Evolution begins with an ant colony

The carriage rattled along the moonlit path, kicking up dust that swirled in the dim glow. Inside, Duke Radcliffe, his face etched with frustration, slumped against the plush upholstery.

The council meeting had been a disaster. The king, swayed by the words of the heroes and the stoic Lady Quindel, had decided on a balanced approach – a strategy that shackled Radcliffe's bold offensive plans.

"We're almost there, Your Grace," the coachman said, his voice surprisingly deep and smooth for a human of such humble stature.

Radcliffe barely heard him, his mind churning with a tempest of emotions. There was a flicker of unease too, a sense that the coachman's attentiveness was a touch too… keen.

As the carriage rolled through the grand gates of Radcliffe Manor, the massive building loomed before them, a proof of the duke's vast wealth and power.

Awaiting them at the entrance stood his wife, Duchess Eleanor, her silver hair shimmering under the moonlight. Relief washed over Radcliffe as he finally relaxed, the sight of his loving wife was soothing to his heart.

"My dearest husband," Eleanor greeted him with a warm embrace, clearly concerned, the way she held him tighter than usual. "The council meeting dragged on late, didn't it?"

"Indeed," Radcliffe sighed, stepping out of the carriage. "A tedious affair, filled with empty platitudes and misplaced caution."

He cast a fleeting glance at the coachman, who stood rigidly by the carriage, his back strangely straight, his gaze fixed on an unidentifiable point in the distance. A shiver ran down Radcliffe's spine, a sensation he couldn't quite explain. But Eleanor's concern brought him back to the present.

"Is everything alright, darling?" she inquired, her brow furrowed. "You seem… burdened."

"Just the matters of the kingdom on my shoulders, my love," Radcliffe murmured, forcing a smile. A lie, he knew, but it wouldn't do to burden Eleanor with the truth – the truth of his pact with the demons, a pact that fuelled his ambitions and threatened the very kingdom he swore to protect.

"I'll have the maids draw a bath for you," Eleanor said, gently pulling him towards the manor. "And perhaps a light supper? You must be famished."

"That sounds lovely, my dear," Radcliffe replied, grateful for her support. "But first, I need to check on a few things in my study. Urgent matters."

Eleanor's brow furrowed again, but she simply nodded. "Of course, darling. Take your time. I'll have the supper ready whenever you're done."

With a lingering kiss, Radcliffe slipped away, his steps quickening as he hurried towards the study. There, behind the heavy oak doors, awaited the true reason for his frustration, he paused the door to his study open, the massive oak door creaked softly as it swung open, revealing a woman lounging in a plush armchair, her crimson dress shimmering in the firelight.

Her beauty was otherworldly, captivating, but beneath the flawless feturs, a predatory glint flickered in her eyes. Beside her, cloaked in shadows, stood a tall figure, his features obscured by darkness.

"Duke Radcliffe," Leandora greeted him, her voice a purr that sent shivers down his spine. "It seems the council meeting did not go as planned."

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Radcliffe grimaced. "Far from it. The king, swayed by those pathetic heroes and that hypocritical Lady Quindel, has opted for a ridiculously cautious strategy."

"Disappointing," Leandora remarked, her voice devoid of emotion. "But expected. Humans are creatures of habit, slow to embrace change, even when it promises advancement."

"I tried," Radcliffe insisted, a touch of desperation creeping into his voice. "I argued for a bold offensive, a strategy that would cripple the demons in a single stroke. But the others… they wouldn't budge."

"Try harder, Duke," Leandora said, her tone laced with a hint of menace. "Our patience is wearing thin. Your territory, once so prosperous, will become the next target if you fail to deliver."

Radcliffe had made a deal with the demons. Seeing that his territory was the one closest to the capital, the demons offered to ally with him. In exchange for putting on a show of his forces going up against the demons, they would easily slip through with his help, arriving at the capital much sooner. Their goal: to take the king's head and claim victory in this war.

Radcliffe swallowed hard. He'd made his deal with the demons out of a thirst for power, they promised to expand his influence beyond the borders of his own territory. He'd envisioned himself as a king, a ruler of a vast empire. But now, the weight of that deal felt heavier than ever.

"I-I understand," he stammered, his eyes flickering nervously towards the shadowy figure beside Leandora. "I will double my efforts. But you must understand, those wretched heroes… especially Evan… they are a constant thorn in my side."

"Evan," Leandora echoed the name, a flicker of interest crossing her eyes.

Leandora glanced over at the shadowy figure beside her, Tom, the demonic hero currently disguised as a human soldier. "He is becoming an anchor, a thorn in our side that needs to be dealt with," she stated, her voice dripping with disdain.

Tom stepped out of the shadows, his the shadows clinging to his firm dissipating, revealing his body. Crimson markings glowed faintly on his exposed pale skin, hinting at the demonic power he held beneath the surface. "I can handle him," he rumbled, his voice deep and gravelly. "He's a skilled fighter, I'll give him that, but arrogance often precedes a downfall. Given the chance, I can eliminate him."

Radcliffe perked up at this. "You'll fight him? Here? Now?"

Leandora chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. "Patience, Duke. There will be a time and place for a duel. But right now, patience is key. A hero won't fall for a trap within the kingdom walls, he would also have the knights to support him. We need him back on the front lines, where chaos reigns and weaknesses are exposed."

Tom nodded curtly. "Understood. I'll bide my time. But when the opportunity arises, I won't hesitate."

Leandora turned back to Radcliffe, her gaze piercing. "See to it, Duke. Seeing as how you couldn't fuffil you first task, then I need you to escalate this war, not fizzle out in some half-hearted stalemate. Weaken the human forces, demoralize their heroes, and create an environment ripe for our victory. Then, and only then, will your true reward be within reach."

Radcliffe met her gaze, a mixture of ambition and fear flickering in his eyes. "I understand. I'll do everything in my power to tip the scales in your favor."

Leandora gave a satisfied smirk. "Excellent. Now, enough talk. Enjoy your supper, Duke. We'll be in touch soon, with further instructions."

In a blink, both Leandora and Tom vanished, leaving Radcliffe alone in the dimly lit study. He stood there for a long moment, the weight of his pact pressing down on him. He craved power, but the cost, he was starting to realize, might be far steeper than he had originally anticipated.

With a heavy sigh, he turned and headed out of the study, the image of Evan's stoic face flashing in his mind. A game of chess was being played, and the stakes were rising with every move.