The Midnight Sun

Davous presently wakes up from his slumped position, signs the paperwork Madame Naoki left for him, and stumbles back down the stairs.

He is caught by two burly men and pinned to a wall before he reaches the public area. A man wearing an officer's tunic and cap in feldgrau approaches him, tightening his leather gloves. Perhaps the only differences that could be spotted between him and an officer from another time and place would be that most deaths-head caps do not feature horned skulls, nor do most officers have glowing red eyes.

"Haha, I see you got lost in the wrong century again," Davous says with little mirth. He forces out a laugh, but it sounds more like a sputter.

"Well?" inquires the devil.

"Oh, right. I'd say Isra's got plumbing figured out, no wells."

Slap. "The job?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. The job." Davous can feel his cheek burning. "I got the job, yeah. 'S a bit of a misnomer, though. Jobs at restaurants and casinos, they got their set hours, you know, none of this demon-summoning biz... I'd call it a... a... a service, yeh, a contracted service."

The devil glowers. "Enough blabbering. You say you have the job. What is it you officially do?"

"I, ah, groundskeeper? I keep fighting from happening on the grounds--" Slap. Davous stops.

"Bouncer, security. Something like that?"

"Eh, given we're using demons, maybe, ah, crusher, right?" Slap.

"That is sufficient," the devil general declares. "Hell is now officially vested in the perpetuation of the establishment known as the Midnight Sun, that debauchery, gambling, and alcoholism may thrive in a controlled environment geared toward such purposes. You are free to go."

The demon-warriors release Davous and vanish, along with the general, though Davous senses that the other general from their previous "meeting" was somewhere in or around the Sun. He entered the dining area and took a seat for lunch, muttering to himself, "They avoided calling me Davous again."

Maelik looked at the door outside with a profound longing, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about that strange woman from before, her serene expression was burned into his retinas. He wondered how it felt to be at peace like that, what bliss it must be to not constantly feel a smoldering rage for everything tainting whatever joys one felt. The sight of her sparked a curiousity that refused to die in the demon, and he was dying to satisfy it. Seconds felt like hours as he stood there with eyes fixated on that door, thoughts of simply being in her proximity again plaguing his mind.

"I'm such an idiot! I shouldn't have forced her aura off of me, and I certainly should have spoken to her while I had the chance! Damn it all!" He gnawed on his lips and his stare became a wide eyed unblinking glare.

Finally he couldn't take it anymore, with a determined growl the demon got down on all fours and sniffed the ground where the angelic being stood, taking in her (rather pleasant) scent and

"Skarlet, I'll be heading out for a bit. The kitchen staff are in fine shape today so you shouldn't run into many problems, as for me... Well a hot blooded male is going to what what he's gotta do. Tootles!"

Then like a bloodhound he was off, following the scent's trail straight out the door and out into the city at large.

<Exit to St. James Boutique>

Megan stumbles into the Midnight Sun with her pack of provisions on her back. Her staff, as always, was sticking out of one of the flaps. She wearily makes her way to the bar and slumps over it, "Iiii would like an ale... AND a room."

-THUNK-

Her head clunked onto the bar from exhaustion and she lay it there for a while until she lifted it up into her hands.

Davous goes back to his quarters after lunch and reads through a favorite tome of his: Thefif on the Arcane Artf of Demon-Summoning and Necromancy. He turns to his favorite chapter:

Up in her office, Madame Naoki sits as her desk, as she tends to. Before her, lies not any employment paperwork, jewelry, or or of the usual clutter. Instead, three unique documents sit side by side. On the far left, a deed. A deed, to a plot of land up in the Nokari Mountains. With the recent annexation- or merging, if you’d prefer, of the Nokari Mountains, the lands of the mountains are now Isranian territory. And in her recent trip to The Citadel, Madame Naoki had wasted no time in purchasing a number of prime locations. A small stack of deeds were already safely filed away with other like documents, and she plans to make more acquisitions once she has more information about the area.

Resting in the center of the desk, is an old, yet carefully preserved bit of parchment: a sketch. One of Naoki’s own, drawn some number of years ago. It depicts a house. A rather nice house at that, from several angles. She had attempted- with what limited knowledge of drafting she could garner from some outdated, secondhand tome, to professionally depict a home. The drawing features many peaked roofs, and large, spacious rooms.

As she sits, considering her old work, Naoki chuckles inwardly at her naivety. She had paid no heed to structural integrity. If constructed, each and every one of those wide open rooms would collapse, unable to support a ceiling without any sort of bracing or pillars. She had also completely declined to include any sort of kitchen or food storage. Hardly something she could hand over to a construction team.

The third document is a long scroll, upon which Madame Naoki is creating a list. A few of the items under the heading ‘Study’ are as follows.

• Wraparound desk
  
• Freestanding fireplace
• Connection to M.Bed and library
• Numerous sturdy shelves
• Cabinet for chess set

As she constructs this list of lists, she often finds herself wondering. How would one go about building a greenhouse? What sorts of materials could a fireplace be constructed of? What exactly went into building a professional kitchen, and how wide ought the counters to be?

Hmm. She would need to consult others. Filing the land deed and drawing away into the closest available drawer, she takes her list, quill and a small bottle of ink. These items in hand, she exists her office, and descends down to the first floor.

On the way down the stairs, she performs her habitual overlook of the bar, though her mind is elsewhere. Things seem to be running smoothly enough.

She makes her way back to the kitchen. Pushing the door open with her elbow, Naoki pauses for a moment on the threshold to fully appreciate the assortment of appetizing aromas that characterize the kitchen. She reflects for a moment, on the immense leap in quality that recently affected the kitchen, and the individual who heralded it, as well as the incredible boost in business that the expert chefs have brought about. However, a cursory examination of the chefs currently working their unique brand of magic reveals no horns, black scales, or any of the other very distinctive characteristics that make obvious the presence of the individual she seeks.

Her musing is interrupted as a server approaches from behind, with a polite request to be pardoned. Naoki returns an approving nod, and steps aside, out of the kitchen door. The server continues into the kitchen, likely to obtain their next set of meals to serve.

She bites her lip. He must be out. Hm. Well. She didn’t have much else planned for the day, and it was about time for a snack, anyway.

Quill and paper still in hand, Madame Naoki selects a vacant table near the kitchen entrance, and selects a seat at that table that allows her an excellent vantage of the main entryway. Though she doesn’t usually take dine on the first floor, she figures it might be an interesting change of pace from the silence of her quarters. As a member of the wait staff approaches, Naoki politely requests a plate of cookies. Before long, they arrive, still warm from the oven.

Over the course of the next short while, Madame Naoki would sit there, in her seat near the kitchen, cookie in one hand, quill in other, her gaze wandering from the page before her to the bar around, alternating between making additions to her list, and scanning the room. In addition to watching the door for Maelik's return, she also keeps her gaze tuned for Raulio. A few days have passed since her delivery, and she hasn’t heard from him since. He’s likely caught up in his work, she supposes. He seems the sort to get caught up in his art. Though, she would like to commission the work she mentioned at their first meeting sometime soon. She finds the whole situation rather pleasant, taking a measure of pride in each and every satisfied customer and transaction that takes place around her, finding satisfaction in watching the business she's built operate, and knowing that she would soon leverage that success to actualize one of her oldest aspirations.

Madame Naoki raises her right hand and waves to Maelik.

“Miftah Ulf…”

She stops, realizing that her mouth is still filled with cookie. The quill continues to wave about in the air as she finishes chewing and swallows the bits of cookie. She begins again, now free of that delicious speech impediment.

“Mister Ulciscor! Do you have a moment? I’d like to ask for your advice.”

“Excellent. I’d like to consult your knowledge of the kitchen. Not of cooking, mind you, but of the kitchen itself. Keep this next bit of information under your hat, (I’m sure that won’t be hard) but I’m soon going to be constructing a new facility. One with a kitchen, even. And I’d like to know, what goes into making a kitchen that is well designed, and easy for a cook to use? Surely, there are some materials for counters that work better than others, some arrangement of cabinets and ovens that allow the chef to move from one step to the next easily. Perhaps even some nonstandard cooking tools or devices that would make things easier. I'm unsure, so I'd like to consult your expertise.  My goal is to construct a mid-size kitchen, fit for up to… perhaps... four chefs to work in simultaneously, that has all of the equipment necessary to prepare most any reasonably standard dish.”

She pauses, to take another small bite of cookie, careful to finish chewing before continuing.

“And, in addition to that, I’d also like to offer to upgrade The Sun’s kitchen here however you see fit. What I’d like from you now is an overview of the sorts of things an ideal kitchen might contain, at least as far as materials and exotic apparatus goes. For example, if you think that marble countertops are the best, I’ll need to locate and negotiate with a merchant that sells marble. Later, I’m going to ask you to spend a short while with Mr. Ruben- our architect, work out the exact details of the layout.”

Naoki’s quill matches the speed of Maelik’s tongue as it dances across her list, recording each detail in her light, waving script.

“...and a flaying station. Got it. Mr. Ruben’s room is on the second floor, fourth door on the right if you’re coming up the main staircase. I’ll make him aware of all of these things here. He doesn’t really... sleep these days, so if you would, whenever you find yourself with the time, please drop in on him and work out how exactly the kitchen ought to be laid out.”

She looks over all of that which she just wrote. Hm. Where would she find slabs of jet?

“Excellent. I’ll start working on these things, and purchase in sufficient quantities to both construct the new location, and retrofit your workplace. If there’s anything else you think of in the interim, let me know.”

Placing the quill down to the side, and capping her bottle of ink, Madame Naoki turns to face Maelik directly.

“What questions do you have for me?”

Naoki nods slowly, knowing better than to betray her amusement. She reflects, that at the time, she never imagined that all of those self control exercises would be oh-so-very beneficial to her health.

“I… suppose I would be the right person to ask about that sort of thing, wouldn’t I... You’re correct, the death of one’s partner generally does put a damper on the whole affair. Generally something to be… avoided.”

She stands, and begins to roll up her list, careful to avoid smudging the still-wet ink.

“I would be happy to share my... extensive expertise on the matter. However, it’s hardly a discussion topic for polite company, so let’s take this upstairs.”

If Maelik decides to follow, Naoki would take her ink, list, and quill, and lead the way back up to her office. On the way up the stairs, a realization hits her, and she shakes her head to herself in silent mirth. Not ten minutes earlier, she had been contemplating plans for her dream home, and now she was about to offer sexual advice to a millennium-old Lord of Hell. Life is a strange, beautiful thing, she muses.