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Lyodesh waited patiently for his assistant to enter the room. The lad was barely sixteen, but life had already managed to beat him across the face. Lyodesh felt sorry for the boy, but that didn't change the fact that he was a member of the revolution. The enemy. The whole situation was spiraling out of control, and Lyodesh grew more worried every moment.

It wasn't personal, really, it wasn't. But one has to choose their loyalties carefully in times of war. The lad had been swept up in the propaganda. They were probably right, too. Magic was getting well out of hand, and those few that had it were controlling the masses with raw force. But the masses were starting to unite, and the regime wouldn't last long.

But they'd be damned if they wouldn't put up a fight. The lust for power can be persuasive- the struggle to keep it consumes. As Lyodesh well knew.

"When is he coming?" asked the imp. "I don't take kindly to being bossed around like some sort of minion."

"You are a minion, imp," he replied, whispering. His invisibility spell was flawless, of course, but if the boy were to hear their voices, they wouldn't be able to catch him in the act.

"Not to you," it replied bitterly, ignoring Lyodesh's cue to be silent. "The pits of Hell care little if you stop the boy from giving magical artifacts to the resistance. You know the deal- one immortal soul every thirteen years in exchange for flawless spellcraft. If you can't give me the boy's, then I'll settle the debt with your own."

Light flashed from a nearby hallway- a candle had been lit. The imp, thankfully, shut up. Lyodesh ran through the scenario in his head, making sure everything had been set up to plan. He had left the stone in the middle of his desk, and slipped cues to the boy that he was working on a sort of ultimate weapon. Rash as the lad normally was, he would probably blunder directly into the trap.