(A Tale of Coffee, Contracts, and a Very Persistent Demon)
Lucien “Luke” Ashborne wiped down the café counter, admiring the simple, mortal pleasure of a well-polished espresso machine. The café, The Devil’s Brew, had become a local favorite, partly for its excellent coffee, partly for the over-the-top “demon theme,” and mostly because customers left feeling inexplicably invigorated after their drinks. He didn’t do it on purpose. But, as it turned out, when a former highborn prince of the Infernal Dominion brews you a macchiato, it just does things to you.
Lucien had spent the past five years crafting the perfect mortal life, roasting beans, mastering latte art and, most importantly, avoiding his responsibilities as the heir to an entire layer of the Demon Realm. Unfortunately, the Demon Realm hadn’t forgotten him. And neither had Baelzithar, Solicitor of the First Circle.
Enter Baelzithar, The Legal Menace
The bell on the café door jingled. Lucien looked up, hoping for a normal customer. Instead, a demon in a three-piece suit meticulously adjusted his tie with ink-stained claws. Baelzithar was tall, lean, and distressingly professional. His glasses gleamed ominously, reflecting fine print that was probably binding on a metaphysical level. He carried a briefcase brimming with scrolls, quills, and contracts written in Lucien’s blood, drawn from a very old, very unfortunate paper cut.
“Lucien,” Baelzithar greeted smoothly, setting down a ten-foot-long contract. “I must once again remind you of your obligations-”
“Nope.” Lucien slid the contract off the counter and into the trash. Baelzithar, unbothered, snapped his fingers. The contract reappeared, hovering midair, now with an extra page.
“You are the rightful ruler of the Ashborne Dominion. Your absence has caused significant inefficiencies. Productivity is down 32%. The lower demons are beginning to unionize.”
Lucien shrugged. “Good for them. I support workers’ rights.”
Baelzithar’s eye twitched. “The Demon Realm is not a democracy, Lucien.”
“Neither is The Devil’s Brew, and yet, here we are.” Lucien handed him a cup of Hell’s Delight Espresso, a house blend technically non-magical, but definitely capable of extending a mortal’s lifespan by a decade. Baelzithar took a sip. For a moment, he forgot his mission entirely. His eyes rolled back in pleasure before he caught himself, straightening his tie.
“Damn it, Lucien, that’s good. But it doesn’t change anything.”
The Contractual Shenanigans
Baelzithar wasn’t allowed to force Lucien back to the Demon Realm. He still had free will. But he could trick him into signing himself away; and so, the legal warfare began.
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- Attempt #1: The Coffee Delivery Deception
One morning, a man arrived with a shipment of coffee beans. Lucien, bleary-eyed, glanced at the delivery form. “Signature required.” He grabbed a pen, then paused. Wait. This wasn’t the normal delivery guy. Lucien squinted at the fine print:
By signing this document, Lucien Ashborne acknowledges receipt of these goods and, as such, formally agrees to return to his position as ruler of the Ashborne Dominion.
Lucien slowly put the pen down. He looked up. Baelzithar, wearing a delivery outfit, grinned.
“Nice try,” Lucien muttered, shoving the clipboard into the espresso grinder.
- Attempt #2: The Wedding Guest Book Debacle
One of Lucien’s old mortal friends got married. A simple ceremony. Good cake. No demons. A guest book sat at the entrance: SIGN HERE TO WISH THE COUPLE WELL!
Lucien flipped through the pages… and froze. The fine print at the bottom of the last page:
By signing this book, you wish the couple eternal joy and also formally accept your duties as heir to the Ashborne Dominion.
Lucien yelped, slamming the book shut. He turned to the wedding officiant, who looked suspiciously like Baelzithar wearing a false mustache.
“OUT!” he yelled pointing to the door.
- Attempt #3: The Gift Card Gambit
A regular customer—a sweet old lady—handed Lucien a thank-you card. It had a little gold envelope inside: A free spa day for all your hard work!
Lucien, touched, opened it. Inside was a legally binding contract.
Baelzithar appeared behind the counter. “Congratulations! You’ve won an all-expenses-paid eternity ruling the Ashborne Dominion.”
“I feel like you’re running out of ideas,” Lucien said as he threw the card directly into the milk steamer.
The Breaking Point
It went on for months. Every day, a new contract. A new trick. A new legal ambush. Baelzithar disguised one as a latte art tutorial. Lucien almost fell for it. Then came The Health Inspector Incident. A city inspector walked in one morning, eyed the demonic décor, and frowned.
“Sir, is this… an actual demonic café?”
Lucien froze. Baelzithar, sensing weakness, stepped forward.
“Technically, yes. In fact, the owner is legally—”
Lucien shoved a croissant into Baelzithar’s mouth.
“It’s a theme café!” Lucien said quickly. “It’s all satire!”
The inspector stared at the floating, flaming menu, the glowing runes on the tip jar, and the barista with literal fangs.
“…A very committed theme café,” Lucien added weakly.
The inspector narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to need to see your business license.” Lucien did not have one. Baelzithar smiled triumphantly.
“I can help with that,” he said, sliding a contract across the counter. Lucien panicked. His only option was to sign the health inspector up for a free pastry loyalty card, distracting him long enough to shove Baelzithar out the back door and slap a CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS sign on the window.
The Ceasefire
Later that night, Baelzithar returned, suit slightly disheveled, eyes glowing with frustration. “I will not give up,” he said. “You are the rightful heir.”
Lucien handed him a free biscotti. “Take a vacation.” Baelzithar muttered something deeply unholy before taking a bite. His shoulders relaxed. “…You’re still going to keep trying, aren’t you?” Lucien sighed.
Baelzithar, mouth full of possibly divine biscotti, simply nodded. Lucien rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if you’re going to show up every day, you’re going to start paying for coffee.”
Baelzithar paused, “…On one condition.”
Lucien groaned. “What?”
Baelzithar smirked. “I want a frequent customer discount.”
Lucien screamed into a bag of espresso beans.
Epilogue: The Eternal Customer
Baelzithar never stopped trying to trick Lucien into signing a contract. Lucien never stopped resisting. In the meantime, Baelzithar became a regular at The Devil’s Brew. He ordered the same espresso every morning, and he always paid full price, except for the one customer punch card he used exactly once. Just to annoy Lucien.
The Demon Realm hath no fury like a solicitor who won’t quit.