fancy, convoluted nonsense—or at least, that was how he appeared. Thus, he never launched into lengthy arguments against Aameul's plans. His response was always simple, just one sentence.
"We signed a contract with Solam! There's nothing we can do to him!"
Aameul knew that perfectly well. He was merely