The road out of the forest eventually wound down into a quiet little valley. Fields of golden wheat swayed in the breeze, and a small cluster of cottages huddled together with smoke drifting lazily from chimneys. It was the kind of picturesque little village that would have made a painter squeal.
Luceris wrinkled his nose. "Ugh. Too rustic. I can practically smell the lack of indoor plumbing."
Sylas chuckled. "That's what you notice first?"
"What else am I supposed to notice? Oh, look, chickens running freely in the street. How quaint. How… unhygienic." Luceris side-stepped as a squawking hen flapped dangerously close to his boots. "I didn't conquer the Demon Realm just to be terrorized by poultry."
Caelum, ever the calm one, lifted his gaze to the village square. "There's a gathering. Many villagers are dressed in dark clothing. A funeral, it seems."
Luceris' golden eyes lit with curiosity. "A funeral? Interesting. Let's go see."
Sylas raised a silver brow. "Since when do you enjoy funerals?"
"I don't," Luceris said cheerfully, striding toward the crowd. "But humans are mysterious little creatures. If I'm going to eventually conquer them, I should study how they operate. What makes them tick. How they mourn. Knowledge is power, Pretty Boy Number Two."
"Stop calling me that," Sylas sighed, though he followed anyway.
The three demons drew some glances as they approached the square—after all, they were ridiculously handsome and dressed far too finely to be wandering travelers. Still, the villagers were too focused on the funeral to pay them much mind.
Luceris, however, noticed two small figures sitting apart under the shade of an old oak. Two children, no older than ten, pale-faced and solemn. They clutched each other's hands as they watched the procession of mourners.
Luceris tilted his head. "Hmmm."
Caelum caught the look in his eye and sighed. "Why are you suddenly so interested? You've never struck me as the compassionate type."
"Compassion?" Luceris scoffed, striding toward the children. "No, darling. Research. These humans are living in the societal stone age. This is like a field trip into a zoo enclosure. Fascinating!"
Sylas snorted. "You're terrible."
The children stiffened as Luceris crouched down before them, long sky-blue hair falling forward like a silken curtain. He smiled, all dazzling golden eyes and teeth far too perfect for the countryside.
"Hello, little dumplings," he said brightly. "Tell me, who died?"
The children blinked, startled by his bluntness. One boy, thin as a reed, swallowed hard. "It… it was Sister Elira. She—she's being buried today."
"Mmhm." Luceris tapped his chin. "And how did Sister Elira die? Trampled by goats? Mauled by geese? Choked on undercooked bread?"
Sylas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please don't traumatize them."
But the other child, a girl with braids, spoke up quietly. "She was hit… by a noble's carriage."
Luceris' smile froze. "Ah. Now that is interesting. Tell me everything."
The boy fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve. "Sister Elira was married. Her husband went to the city a year ago to work. He promised he would send letters. But… none ever came. She waited and waited. She went to the post office almost every week, hoping maybe the letters were lost."
The girl sniffled softly. "But there were never any letters. And she worried so much. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he was hurt. She didn't know. No one knew. Yesterday… she went again. On her way back, a noble's carriage came fast down the road. It hit her. She died right there."
Silence.
Even Luceris, who was usually ready with some sarcastic jab, stayed still for a moment.
The boy's voice dropped. "The noble gave her family money. Enough to cover the funeral. So everyone is here. But… her husband doesn't even know. He doesn't know his wife is gone."
The girl hugged her knees. "They… they really loved each other. And now…"
Luceris leaned back on his heels, eyes narrowing. "Wait. Hold on. Her husband doesn't know? Not at all? He's in the city, she's here, she died, and nobody told him?"
The children shook their heads miserably.
"Ridiculous," Luceris snapped. "Absolutely barbaric. What kind of civilization operates without basic communication systems? No phones, no mail tracking, no instant messaging—what is this, the technological dark ages?!"
Sylas blinked. "Mail… tracking?"
"Imagine this!" Luceris flung his arms out dramatically, startling the chickens nearby. "A woman dies tragically, her beloved husband knows nothing, all because some backwards society doesn't have cell towers or email servers! You see the problem, don't you?"
Caelum arched a brow. "Most would call it tragic. You call it… inefficient."
"In both senses!" Luceris fumed, pacing like an outraged professor. "Tragic for the couple, inefficient for the society! Do you know how much human productivity they lose just by relying on couriers and carrier pigeons? Hah!"
The children looked bewildered. Sylas crouched, patting their heads gently to soften the blow of Luceris' tirade. "What he means," Sylas said kindly, "is that your friend's story is very sad, and he's… upset on your behalf."
Luceris stopped mid-rant. He crouched again, peering at the children with sudden intensity. "Listen, dumplings. Someday, when I've conquered this world, you'll be able to send a message to the city instantly. Instantly! Your Sister Elira wouldn't have died not knowing. Your people won't have to suffer this—this delay!"
The children just blinked.
Sylas whispered aside to Caelum, "Do you think they even know what he's talking about?"
"Not in the slightest," Caelum murmured.
The church bell tolled, low and mournful, as the villagers carried a simple wooden coffin toward the graveyard. Women wept quietly. Men removed their hats. The children under the tree buried their faces against each other.
Luceris, for all his dramatics, went silent for a while. He wasn't moved by the ritual itself—he'd seen too much in his interstellar life for that—but the inefficiency, the helplessness, gnawed at him.
How many other husbands and wives were separated by distance, suffering simply because the world lacked basic tools? No radios. No telegraphs. No nothing.
It wasn't just tragic. It was primitive.
He hated primitive.
As the villagers dispersed, Luceris straightened and flicked imaginary dust off his borrowed cloak. "Alright. Field study complete."
Sylas gave him a sidelong glance. "And what exactly did you learn, Your Majesty?"
"That this world desperately needs me," Luceris said smugly. "Look at them. They cry, they suffer, they wait for letters that never arrive. It's pitiful. But once I introduce actual communication systems? Instant messaging, printed newspapers, maybe even cinema—ohhh, they'll worship me."
"You're supposed to be incognito," Caelum reminded him.
"I am incognito," Luceris protested. "Nobody suspects the pretty man with perfect hair is the Demon King." He flipped his sky-blue locks dramatically for emphasis.
Sylas stifled a laugh. "So what now?"
Luceris grinned, golden eyes glinting. "Now? We explore. We observe. We gather intel on the human dukes and kings. And we figure out where to plant the first cell tower."
"Cell… tower?" Caelum muttered.
"Don't worry," Luceris said breezily, turning on his heel. "You'll understand when you see it."
Behind them, the children watched the strange, dazzling man walk away, still arguing with his companions. They didn't understand half the words he said. But for some reason, their hearts felt lighter.
"What a strange person."
"Brother, do you think he is sick here." The little girl pointed at her head.
The boy glanced at the back of the man fading away and nodded solemnly.
"Yes."