Ducard was careful to scribble his false signature badly, making it look like a commoner's chicken-scratch rather than the smooth, elegant penship of a well-educated man. An analyst could probably recognize the skill underneath, but it would do for the time being. Contented, he took the top copy of the agreement for himself, shoving it into a pocket unceremoniously, while he grabbed the other half and offered it to Valentine, crumpled in his grasp. Only, on Valentine's shoulders was one piece he was somewhat surprised to see.<br/><br/>It was Lilith, the little blonde Empress herself. For the first time, Ducard was slightly concerned. He didn't know much about the origins of the demonic little girl, in the same way that none of his fellow Oligarchs knew much about his history. The precise limits of her abilities weren't known to the demonologist, and that made her a danger to his charade. However, like fish in a deep lake, these scurrying thoughts did not show on the surface, and 'Clydus' simply continued past the bodyguard, clumping out the door unceremoniously. "Well c'mon," he growled, "we haven't got all day." However, the next ugly question reared its head; how was Ducard going to kill a dragon without revealing his identity?