The lesson on demons was much longer than the one on the dead. They came in many different sizes and kinds, and each had their own powers. Frank had asked, and with Grut’s permission, written down what the Reclaimer’s had gathered and learned about the demons here. Some from experience, most from records of previous expeditions.

Grut did warn him not to spread it around, as it was knowledge that could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Though he didn’t specify how or why. Deli had tuned out not long into the talk, perking up only when “how to best kill them” parts came up.

Frank was more interested in what they’d learned about their behaviours. The Empire didn’t teach lessons on Demons, not to regular Heroes like him. Classes for things on Demons and Angels were no different than trying to find knowledge about magic: restricted to those initiated into the orders that had strict Oaths binding them.

From what he’d understood, the Confederation didn’t like spreading it either, without need. But as people stuck in Blighttown, they counted.

***

Demons didn’t breed. They called up more of their kind from the Hells. Each was a soul cursed to a Hells, cursed in form as well as mind. They had powers and magic, but were sharply limited in many ways by seemingly random rules.

A few of the rules were consistent. No demon could rest in the same place for more than a week, without being pulled back to their hell, back to the place it was born in. The valley around Blighttown was big enough for them to roam, and return to the city every month.

They didn’t need food, but craved it, and demons were known to grow off of mana, if they could subdue someone. While they could hurt people and fight them, a demon couldn’t kill a person on purpose without being sent back to hell.

Some still did it, while others avoided people. The trouble with this was that the rule was literal. A Demon couldn’t kill people. But its traps, lured monsters, dead it opened the way for, were all ways to avoid the rule.

Most demons in the world fought to disable and subdue when faced directly. Then, they would try to break or trick someone in an attempt to make them accept the demon into their heart and soul, binding them to the world. Once so bound, the demon will always return to the Binder upon death, instead of going back to their Hell. Which made it an easy way for said Demon to sidestep most of the rules, as they tended to pick Binders weaker than them.

Get sent back to hell for murder? Just get killed in Hell and pop back up above. The binding when so forced was a Curse, difficult to remove without help or a Priest and penance.

So in nature, of how they behaved, Demons could be split into those that were Bound and Unbound. The Unbound hid, made traps, used tricks, avoided risk. The Bound hunted people and monsters, as most had ways to grow in power that involved feeding on Health and Mana, and cared nothing for death anymore. The vast majority of all Demons in the world were Unbound.

The second way to distinguish them were between Lesser Demons, True Demons, and Greater Demons.

Lesser Demons were, Frank was told, like smart animals. Their minds cursed to the point they could still understand speech, but not use it. They were scavengers and vultures by nature, no match for a well prepared warrior alone, or in small numbers. And Demons almost never ventured anywhere in large numbers. They fought each other as much as they fought monsters and humans.

“Well, kindred, but it’s not like Elves or Dwarves were around.”

Point being, Lesser Demons were almost like horses, primates, or dolphins back home, in terms of intelligence.

Some were kept Bound by bigger Towns, those with a designated Hellspeaker, a person of great trust and integrity. They would train them as messengers and expendable scouts, for which Demons gifted with wings, or good at sneaking and fast afoot were preferred. High Agility, basically. Others preferred Demons good at hunting and standing guard, used as bodyguards, or monster hunting hounds.

They never kept more than two or three, and only those that took to the training.

Grut had assured him that, much like with a Warlock, the command of a Hellspeaker was writ in the Heavens for their Demon. They could obey, or be sent back to Hell. Thus, the careful wording of such orders was important, as Demons were known to wiggle around them, putting up the pretence of being tame, while looking for an opportunity to take some poor firekeeper as a Binder.

True Demons still lived in cursed forms, but were otherwise little different than kindred. They could not breed among themselves, but could gift and birth children of kindred, though any such child will be Cursed with the blood of a Demonspawn. Such will make them attractive targets for Demons, for Demonspawn can serve as Binders for multiple Demons, allowing alliances and the forming of Demon parties.

With speech came another rule, True Demons had to honour their word when given to one of the kindred, or would be punished for breaking it. The forms that took varied, but usually left the Demon weaker.

Only Warlocks dared keep a True Demon, and then, only a Warlock in good standing was allowed one in the Confederation. It was called their familiar, and they were responsible for its actions. The Skills and differences in them that made one Hellspeaker, or Warlock were not mentioned.

If Frank’s read of the firekeeper was right, asking about them would put him on some kind of list of people to watch. So while curious, he didn’t.

A playful push on his shoulder brought Frank out of his notes. Deli was by his side, pouting at him. “Come on Frank, we’ve spent enough time on those. Let’s go out, see the town, meet new people.”

That did sound good. Their Health was still low, but not critical. Frank got up and loosened the shutters to check the weather. A burst of freezing wind blew in through the crack, along with the howl of the winds outside.

Sometime during their talk, the sky had turned. It took Frank a few moments to wrestle the window shut. The ensuing silence was a relief, but surprising. It would take a quality glass window to provide similar sound dampening back home.

“I guess they aren’t so thick for nothing.” He’d always wondered why so many windows in the Confederation looked more like hatches.

He turned back to Deli to find her disappointed. He didn’t have to say anything. They were not going out in that. Not for a walk. Not today.

Deli pursed her lips, but smiled after some thought.

***

The building they were in had once been part of the barracks by the wall. It had a large lunch and common room. This time of day, with what the weather was like out, it was half-full of pilgrims and caravan members. Some among them were crafters with cleared space around them, practicing their craft. There was a table in the side corner with one matron, two firekeepers and three kids, two girls and a boy, knitting, stitching and sewing, or learning how to.

In the middle of the room, instead of a hearth fire, there was a large anvil, with a smith and her apprentice working the bellows. Frank had started hearing their dull hammering back from the hall of their room.

He grimaced at the noise and smoke, but no one else seemed to care. No one but Deli, who started coughing. Well, her, and some of the kids. The others weren’t bothered. Frank himself found the air to have a bit of a zing to it. An itch to his lungs, a mild annoyance for his ears to ignore the hammering, but that was it. The smoke wasn’t so thick he couldn’t breathe, and everyone else was fine. While he paused to consider, she didn’t.

Deli’s eyes watered, but she still walked on, stubbornly taking a table near the centre. Wordlessly, Frank followed and pulled her out of it, with less protest than he was expecting. They took seats closer to the walls, where the sound wasn’t quite as bad, and the air somewhat clearer.

Frank watched everyone. Some of the kids in the room were struggling as well, but no one did anything about it. Then again, as far as he could tell, no one was keeping them here. There were rooms with clean air upstairs.

On Earth, it would be a massive health hazard. Reckless endangerment of children. Smoke inhalation could be fatal. Here, it was just another daily trial, meant to toughen everyone up, help the kids progress their Body, if he wasn’t mistaken.

His own Body training hadn’t been as kind, or as merciful. They could at least take breaks. But it was best to be sure.

“Deli,” he asked, careful to keep his voice low, “this is a trial for the Body, yes? The smoke, it will not kill?”

None of the kids he could see were younger than twelve, but that was still child abuse in his book.

Wiping away tears, with red eyes, she replied: “Yes. One of many. *cough* I long for the day when I can ignore the smoke like I should.” She coughed again.

“Does it drain Health?”

She looked away. “If one is particularly frail.” Shame. That was shame. She coughed again. He started rising but she pinned him in place with a look. “I am watchful. *cough* If my Health falls a single point, we shall *cough* depart, but not before it.”

He felt the defiance in her voice, but also another strange sensation. Frank blinked at her. One familiar to him, as a Commander, a leader of soldiers. She’d called him party leader back then, hadn’t she?

“Deli. If I disagreed, what then?”

She met his eyes. “That is your right, and I would obey.”

His head fell into his hands. “Deli. What did you do?”

She looked around. “That is best kept to ourselves, I think.”

Right. Looking around Frank saw multiple people look away. Not the same pretend innocence or challenge of the Empire, but guilty glances and fidgeting.

“Gossip.” He sighed. “Of all the wonders of company, this is the one I did not miss.”

He snapped his fingers. “Ok then. You are sitting right there, and you will tell me if your Health drops a single point, understood?”

She firmly nodded, looking at him with slightly wide eyes. He’d fallen into his Leadership cadence of speaking. Frank knew he sounded different when he did that. His voice would deepen and ring, carrying. She had no idea how different it would be once he got his Presence back up to six. But that was still weeks, if not months away.

“I am getting you something to drink to ease the burn in your throat.” She went to speak but he cut her off: “Endurance, Deli, not Perseverance. For all so many of his Cults preach it, suffering doesn’t come into it. So you will take your milk and savour it.”

Deli grimaced, clearly not agreeing, but dipped her head in respect, acknowledging the order wordlessly.

He left to pick up a drink. The dining hall was full of merchants and their families. Someone here had to have milk, and he could see new faces among the crowd.

“Reclaimers, probably. Time to mingle.”

He put on a smile and approached the table with a man who sold food for reasonable prices. He’d have time for his notes later. It would take them over a week to recover their Health. He had time to make some friends.

Besides, now that he’d given up the Pilgrim skill, and the Pilgrimage was practically over, he wanted to get some damn furs for himself. Frank was sick and tired of freezing his balls off in the damn cold.

***

It took them four days to get a house of their own. In that time Deli continued pushing herself, while Frank carved and mingled. They got a visit from an actual officer of the Reclaimers that asked about their Skills and Ability. The standard questions for a fighter: Agility, Body, Reaction, Strength, Health, recovery rate, preferred role, mana for Frank, and fighting Skill.

He wanted to slot them into two parties already on the duty roster, but Deli insisted on sticking together. It made their Bargaining position worse, in terms of pay, but Frank managed to argue his way up in price. It did mean taking some less favoured duty shifts, like the dawn night watch.

With his stones, sitting out in the cold wasn’t a problem, and with Agility four, Deli was but a shout away. Before their first shift, they’d taken the time to rig a small patch on the roof next to the window as a guard post, so they could sit and talk. Well, Frank could sit outside, and Deli in. With her Body, even with a runestone, she’d lose Health just sitting in the cold.

He had managed to wrangle a set of light furs for himself, so he was finally rid of those robes. Frank was… suspicious about the furs, to start with. How well they would keep warm. While not trained in the use of Light Armor himself, he couldn’t afford the Medium, yet. He remembered feeling the same doubt back at the Academy, about how protective Light Armor was. Or wasn’t, more likely.

In this world, (and that still annoyed him, no one spoke of the world as a whole, it was always a regions, a nation, or the Human Realm. That was no way to start a classification.), Light Armor didn’t cover much. A full breastplate with an armoured skirt, and eight other pieces, two for each limb, leaving the joints open. Calf, thigh, forearm, backarm, and a cap or helmet. It reminded him of images of ancient Greek soldiers, except it came in steel, leather and fur.

And some odd wood, but that was expensive.

His problem with the fur was that it didn’t at all look warm. His groin and armpits should be bleeding heat like crazy. But they weren’t. It was about layers. He had a tight shirt, and then a loose one on for his top, and they had reinforced armpits, just for this. The pants were warm too. Not “stop this kind of cold on their own” warm, but with the skirt and the furs added… well he sure as hell wasn’t comfortable. But while the furs covered less than the robe, they were much warmer.

It made for an odd dichotomy where parts of him were hot, and parts cold, and it all kind off leveled out. Once he got used to it. Which took a while. He kept fidgeting and adjusting his armor, until Deli convinced him to stop doing that. It leveled off after he stopped messing with it.

She had proper furs, the medium variant, and had offered to trade him, but he wasn’t doing that. He had a feeling that she’d take it as a permanent trade, not just him borrowing them for the watch shift.

They’d argued, somewhere, in the days since, but not really. She was holding back, he could tell. Always there was someone around, and she did not wish to spread rumours.

She really didn’t understand people, in that.

It had, of course, only made the rumours wilder. That they were lovers, that she was pregnant, that he wouldn’t take her before others because his tastes were peculiar.

He knew better than to fight those. The more they denied it, the worse it would get. No, what surprised and worried him was that Deli didn’t deny them either. They had a house now. One at the very edge of the barricades, as part of the higher pay negotiations. Already, tonight, they’d been woken a few times by the guards beating back a Bone, or Snow Shades.

Frank had been putting Shades down all night. Thing was, it wasn’t hard. He was up on a sloped roof. He could see them coming, long before they got close and his staff had reach. With their limits, only one could get near him at any time.

It was annoying, like fighting mosquitoes in the summer, but not actually dangerous. Not up here.

His Reaction three and low Health had given him a spot as a roof watchmen. As well as his short ranged options with fire. If the barricade below needed help, he’d just walk over to the edge and call down fire on the attack. Their house wall was part of the walls around the living section. He figured that on nights the wind was calm, he’d probably be able to chat with the guards below.

For now, his main job was to make sure no Snow Shade fell on their head from his roof, or without warning from the other. Other than that, he kept watch for climbing Bones. That was it.

He spotted one that night, sneaking around the lip of another watchman’s position and called it out. They broke it shortly after.

Bones were odd, from a distance. Up close, he’d probably be horrified, though that horror was tempered by knowledge.

Thing was, they burned their dead here. Bones made their skeletal forms from animal and monster bones. That was one of the difference between a Bones and a Skeleton. Human remains.

It was why Bones were so dangerous. Not much threat on their own, but if the Sticks, Shades, and Bones brought down a party, there’d be ten, twenty new Skeletons scattering into the winds. Depending on the might of the slain, one body could yield two to six new horrors. It was why the Bones kept coming, as unlike the Shades they could be killed, broken and burned permanently. If they managed to snatch someone, they’d become a Skeleton, and so would their friends.

They hunted in packs, not parties, but the difference was they had no real leader. Small packs, enough for most to rise, if they killed someone. So between two and six per pack. Though six was really on the large side. Mostly it was two or three.

That was still viscerally horrifying, watching what looked like a human skeleton climb a house. The dead weren’t supposed to move. Frank felt cold out on watch, and it wasn’t just the wind and snow. It was easy to get used to, to ignore the Snow Shades. They were only lumpy mounds of snow, almost like living snow piles trying and failing to ape the human form.

And a Sticks was a tree come alive, or possessed, but still not really a horror. The Bones were. While he could push through it, it wasn’t pleasant. Deli had given up on trying to cheer him up hours ago. Now she just kept him company, and sang now and then. It helped. But he had a feeling she could feel the coming talk as well as he could, and was going over arguments in her head.

Frank was too, even as they stayed watchful for threats.

***

After their early morning watch, a short break to warm up, him do his carving, and her pick up some fresh supplies, Frank and Deli sat around the breakfast table, in a slowly deepening silence. He was running out of new stone banks again, and unsure where and how to get more, but it was time.

Time to talk.

Frank just wasn’t sure how to start. No, it was just an awkward one.

“Sorry.” He apologised.

Deli blinked, taken back for a moment, before giving him a shrewd look: “For…”

“For the line from that Epic, and spreading it. It made the rumours worse, not that your insistence we share a home helped with that.” He reminded her as well. Frank understood the basic logic, no one slept alone, and they were a party, parties stuck together.

But though he had slept in the same camp, and even in the same sleeping bag, there was something about sharing a house all to themselves with a young woman that made it seem more intimate. He’d gotten used to army conditions while in the mercenary company, and the Academy did not separate changing rooms by gender either, but this felt a bit different than just a cultural thing.

Deli blushed a bit, but stood her ground. “We are a party. I will not allow us to be split. Why you entertained any such through escapes me. Do you doubt my resolve?” She questioned, like the point of a dagger.

“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t doubt it.”

“After all, you nearly got yourself killed over another point. Only a fool would doubt you.” Of course, Frank knew better than to say that to her.

“What then?” She asked, some of the cutting edge fading from her words.

“I am… unsure of this.” When he saw the affront rising on her face, he hurried to add: “Not of you! But of what it means here. Parties, leaders and such. I’m aware of the Empire’s version, but…”

Deli grimaced, and addressed his point: “If that is all, you need but ask.”

How was he supposed to explain scientific rigor and biases to her? You never ask the subject of a study about its results. You don’t ask your own party member how parties are supposed to work.

He thought about it for a minute, trying to get some distance, clarity.

“Am I… is this?”

He was coming about this all wrong. Still thinking of her as his teacher and guide to a culture, not as a friend and party member. It was the difference between studying a culture, and experiencing it.

“Sorry, again. I think one of my Skills might be affecting my perspective a bit. Give me a moment.”

Frank closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, slowly letting out. One by one, he let them go, his assumptions, impression. Or did the best he could to centre himself, to try and see her with fresh eyes. Put aside everything that came before this and she Deli as she was, and not as he thought of her.

He opened his eyes, studying her frankly. She raised an eyebrow in question, but otherwise let him, even scooting out her chair so he could see all of her.

Deli was a young woman. She looked no older than nineteen, but she was twenty. She had short blond hair, barely falling to her shoulders, and it was slick, messy. If he was back home, he’d hand her a comb or a brush. His standards had adjusted, since. No one here was as clean as Earth people were.

Her eyes were wide-set, not inviting, but open, accepting. She was at peace, maybe just a bit happy for him to finally, properly, see her. Her skin was pale, Scandinavian, and somewhat blemished with a few darker patches that might have been burns, once. An oval face, with a short, hooked nose, over full, rosy lips, and low, but sharp cheeks. She wasn’t gaunt, but lean and tall, matching his 186cm with ease.

Inside, with the fire going, she was wearing a shirt common to everyone here, the female version with built in support. As far as he’d seen on the market among the clothes, from window shopping (or would it be cart shopping here?), bras were not a thing here.

Her chest was neither prominent nor small, about average and tightly packed by the shirt. The extra material that provided support also served to give more coverage and decency, so her breasts weren’t outlined like they could be in some skin tight outfits. She wore the same two layer shirt he did, one tight, one loose, creating a layer of air between them that would help keep her warm under her furs outside. Both in pure white, though not so clean anymore.

Washing clothes was a thing here, but the frequency of it was nothing nearly like Before.

Her outer shirt was partially open, the bottom and top few buttons loosened in the warmth of their house, showing of the tight shirt beneath sticking to her neck and belly.

Frank could feel himself start to react a bit.

She was lounging in her chair, one hand on the table tapping out a soft rhythm, waiting on him to finish, watching him watch her with a slight open smile. The whole thing felt just a bit intense. The other was thrown back, elbow leaned on top the chair backrest. The shirt, like his, had strings to close the loose sleeves at the elbow and wrist, creating air pockets. Both of hers were untied, the sleeves bunched up carelessly.

Her knees were spread, dancing slightly to the beat she was putting out, feet touching on the floor. Legs in a pair of thick bark brown cloth pants much like his own. She wasn’t wearing her boots, instead having on a pair of fur slippers with thick wooden soles he had never seen her in.

His eyes slid back up her body, bit by bit, going over the open knees, her chest again, and up to her eyes. Her smile widened a bit, but he still wasn’t sure. Pointedly, Frank dropped his eyes to her breasts. The hand of the arm she was leaning back on was hanging by them. It moved over and opened the other buttons in the loose shirt. It fell open, showing off the tight one. More, Deli rose from her slouch a bit, thrusting out her chest.

Frank watched, and couldn’t deny he was interested, attracted. They were alone, off duty, and the walls were thick. No one was supposed to disturb them, for a while. He watched the lines of her breasts, drank them in, then raised his eyes back up to hers to ask her the question.

Her knees were open. Chest thrust out. She was smiling, and meeting his eyes. Deli was available, and making herself so openly. She was open, she was willing, happy even.

Slowly, the joy and smile was replaced by confusion, as he said nothing.

Deli was open, wide open. Willing. What she wasn’t, was interested.

Frank picked his words carefully. “Deli, if I asked you to strip and wanted to have wild, hot sex on this very table, what would you say to that?”

She stood up and shrugged off her outer shirt. “I’d say I’d like that.” Deli replied, unbuckling her pants as well.

Something about the way she said that… “Would you?” he asked, careful to keep his voice light. He did not want to accuse her of lying.

The pants slipped to the floor, and she stepped out, folding them on the chair. Underneath, she wore a pair of tight pants that were coming off as well. Clad in nothing but her undershirt, and a pair of exercise shorts-like panties, Deli came on and sat astride him. Her breath hot on his face, her body a living furnace, begging him to touch her.

“I think I’d enjoy it.” She told him with a smile, showing off how ready she was by rolling her hips against his. “You’re not the kind of man to leave a woman unsatisfied, Frank. Are you?” She teased, her hands going down to his belt, as she leaned in to kiss him.

His hand found her chin and stopped her just short. Her eyes were wide open, hiding nothing, their noses almost touching. Hers were a deep evergreen, and very willing. If not for his many nights spent with prostitutes in the Empire, and the long relationship in college, he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Deli was open, she was very willing, and even somewhat looking forward to it. But she wasn’t interested. In him, in person, or just as a man to have an intense, hot fuck with. Which really raised an important question. Critical even.

“Deli, are you doing this because you want to, or because I want you to?” Even as she ground against him again and he felt himself respond, he added: “Only the truth now, it’s important to me.”

Because no matter how much his dick might want something, Frank ruled it, it didn’t rule him. He’d seen too many men be led around by their balls to let it happen to him.

She bit her lip, letting go of his pants, and putting her arms around his neck. After a few intensely hot moments, because she was still a nearly naked woman in his lap, she looked away, before meeting his eyes again.

“I want it because you do.” And that. That. Was it a problem? Would it be strange for a woman to respond to someone wanting her? Develop feelings?

“Could you” he said, sounding a bit ridiculous to himself, and resting his hands low on her back, “perhaps elaborate on that? I don’t want to walk into anything blindly here.” He was babbling just a bit, but over caution in this was better than accidentally abusing Deli because of some cultural norm, debt thing he didn’t know about.

“My main concern is the whole debt thing. With the party and the leader stuff, matters you’ve been hinting at.” “There, that should be clear enough.”

Her expression cleared up. “Ah, that worries you. Well,” she said, wiggling in place, “this is a bit unconventional, but I guess I can still teach you, Frank.” She teased him, while sitting in his lap. He wasn’t going to just let her do that. His left hand slowly slipped lower, while the right swung back around to rest just to the side of her breast.

“Behave, at least until you are done talking.”

Deli quieted, the wiggles stopping, and that wasn’t a good sign. His discomfort with the whole thing grew. She clearly wanted to keep teasing him, but stopped the moment he ordered it.

With a soft shrug, Deli elaborated: “I’ve sworn myself to your service. It’s done. There is nothing you or anyone can do about it. My blade, my body, are yours.”

Frank winced, only to feel two fingers painfully hit his breastbone. “But if you try and make of me a firekeeper, I will stab you. Repeatedly.” She demonstrated with more painful taps.

“When you say mine…”

She smiled at him. “To do with as you wish. It’s the least I can do for the service you’re rendered me. You saved my life Frank. It’s yours.”

His head fell, and actually hit hers lightly, forehead to forehead. For a moment, the urge to drop his head and facepalm had been overwhelming.

“What?” Deli asked, confused.

He sighed. It was long, and heartfelt. She was right there, his body almost screamed at him.

“Some days, having morals and principles is a right pain in my ass.”

“Deli. That’s not how we do things.”

She clearly disagreed. Already he could tell what the coming counter argument would be: they did.

“I mean, my people, my” Frank still wasn’t ready to admit being from another world, but a ready excuse came to him in a flash: Thou Shall Not Beget Strife Among The Faithful.

Each nation had a state religion, a main Cult, but they also had many local or smaller ones, worshiping some other aspect, or in a different way.

“My Cult, we would see this as a form of coercion.”

She still didn’t understand. Pressure and some amount of coercion was normal in her culture, Frank reminded himself.

“It would be a crime, Deli. Akin to rape.”

That slapped her in the face and she reared back, almost leaving his lap. Deli sputtered, half-formed words soon replaced by confused, contrite ones: “But I did not, I am not trying to rape you. And you are clearly willing!”

Frank did face palm then. She’d pulled back, but only until the hand on her ass went taut.

“Deli.” He tried for firmness, but at this point it was plaintive. He shifted her around with one hand, and she moved as he willed it. The moment she felt where he wanted her, she complied, offering no resistance as her butt danced in the air.

“You’re telling me that because of the debt, I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. With your body, as I please.”

He stopped manhandling her, the demonstration clear.

“Well, yes.” She replied, still not getting it.

“Regardless of what you want.” He tried to point out.

“I want to serve. I want what you do.”

Frank was reaching the end of his patience. “I see.” He really needed something to shock her out of this, make her see how wrong it was.

“So if I told you to fetch some ropes?”

“I would.” She tried to get up, but with one hand on her back and the other on her shoulder he held her back.

“And ordered you to strip and bend over the table.”

“Yes.” There was just the slightest hesitation to it.

“You’d be happy to let me bind your hands over it, and your feet wide to the legs. Leaving you helpless and open for my use.”

“I would.” She said firmly, but it took a little out of her. She was not comfortable with the idea.

“And if I then decide to use not only your tunnel but also your back, you’d be fine with that?”

Deli winced, but still told him: “If that’s what you wanted.”

“But you would not want it.” He said firmly, as was obvious.

“I would.” She stubbornly insisted.

Seriously, how far did he have to push this before she saw it was wrong?

“And if I wanted to gag you, and invite some friends over to share?”

Finally, that broke her composure. “You wouldn’t!” Deli jumped out of his lap as if burned and he let her. Then, she winced, and it was like someone had slapped her. Growing paler, she forced herself back into his lap, meeting his eyes, hers now wide and fearful. Frank watched her, his worries growing.

She bowed her head in respect, then lower, in submission.

“If that is your wish.” Deli hoarsely whispered. She’d taken some damn fool Oath again, hadn’t she? Probably because of the title, feeling like she was unworthy of it.

He put a finger under her chin, and slowly raised it. Met her eyes again.

“I wouldn’t. But I can. And that is wrong. Because you do not want it. Because you consent only for the debt and shame you feel upon your shoulders.”

“But I do.” She said, tearing up a bit, but quick to blink, hide them.

“Deli.” He told her softly, as she tried to keep her composure. “What a bind you’ve gotten yourself into, girl. Come on.” Getting up, Frank helped her back to her chair, and picked up a blanket, throwing it around her shoulders. It covered her, the edges falling to the floor.

While she held the blanket tightly closed and stared at the floor, he pulled up his chair. Brought her a cup of water, one she downed in one gulp.

“Do you see how I might have a problem with this? You, forcing yourself to be alright with me using you?”

She shook her head, in denial. “That isn’t-”

“It is. It’s exactly that. You can’t make yourself want something Deli. Well, maybe. But you can’t make yourself want someone. That’s not how humans work.” He told her, trying to be understanding, supportive. It wasn’t easy.

“But you’re a good man. You wouldn’t abuse me.” She hesitated. “Not like that.”

“I wouldn’t.” He confirmed firmly, trying to banish the spectres of abuse he’d called up. They’d done their job. Perhaps too well. He’d forgotten she was a maiden, a virgin. That just because the society was open, crude and had lewd songs didn’t also mean she was experienced.

“In my mind, when one has power over another, any relationship will be under the weight of it. It’s little enough, day to day, but when it comes to a Commander and his soldiers, or a leader and his party…”

Deli shook her head again, denying it, but it was much weaker.

“If you are one of mine and we fight together, I already have power over life and death over you. In deciding which fights to send you in, and how. That’s shaky ground to start a healthy relationship on.”

“But you need comforting and you want me. I’ve seen it. I can help.” She insisted.

Adjusting his pants, Frank told her: “I do, and I do.” He agreed, there was no point denying it. “But it’s not your duty to comfort me Deli.” He told her gently.

She looked at him helplessly. “Then how can I help?”

“You can’t.” He told her bluntly. "Not with this. I’ll find someone interested, or a professional, and take care of it.”

That brought some life back to her eyes. “So if I can find one for you…”

“Deli, I don’t need you going around trying to find me a girlfriend. Or hiring a prostitute.” Frank replied, exasperated. Then he had a horrible thought of Deli offering her body to others for favors or things that might help him. Selling herself for coin, not because she wanted it as a job, but because the debt made her.

“And while we’re at it, let’s put a pause to any ideas you might have on using your body as a bargaining chip, coin for my well-being.”

She actually had the gall to pout at him. “But I still don’t have much Stamina to take patrols, and my Skills are mostly useless here. How can I help if you deny me the use of my body?”

“Oh Gods, let it end.” Staying reasonable was weighing on him. It’s not that he wasn’t tempted.

“We’ll figure something out. Get you started on some training to wear you out and keep you out of trouble.”

“And keep me from temptation.”

“For clearly, you’ve a nose for it.”

She huffed, blushing. “I do not.”

“Then tell me you did not consider selling your nightly service to buy me better armour after I complained about my Light set.”

Her blush intensified, but she didn’t deny it. Frank took a deep breath, and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and intertwining his fingers.

“We’re going to need some ground rules, if you want to serve me without giving me a heart attack or inadvertently burden me with Sin, you loose, snowmaiden, you.” He chided her.

Her face nearly went full red, but the word Sin caught her attention. Each Cult had different traditions, morals. Different Virtues, and Sins. This at least she could relate to.

After a moment to consider, she straightened out and nodded firmly, her blush slowly fading. “I should have known. With how little you know of us, it should have been apparent how little I knew of your people. I’m sorry Frank. I’ll listen.”

Finally feeling some relief with the whole deeply uncomfortable situation, Frank started laying out some basic ethics. If that wasn’t quite the relief his lower half craved, well, it would just have to hold on for a little while longer.

The Reclaimers were a fighting company. Frank would bet a week’s wages that somewhere in this town, there was at least one woman of loose morals, or open with offering her nightly services. With what it was like here, there’d be at least two of them: one man and one woman. Otherwise, even with some dependents along for the trip, the soldiers without would riot.

Even in a mixed company, many would not find a lover with any kind of ease, and it was standard practice for every Legion to have camp followers with the necessary professions. Frank doubted the companies in the Confederation were any different.

For now, he had to make sure Deli didn’t do something he’d find repellent out of a misplaced sense of duty. Prostitution by professionals was fine. What she was doing wasn’t, not for a debt to him. If it was his debt, he damn well deserved some input on the limits she would go to service it.

“Service me.”

…

“God damn it, down already! You’ll get yours later.”

***

After a lengthy discussion, during which Deli dressed again, he did have one final question, just in case.

“Is there anything else to address? Concerns, thoughts?”

When she hesitated, he almost wanted to run. That had been a heavy conversation, that devolved to shouting at one time. Deli did not appreciate the parallels he’d made between her situation, rape, and how firekeepers were treated. To her, it simply wasn’t rape. A firekeeper should want to provide. It was their choice.

Deli did not address the case of one taken in a raid. When he brought it up, it made her quiet, withdrawn. Frank had a feeling he’d found one of the roots of her insistence on not being one. She didn’t agree either, but didn’t want to condemn someone by denouncing it. Probably a parent.

“Well, if you are sure you want the truth?” She asked him.

The fact her Oath gave her vague warnings when she was about to break it really didn’t help. It was an inhuman thing, with little nuance. It would stop her from a gross mistake, but the details obviously escaped whatever guided such things.

She looked around, checking to make sure all the windows were closed. She even opened one, just a bit, to confirm it was still storming outside. He got the feeling she wanted to make sure they were private.

Once done with her rounds she came back and sat across from him. Putting her hands before her, palms open to him, she asked: “It would be really helpful if you made it clear who is and isn’t to know, and when and why, about you being a Hero, Frank.”

He’d been leaning his head on his hand, elbow on the table. It slid out, and his head hit the surface hard enough to jar his brain.

“We just had one serious conversation.” He complained. “Gods, give me mercy, I can’t get into my backstory right now. It’s too much.”

“Frank?” Deli asked, worried.

“Nope. No. Nah. Nada. Nein. I’m going to bed. I’m going to read my notes, and not talk for at last an hour. For now, don’t tell anyone, ok?”

“Yes, sure Frank.” She nodded, getting up and out of his way.

Frank stomped upstairs and threw himself into bed. He was getting a headache. He threw the covers over his head, and tried to make it go away.

Frank tossed and turned, tried to read, but couldn’t focus.

It didn’t work.

There was a cauldron in him, boiling every which way. Parts of him calling him a fool for missing out, others shouting them down.

Soft footsteps followed him up.

Deli slowly peeled back the covers off his head.

“This is really tearing you up, isn’t it?” She asked with a crooked smile.

“Yes.” He bit out, frustrated, angry, just already tired of today. It had been a long early morning shift.

Her head waved, left and right, in tiny little shakes. She sighed.

“Scoot over.”

Frank frowned at her, but cleared a bit of space. She sat in his bed, one leg crossed under the other, which hung over the edge of the bed. She pulled back a bit, adjusted, until she could lean on the headrest. Then pulled him up into her lap, as a pillow, and started running her hand through his hair.

“Deli I told you-“ he started, getting up.

“I know.” She cut him off, firmly. “I know.” Softer. “Not about that. I’m not here for sex.” She sounded sincere.

“But I’m still your friend, and I can help. This can help. My mom and da did it for me, when I was hurting.”

Hesitant, he lowered his head slowly, and she resumed her ministrations. running her hands through his hair. Massaging his scalp. But there was no passion to the touches. No tension to her.

She was still a living furnace, but the false ardor had gone out of it. Now it was just soft and warm. “I’m sorry for troubling you so. I’ll learn.”

He was too tired to argue. And it did feel good for the headache. Helped.

He just had to be careful not to abuse her. He didn’t want that. To be that man. It was a slippery slope, and the first step was easy, so easy to take. Easy to miss happening.

He didn’t want that. She deserved better. They both did.

If she’d taken him as a liege lord, as Karl, he’d try to be a good one.

It was all anyone could do.

“Try our best, and deal with the rest as it comes.”