As you ask the table about their oaths, Dantalion is silent, and slowly turns his head away from you.
“Oh, don’t mind him,” Partwix interrupts. “He’s just embarrassed. I, on the other hand, have no such fear.”
Partwix stands, right hand held up in the air holding their rapier, left hand laid flat on a thick tome which has conjured itself from the dreamspace. The spine reads “COMPILED SOUTHERN CIRRHONIAN CIVIL LAW VOL. CCXXXVII.”
She declares, with a wide grin,
I, Partwix of Lendys, solemnly swear—
To ensure the dignity of the mortal soul.
To defend those who cannot themselves,
Equally with pen and blade.
And to consign those who disagree
To an eternity in the Hells.
As she finishes reciting her oath, both the rapier and the pages of the tome glow with a righteous brightness. She turns to you and says, eyes blazing with divine light,
“A contract is a powerful thing. Even the strongest devils abide by the letters of their own laws.”
They pause.
“There is great power to be had in binding yourself to an oath like this. The promises we make to ourselves are often stronger than the ones we make to others.”
“But… because of a contract like this, you may one day find yourself between the law of your oath and the people you mean to protect.”
The glow fades, and they give you a small smile.
“If you do go down this path, pick your words carefully, Aster.”