Asmodeus approached the summoning portal. He enjoyed being summoned as it had become a theatrical sport for him. The humans never knew what to expect, so he could do just whatever he pleased and they would think it was normal. First, he would perform his theatrics, then he would torment his summoners as was tradition by tantalizing them with their most lustful of wishes before snatching them away. This time, he intended to emerge from the pentagram as a beautiful Nymph. If he was lucky he would stumble across a human that knew of Greek Mythology and really confuse them. He flew into the summoning portal with the aim of emerging as quickly as possible so it may appear that he swooped in. All for sport.

He slowly opened his eyes, just for dramatic effect, and began to bat his eyelids softly. He had emerged in a beautiful mansion. He was taken aback for a moment and grew excited as he admired the beauty of his summoning room, he greatly enjoyed tormenting the privileged. White marble and gold crested pillars adorned the four corners of the room, mauveine curtains decorated a classical four post bed and draped the huge windows closed to darken the room. Only the light of the candles in his pentagram lit the room; but Asmodeus’s eyes were keen for darkness. Two onyx lions perched at the door like guardians of the room. The room was festooned with living orchids of every color and a shower of never-ending rose petals fell from the ceiling. A white gold harp with yellow gold strings and a familiar looking embellished horn sat next to the only other occupant in the room, who sat aloof in an oversized burgundy chair with golden tassels. Asmodeus’s next ‘play-thing’ sat casually with his legs draped over the arms of chair with his head laid back on the opposite arm, as if left unamused by Asmodeus’s grand Nymph entrance.

“Asmodeus!” exclaimed Asmodeus’s soon to be sufferer, “Asmodeus, you know your tricks do not work here, though I am quite sure your act would have been spectacular”.

Asmodeus looked down to see his unadulterated body. He found the carefully enunciated voice familiar but did not recognize it yet.

“Where am I?”, Asmodeus’s deep voice bellowed and echoed in the pristine room.

“Asmodeus, it pains me to ask for your help, but here I am with needs that only a demon can fulfill”, Asmodeus finally realized who his summoner was with the verbose language and detached tone. “I find myself in quite the quandary that I believe only your unique and limited skills may be able to resolve within a timely manner”.

“Dammit, Israfel, how dare you summon the Daemon of Lust and then not pay owed homage! Further, you will refer to me with my appointed honorific of Daemon Prince!”, Asmodeus rebuked.

“Oh, come now. Calm for your old friend. Do you not recall how you ascended to the rank of Demon”, Israfel paused, “‘Daemon’ of lust, prince of demons, and king of the first three levels of hell? Certainly, I do not need to burden myself with such archaic rites and rituals. Next you will tell me I must send you a letter by cherub and ask you politely for your presence!” continued Israfel as he attempted to reprimand Asmodeus. “No, but you would do well to remember your place and my title.” he snapped. Israfel was rarely concise except when it came to demanding deference.

“Israfel, you still have not told me where I am”, commanded Asmodeus, ignoring Israfel’s demands. Asmodeus grew tired of Israfel’s posturing.

“Well you stand in my luxurious room of course. I thought you would have figured that out by now with all the beauty and song.” Israfel responded. Had you not known better, you may mistake Israfel as the Daemon of Pride as there was nothing he enjoyed more than bragging about his possessions and doing so in the most condescending way possible. Asmodeus had unwittingly given Israfel the perfect prompt to do so. “Wasn’t my golden-stringed golden-harp playing itself enough? How about my sacred horn!? What about…”

“ENOUGH!”, roared Asmodeus.

“You are no fun. Anyways, I did not summon you to remind you of your rank and how you got it, nor did I summon you to remind you how great my life is. I summoned you because I have job for you”, relented Israfel. “By my count you still owe me.”

“I refuse to be a pawn in your games again Israfel!” argued Asmodeus.

“You will do precisely as I tell you, exactly when I tell you to do it! Remember, I gave you the first three levels of hell, and I can take them away.” Israfel raised his voice in anger for the first time in the brief encounter.

“It would be a shame if the other Archangels were to realize just how unsavory your rise to power was. They may even oust you on the next communion of the Angels!”, Asmodeus subtly threatened.

Israfel calmed. “Indeed. You will do no such thing though. We both know that if I go down, you will go down as well. In the meantime, you will do my bidding”.

Asmodeus turned his head to the side and looked off in the distance, he breathed heavily through his nostrils. The smell of sulfur began to fill the room. He knew Israfel was right. The problem was that the life of an ousted Daemon Prince was far worse than the life of an ousted Archangel. With Asmodeus’s luck Israfel would take his place as Prince of Demon’s in his fall and Asmodeus would end up a lesser demon serving Israfel.

“What is your bidding Israfel.”