B4 – Chapter 4: To build a reputation

Tristan traveled for the next several days, receiving sporadic updates from Eloise about what information she was able to gather as he kept trudging onward during the day while Felicity kept watch at night.

Eloise had been able to get word back to the Citadel of Essence, and through her contacts at the essence-weaving school, was able to get word to other Realm Protectors. Investigations were underway, and whilst the Demon King would be able to keep his activities hidden, pressure was on. “Think of it this way,” she said as she elaborated further. “The realms are like different kingdoms bordering each other. But the borders are all shared – Incursions could happen at any time, and so alliances and treaties are very important. This is like being told that your subjects are being murdered by a foreign ruler; it’s a very bad look diplomatically.”

Tristan nodded as he walked along the now-less hilly landscape that had become flatter, pushing essence into the ear cuff to keep listening to the advisor. “It gives us more cover for our activities. He’ll be preoccupied in the capital with diplomatic maneuvering.”

“Precisely,” Eloise replied. “I don’t know how long the pressure will keep up – we need to move. I’m going to leave the capital and head to Parslile territory to the east, and speak to Clova. Leveraging my Citadel connection should get me an audience with the essence weavers, and I’ll probe to see how receptive they are. I’ll try to contact you mid-morning as we have been, each day.”

“What do you want me to do if I don’t hear from you?”

“Head back to the Citadel, and let Headmaster Markus know that I have gone missing. He can send a divination specialist to find me.”

Tristan nodded, noting the large wall growing steadily on the horizon. “Okay. Keep in touch. And good luck.”

“When you’re done building your reputation with and trying to ally the Dalphatroux, I would advise going to the Alphinaud territory to the south. The Mericlau in the north are fervent adherents of the Demon King. I doubt we will be able to get them to rally to our cause. It’s not worth the time for what will be a fruitless endeavor.”

“Good to know.” Tristan let the spell lapse as his crucible stilled and the essence drew back into his chest before the sensation of the magical power pouring through his body faded. He took a deep breath and mentally rehearsed his story as he approached the city on the horizon.

The gates were open wide, and Tristan saw several Demonkin who were dressed in clothing that came from other Realms along the streets of the city. There were guards present; but to his slight surprise the walls were manned not just by Demonkin, but heritages from other Realms. I guess that makes sense, he thought, since the Dalphatroux house has backers from other Realms. Military pacts make sense. He poked Felicity atop his head, rousing her from her sleep. “Hey. Wriggle into my armor,” he whispered in Elvish.

She yawned and shrank down, squirming her way into the small crux between his chest plate and torso – in the crumple zone designed for giving Tristan a chance to escape from a dragon’s grasp or teeth. “We’re already here?” she mumbled out.

“Yes.” He walked down the main road. The buildings were uniform just like how they were in the capital, but the streets were more rustic and less refined – cobblestone instead of paved stones, gutters that were little more than dirt trenches, buildings made from various material instead of meeting a constraint of uniformity. He spun his essence crucible, feeling the empowering, cooling substance flow through his body, and pushed it into his hand. “Look upon my countenance and find yourself enamored with my charm.” He took his right hand, put his index and middle finger out and split apart, other fingers curled in, palm outward, and put the fingers around his eye.

“Excuse me,” he asked in Demon’s Tongue, addressing one of the half-breed guards. Their armor was a deep burgundy, and the emblem on the tabard they wore looked to match with the same symbol for the Demon House that Tristan had memorized in the dossier; a key laid across a field of blue, and a center emblem of a circular portal with ragged edges. “What’s the name of the city?” He lowered his hand.

The guard glanced Tristan up and down. A half-breed female Demihuman who took after some type of goat or deer, judging by the large antlers protruding from their head. “Place is called Lockwood.”

“Where could someone go if they were a mercenary looking for work?” Tristan asked.

The guard rubbed her chin, “You could try the main guard house near the front gate. Two streets over and nestled up against the wall. Could also try the main keep if you’ve got something special to offer.” They stared hard at Tristan, who put on his most disarming smile possible. “I’d say given your armor you’re probably a cut above the basic mercenary. I’d check at the main keep.”

“Thanks,” Tristan said as he dipped his head and kept walking down the main boulevard to the large, central castle nestled in the middle of the city.

Felicity mumbled, “I want to fly out and do some pranks…but I’m tired.” She yawned and pushed her head into the crook of Tristan’s neck. “Wake me up when something interesting happens.”

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Tristan chuckled and kept walking. He was not accosted or even looked at with an odd expression. He saw several people who were not natives to the Demon Realm, and down one street near the castle proper, he could make out a marketplace of some type where multiple voices speaking in different languages echoed out. Their own inter-realm market, Tristan thought. I’ve seen so many realmwalking spells now…but only in other realms or the Citadel proper. I wonder why the Kingdom of Bhant and the Sapphire Coast didn’t utilize connections to other Realms as much? It seems like it would be the smartest way to keep new goods coming in.

He reached a lowered bridge that extended over a moat – a deep pit full of spikes. A contingent of well-dressed and armored Demonkin guards stood at the ready, and one turned and lowered their halberd into a low-ready position. “What’s your business?”

Tristan stopped and took up a relaxed stance, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I’m looking for work.” He hiked a thumb at himself, “Essence-weaver and warrior.”