B4 – Chapter 31: Demonic Artisans

Tristan angled his glide down to the ground a half-mile out from the city’s walls and landed, skidding down the backside of a hill as he kept Eloise up and out of the dirt. As he came to a halt, he set her down. “Ready to talk to another Demon House?” he asked.

Eloise smiled and began to lead the way. “Hopefully I won’t be imprisoned this time.”

“I can break us out of anywhere!” Felicity said as she swished her tail back and forth, the tip tickling the back of Tristan’s neck. “Oh, I should probably turn invisible.” She vanished from all but Tristan’s sight.

Eloise glanced back at Tristan. “Still have that letter from the merchant we met?”

He pulled it from his hip pouch and gave it to her. “What’s our plan of approach here?”

“We go up, get in, spread word of the diseases going on, and then seek an audience with Philippe Tousles.”

Tristan felt confidence as he walked along the road behind Eloise. He had an odd sense of optimism about the whole situation. He couldn’t explain it, and for a brief moment he suspected some spell at work. He didn’t feel anything physically. He reached a hand up and scratched Felicity’s head right in between the antlers. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“Really? I feel a little creeped out by the giant city on a hill with a huge moat of purple water.”

Tristan looked down to his left. But to his eyes, the water was crystal clear save a hint of blue. “Uhm . . . did you eat something weird? It’s not purple.”

“Huh . . . wait a second.” Felicity dropped her invisibility. “Stop! Eloise, what color is the water?”

Eloise glanced down to the right. “Green. Covered in algae.”

“What’s that mean?” Tristan asked.

Felicity let out a snarling growl. “Illusion. A big one. Covering a huge area. That’s why you feel good. It’s gotta be a high Order spell to influence emotions. We’re talking Eleventh Order or higher!”

“How do we break it?” Tristan asked.

“Sustained contact,” Felicity replied. “Or, we can remove objects from the sphere of influence.” She took off from Tristan’s head, flew down to the water, scooped some up in paw-claws that shifted to little bucket-like shapes, and then flew back up. Her storage dimension opened, and as her paw-claws passed through the barrier between extradimensional space and real space, the liquid shifted and turned into a cool, crisp, deep blue; almost like it had been painted with pastel colors.

After seeing that, the feeling of calm and positivity faded. Tristan looked away from the storage dimension and saw the waters down at the base of the hill matching the deep blue, rolling green grass, the huge walls – but these walls were manned and armed with massive weapons of war. They were all pointed at Tristan and Eloise. He rapidly spun his crucible and activated Scales of Our Foe, Armor of Ice, Near Miss, and Lucky Instinct.

“Halt, traveler!” A female voice boomed from the walls. “State your name and purpose!”

Tristan shouted back in flawless Demon’s Tongue. “I am Marius Lestrange, Demonkin mercenary. This is Eloise Serre, advisor from the Citadel of Essence in the Mortal Realm. My imp, Felicity, as well.”

“Weirdest fucking imp I’ve ever seen.”

Felicity landed atop his head and shouted back. “I’m just the prettiest one you’ve never seen!”

“What news from the outside?” The woman shouted from on high.

Eloise replied. “Disease has spread and destroyed the Alphinaud House. We come bearing news, and a letter of introduction!” She waved the letter back and forth.

There was silence, then after a few minutes of tense standoff, a reply. “Approach the gates. Hands up.”

Tristan complied, Felicity did not instead keeping her paw-claws on his head, and Eloise followed along with the instructions. They were allowed to approach without issue, and the massive, wooden gate opened slightly as an armed group of demons came out to surround them. “Letter,” the lead one growled. Eloise held it out, and the figure snatched it before hurrying inside. A few minutes passed, and the demon returned. “Follow me.”

The city was a marvel of architectural achievement. Aside from the standard-appearing walls, every building within was unique and wholly customized, with facades and stylizations the likes of which Tristan had never seen before. He saw sloped roofs that were covered with tiles of cast obsidian, walls that were built at odd angles that cast shadows onto the ground that provided for covered porticos providing sheltered egress to the various buildings. Hundreds of workshops that were customized for all manner of trades, seemingly in a hodgepodge and completely disorganized setup. There were not neat intersections, but rather a winding central road that led through the whole city from gate to gate to central citadel with its inner walls. Other than alleys to allow for rapid access to other parts of the main road loop, the main road was the only path to take.

The whole environment made Tristan feel uncomfortable, as he did not like how disorderly it all seemed. Felicity on the other hand was thrilled. “This is what the Fey Realm should be like!” she said in Elvish excitedly.

“No fucking way,” Tristan whispered back in kind. He then swapped to Demon’s Tongue to speak to the man leading them. “Where is everyone?”

“Most are in their residences. When we saw foreigners on the horizon, alarms were sounded. We’ll give them the all-clear once you have had your audience with Lord Tousles.”

“What happened?” Eloise asked.

The Demon guard glanced back and sighed. “Just overt caution. We’ve not been on the best of terms with the Demon King. There’s fear of retaliation for not paying taxes.”

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Tristan had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, he knew how vital taxes were in a hierarchy like a kingdom. But on the other hand, Duberceix needed to have the least amount of resources possible, and lack of tax revenue would only help Tristan’s efforts. “Well, we aren’t part of Duberceix’s forces,” Tristan stated.

“That will be for his lordship to decide.”

The rest of the walk was quiet and when they were escorted to the inner citadel, they asked Tristan to surrender his gear. Instead, he spun his crucible, activated Pocket Dimension II, and put everything away. This caused some suspicious glances between the guards, and one of them insisted on binding Tristan’s hands as a precaution. He did not fight it, knowing that Felicity could free him in a pinch.

The central citadel of the Tousles family was absolutely covered in tapestries of all different levels of craftsmanship. A history of the entire Demon Realm in a splash of different colors and styles, all made with thread intricately woven to create a harmonious image.

Eloise nudged Tristan to continue following the guards instead of just taking in the artistry. He hustled to follow his escort, and they were led into a central chamber which was covered in all manner of arts and crafts stations. Each had their own sets of supplies that were immaculately maintained, save for what looked like an active project at an artists easel; a massive landscape oil painting. Immediately, the artist in Tristan began to critique the style and design.

The central throne, a very homey looking wooden seat raised on a platform, sat and watched them enter. A young male Demon by all appearances, easily eight feet tall with dark, purple eyes that glistened with barely hidden mirth. A shock of brown hair was tied back in a bun with a few messy strands eking their way free to dangle loosely along the side of the head.