– My queen, the merchants have arrived and wish to show off their wares and present you with a gift from King Kaldwind," Queen Varma was informed by her personal butler.

– Accepting gifts from defeated rulers is so tiresome! – Varma yawned, elegantly covering her beautiful mouth with a thin palm.

– You are right, Mistress. But this is a new king. The old one is dead, and his successor is certainly trying to please you," the butler said flatteringly.

– Of course, because no one wants a war with us. No one will ever have the courage and stupidity to threaten Flammehav! – The queen went to the window to look at the wagons of goods.

– If you wish, I will inform the merchants that you are not in the mood, Mistress.

– No need, let them show me what they've brought. And I wonder what the King of Men has decided to make me happy. – Varma looked around at the newcomers, sneered, and returned to the black leather couch.

– As you command. – The butler bowed and left the chambers.

Demoness, as it is supposed to royalty, was restrained and calm, only a slight grin gave away her true attitude to what was happening. From dresses and fabrics were already sagging shelves of her numerous closets, jewelry barely fit in the countless boxes. This demoness was eighty-seven years old, but she maintained her appearance with magic, making her look twenty-five years old. The queen was amused by the way the foreign merchants humiliated themselves in front of her, trying to find the right words and not to make unnecessary movements.

Varma thought that the atmosphere in the castle was very important. Cleanliness, cheerfulness and passion had to reign everywhere. There were even places in the palace where everyone, whether king or maid, could fulfill their secret desires. All you had to do was send an invitation to the person you wanted to spend time with. Scarlet wicker roses like flames caressed the columns of the palace with their petals and exuded a pleasant, intoxicating odor, so that visitors often stopped at the entrance to the palace and looked for the beautiful flowers, but found them only inside the palace next to the luxurious, openly dressed maids.

Demons had their own way of having fun: some lured strangers into their fatal embrace, some fed off their emotions, and some simply killed. Whoever once set foot in their lands wanted to return there, to Flammehav, where life was carefree but sharp. Varma had a great deal of merit in this. No one could have imagined that one day, in a beautiful jeweled chest, the queen of a great kingdom would find the head of her faithful servant. But it happened, which drove the demoness into a frenzy.

– Lamar! – The heavy door leading to the throne room banged against the wall with a rumble: an enraged queen stood at the entrance. In her right hand she was clutching the hair of the ambassador's head, which was sticky with dried blood, and a grimace of bewilderment on her face. – How can this be understood! How dare he? – Her beautiful white face contorted in anger, and she threw the ugly head at the king's feet.

– I see you already know that the new king of humans makes friends in such a strange way. – The demon king rose from his throne and picked up the servant's head and began to twirl it in his hands, as if it were not disgusting and creepy, but an ordinary cannonball.

– Strange? He's out of his mind! – Varma exclaimed: her husband seemed to have just added more wood to the fire raging within her, and the demoness could barely restrain herself from wanting to kill one of the servants.