B4 – Chapter 6: An audience

Tristan headed back to the main road and beelined for the older Demonkin Jerri’s house. He knocked loudly on the door, and after waiting for a minute, she opened the door. “Hmm? What is it?” she asked.

Tristan spun his crucible and poured the essence into the amulet for the Pocket Dimension II spell. Pulling out the clear box, he held it up. “Diseased creatures. It’s a potent one. I burned the corpses. I think I killed them all…but that was just one group of the creatures.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she scowled, “Never seen a disease like that before.”

“I can use rejuvenation spells,” Tristan stated as he put the box back into his storage dimension. “If you can get everyone up, I can cleanse them all and make sure that they are free of the sickness.”

The woman’s eyes brightened but her face remained in its scowl. “You’re more than you appear, aren’t you? You have that fancy armor, sword, and a spell type that our Heritage cannot use? That means you have a bloodline, yes? Which means…you’re probably a descendant of a Demon House.”

I don’t want to say I’m part of a noble house when I’m not actually, Tristan thought. Hmm…I could just go with a half-truth. He smiled ever-so-slightly, “I lost my noble house,” he replied, which was not a lie, since grandfather Hurvun put an end to the Anorox family’s nobility.

The woman’s face softened a bit and she sighed, “Ah, so one of the cadet houses. Fair enough, keeping your affiliation secret. I’ll go that way,” she pointed up the road, “and get everyone up. You go the other way, and we’ll bring them all back here.” She vanished into the building interior and came back wearing a well-worn pair of boots. “Let’s get everyone healed up!”

The process of using Cleanse took the entire night, as the spell was quite taxing on Tristan’s essence crucible. He had to take frequent breaks, and while he did, the farmhands who were still waiting to be cleansed were sent to do a patrol of the exterior of the entire farmland. Felicity also flew further, a mile past the fences marking the edges of the properties, and determined that there were no more of the creatures carrying the affliction.

The fingers of night descended, and Tristan was thoroughly exhausted by the time the sun rose in the distance. Felicity made sure to re-use the Alter Form spell to keep his Demonkin alias supported. When the last of the farmers had been cleansed, Tristan was offered a room to sleep in, which he took advantage of. Felicity also snoozed with him – still silent and invisible to all non-Elves.

He woke around midday and after having Felicity re-cast Alter Self, he met once more with Jerri and a few of the older farmhands. “Ah, the Demonkin who saved us is awake,” Jerri said with a soft, grandmotherly smile.

Tristan sat in an empty chair at the modest table and snagged one of the aplicarn fruits from a bowl in the center of the table. After taking a few bites he pulled the furled up scroll from his hip pouch and tossed it on the table. “I’ll need someone to sign off that I solved your problem.”

The farmers looked at each other and one of them, an older male, stood up and his voice rumbled with a gravely sound of one who smoked a pipe frequently. “You sure all the things are dead?”

“Unless there’s a divination spell user in town, no,” Tristan replied. “I need to head back to Lockwood and report this. A disease that is this contagious and takes so long to show symptoms…it could spread rapidly. Someone with more pull needs to be notified.”

Jerri grabbed the scroll and stood up, moving deftly with an ease that belied her advanced age, and took it to a small writing desk. She scribbled with a charcoal pencil before coming back to Tristan and handing the document to him. “Then speed along your way. If you leave now, you can probably make it back by nightfall.”

Tristan stood up and spun his crucible, pushing the essence into his storage spell and removing five of the panacea elixirs. “I can give you these. They should cure any disease or poison. An emergency measure if necessary.”

The farmhands each looked at one another and as they began rummaging into their pockets, Jerri held up a hand for them to stop. “Marius,” she said, addressed Tristan by his alias. “We cannot pay for the-”

Tristan shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, “They are free. Just for emergencies.”

The woman glared at him, her eyes seeming to try and pierce the façade Tristan had put up with his alias. She spoke softly, but that hard look remained in her gaze. “A mercenary who doesn’t seek coin?”

“I’m just in this for the reputation,” Tristan replied trying to play off the encounter as cooly as possible. “If you know anyone in Lockwood who has connections with the Dalphatroux, I’d be more than happy to have you write a letter recommending me to them.”

“Ah…a play for nobility,” Jerri replied with a smug grin. “So you do have a motive that will lead to profit of some type. I don’t have any contacts within that family, but I wish you the best with your adoption into their number! Maybe into a cadet branch.”

Tristan turned for the door and opened it, stepping outside. Glancing back, he gave a terse nod an then shut the door. Making his way down the road, Felicity bopped him on the head and spoke in the Standard Tongue, “Well? What happened?”

Tristan filled her in on the whole conversation, and Felicity made her little paw-claw biscuits. When he had finished, she was silent for a few moments. Then, when she spoke, it was with a sense of relief. “Good thing we kept the cover, and deepened the backstory a bit. It’ll make for a more convincing alias.”

“It should,” he replied as he set to both-direction spinning his essence crucible. A means of constant, slight improvement that helped occupy the otherwise boring travel.

Reaching Lockwood by nightfall, Tristan made his way back to the inner keep and obtained an audience with Head Guard Frederick Pont, who was in the barracks within the walls, eating at a table. “Ah, the mercenary. Remind me of your name.”

“Marius Lestrange,” Tristan replied as he stood at the end of the table. An officer’s table, judging by the similarly dressed and outfitted, three other Demonkin who sat with Frederick. Tristan pulled the paper out of his hip pouch and handed it to the man, “I dealt with the creatures – but there’s more.” He shifted his gaze to the other Head Guards who were still eating their meals. “But it’s a bit gross, and I don’t want to spoil your appetite.”

“A mercenary with manners!” Frederick stood up and gestured for Tristan to follow him, “Come, we’ll go into the office.” Tristan followed the man and left the door open behind him as the Head Guard turned around, sitting on the desk. “What did you find?”

Tristan spun his crucible and removed the glass container holding the decapitated head of the diseased cat creature. “There’s a disease on the spread.” He set the glass box down as Frederick grimaced. Tristan then pulled out the slip of paper with information about the disease he had acquired, handing it to the man. “Something called The Feather Scourge.”

At that, Frederick’s eyes went wide. He moved past Tristan and shut the door. “How’d you figure that out?” he whispered harshly.

“Uh oh,” Felicity said in Standard Tongue from atop Tristan’s head. “Seems like he knew about it and it was being kept all quiet.”

Tristan kept speaking in Demon’s Tongue, replying to the Head Guard, “A spell I have access to,” he said using a half-truth to leave the man guessing as to whether it was a spell he had cast, or one of his items of artifice. “Sounds like you knew about this.”

“It started a few weeks ago,” the man replied in hushed tones as he grimaced. “The Dalphatroux House has been keeping a lid on the issue. If everyone knew about the disease, it could cause panic.”

I can play this to my advantage, Tristan thought. They need a means to cure diseases, and I can make elixirs. Plus, this Demon House already has ties to other Realms…this is my way in. Tristan removed one of the panacea elixirs from his still-open storage dimension. “I have the means to acquire a lot of panacea elixirs. Seems like the perfect remedy for the situation.”

Frederick’s facial expression shifted to curiosity, “Huh…connection with your prior cadet branch?”

Tristan spun the vial in between his fingers, even with the armored gauntlets his dexterity was on full display. “I want an audience with Debera Delphatroux.”

The Demonkin frowned, “I don’t think I can make that happen.”

I could go with the blackmail route, Tristan thought. Threaten to spread word of the disease. But that would leave some soured impressions – and I want this Demon House to support me when it comes to dealing with Duberceix. They already have connections with other Realms…so I should play this straight. Tristan nodded, “Then tell me who can make it happen. My…vendor, so to speak, is always open to working with new customers directly.”

Frederick let out a slight sigh of relief, “I can do that at least. Come on, let’s go talk to the House Guard.”

Tristan was led out of the barracks within the walls of the inner keep and Frederick guided him to a side entrance of the main castle. A large building that was akin to a tiered cake – rounded sections placed atop each other until it ended in a large tower that extended high above, with a flag representing the Demon House’s emblem hoisted high and fluttering in the evening sky that had darkened to a deep, cherry red.

Frederick spoke briefly with one of the very well-dressed and armored, full Demon guards. And as the two spoke, Tristan tried to memorize the differences between them. The full-fledged Demon was taller by a few heads, stockier, and also far more handsome than Frederick. The horns that curled gracefully from the top of the head were also far more prominent than that of the Demonkin who had shorter, stubbier horns.

Felicity seemed to note the differences as she commented to Tristan, “Demons are just prettier and more attractive versions of Demonkin. I figured there would be more differences, given one is a species, and the other is a Heritage.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Frederick spoke up, “Marius, this is House Guard Trenton. He’ll take you to see Lord Dalphatroiux. “You will need to divest yourself of your gear; I can hold onto it for you.” He frowned as he looked at Tristan, “Sadly, all of the gear is going to need to go – I don’t know the extent of your artificed items.”

“Understood,” Tristan replied. He hiked a thumb to the wall, “Back to the guard barracks?” Frederick nodded and led the way, and Tristan whispered to Felicity in Elvish. “You’re going to wait in the room, and once I’ve left, get my gear out of wherever they put it, and then come back to me.”