Only through supreme effort of will do I suppress my immediate instinct – to kill this human. To kill every human. To lay waste to this wretched little piece of dirt until it's uninhabitable for a hundred generations to come. My mind spins through a million different methodologies in an instant – he could be beheaded or ignited or combusted or crushed or smashed or dismembered or fed to any number of horrible beasts – the possibilities are almost literally endless, a shame humans have but one life to give. For an instant my rage towers, uninhibited, before I tightly leash it back with thoughts of Pink, the plan, and the proper dignity to be maintained by a ruler.

Sensing some tiny sliver of that intent, the hand flinches away almost as soon as it touches me. I turn back to look at them. Two of the armored men are still standing over Martin – he's been bloodied considerably, his face a mass of bruises, bleeding everywhere – while the third is standing closest to me, arm still partially outstretched. They seem to know that they've made a mistake. Bathed as they are in my bloodthist. You can see it in their faces – pale ovals devoid of blood under their helmets – can see the terror. That doesn't help. Makes things worse actually, to know that they know. To let them know they've slighted me and to survive with that knowledge? I can feel the heat I just beat down rising again, threatening to swallow me whole.

But I have an objective, don't I? So I'll just have to …compromise. With that in mind I focus. The man with the scarred face before me trembles in his armor, withdrawing his arm and taking a short backward step. I'll have his life, that much is decided, but it doesn't need to be now. I am a Demon Lord am I not? I can surely devise some more appropriate method than just beating every insect that annoys me down in the streets.

So with a thought and a flourish a single black feather appears. It hovers there, sleek and black – a thing of beauty – hanging vertical, suspended in midair, above my palm for a moment. Ever so carefully my fingers wrap around it – plucking the feather from the air. Extending my arm, I offer it to the man.

“Here human.” My voice is gentle – no trace of the fury I feel. “A gift.”

The man has stiffened, his body screams the fear he feels – trembling at my presence, face pale, a stench of terror rising from him – but his face is twisting into a frown. Angry. At me for scaring him, or maybe at himself for being scared. A sort of suicidal recklessness written across his face.

“Who do you think you're talking to girl?” His eyes skitter nervously around, looking anywhere but back into mine, while he tries to sound intimidating. Almost comical. “I'm with the Fourth Legion. You know what that means? I could have you-”

“A gift. Human.” My smile widens, becoming predatory despite my best intentions. My arm still extended.

The man takes another step back. Exchanging confused glances with his companions. Around us other humans are starting to take note, indifferent as they had been to the violence happening before – this unexpected turn is apparently capturing interest. We're right in the center of this courtyard at the foot of the fountain – surrounded by a hundred pairs of eyes taking surreptitious glances. A little less naked about their curiosity than the humans in the Lows, but no less curious. And I, still offering my gift, can only feel exhausted. Would that these humans would just leave me be or – failing that – quietly accept what comes following such failure.

The man in front of me cracks. I can see it in his face, the moment when his mind informs him – in no uncertain terms – that this is not a place he should be. A sickly sheen of sweat coats his pale face as he struggles to meet my gaze, his scar standing out in stark relief against his suddenly sheet-like complexion, and he takes another nervous shuffling step backwards.

“Y-you. You can't…” He gets that far and stops. Overwhelmed by the gazes of the spectators, by my offer, by that feeling of immediate and uncompromising death that is no doubt enveloping him the longer he meets my eyes. Without ceremony he spins on his heel and runs away. With no thought for dignity, he simply turns and runs as a rabbit before the wolves – sprinting through the slightly crowded courtyard, weaving in and around the humans that litter the place. His two minions as well are running – feet moving before thoughts can form undoubtedly – the three men split into random directions and sprint away with much undignified clattering and clanking of armor.

“How rude.” I murmur. But – my rapidly cooling head reminds me – probably the best outcome here. Better, certainly, than beginning some sort of massacre in the middle of a human city. The situation being as unclear as it is – these people could turn out to be very important to my future success or failure. Martin has stood up, moving slowly with his injuries, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and hocking out a mouthful of blood. He watches the fleeing men for a moment with apparent disinterest before turning back to me and my still proffered gift.

“That's valuable isn't it lady?” He asks, his eyes glued to the feather in my fingers.

“More than the lives of every human in this city.” I reply absently. Still distracted by my inner turmoil at letting the creatures flee intact.

“Then...” He reaches up and plucks it from between my fingers. “As payment for bringing you here.” He mutters defiantly.

A bit surprised I give him an appraising glance. He's cradling the feather gently in both hands, looking down at it with fascination. Not really my intended outcome. But looking at him this could be a useful development …well – maybe? Probably not though. He's so weak. But it's not as if a single feather is any great loss. Further I did offer it up as a gift.

“It's yours then ...Martin. I won't go back on my word. But you're too weak for it to be of any real use to you – sorry child. Try some mana circulation exercises or something, your body is absurdly frail.” I advise him a bit – if he can make himself useful going forward, all the better. “But is it alright for you to linger here? Some people seem to take issue with your presence.”

He looks up at me, his eyes narrowing. “Yea you're right lady, no place for someone like me round here – but are you gonna be alright? I mean – thanks for scaring off Karr like that – but he's with the Fourth Legion you know? Recruitment. He'll be back.”

I shrug. “Good, we have business he and I. I'll look forward to meeting him again – you needn't worry for me child.” My reply is dismissive. And indeed I've already mostly forgotten the troubles of the human called Martin as I turn away and begin making a slow round of the fountain.

“Ok, guess you don't strike me as the type to be overly troubled on account of someone like Karr – so I'll see you around lady. Try to be a bit more careful in the future though huh?” He follows me a half dozen steps to deliver his warning before turning as if to leave, slipping my gifted feather under his sack cloth shirt.

“It's Alexandria.”

“Huh?” My words stop him in his tracks.

“My name boy. Don't forget it.”

“Ok. Goodbye then – Alexandria.” He says before walking away.

Ignoring him as he leaves I continue to examine the fountain – still searching. What I'm looking for is here, one of Pink's “relics” that she got so excited about before we entered the city, but I'm unable to pinpoint it with just my mana sense. It's in the fountain, or around it, on the statue, or buried under the thing? I can't tell. I can merely confirm that it's close. I could cast a spell to locate it but someone would surely notice. The scrutiny I've felt since entering this city has been intense, and my little altercation with Martin's friends has only caused it to intensify.

So instead of doing that I'm just standing here trying to puzzle it out without the aid of magic. Having completed my circuit of the fountain, no one point on it jumped out at me as “this is a heavily enchanted magical item” so that means...? Who knows. Why would the humans put a powerful magical item in a fountain anyway? Pink is right that such “relics” have long been coveted for their potential as tools of war – there's no meaning to entombing one in the center of a city. My time here is probably fairly limited anyway, those humans that ran off will probably be rounding up their fellows and gathering their courage even as I'm standing here – I doubt they are as willing to forget me as I am to forget them.

That's alright though. I'm not sure I have the patience for the slower method Pink seems to be advocating. I think I've already expended most of my reserves of patience when I waited in that wretched queue of humans. Thinking that raise my hand in front of me – pointing into the fountain – and flex it into an arcane sigil, willing the magic forward, sending it out to seek.

The response is instantaneous. First I'm slightly overwhelmed as an intimate knowledge of every item in the city with a speck of magic imbued into it flows into my mind – paralyzing me as I'm forced to process the sudden overload of information. Through walls, under clothes, behind doors, and inside chests and boxes and crates – thousands of tiny pinpricks of magic light up all around me. One corner of the city – to the east – is particularly bad, thousands upon thousands of tiny magical signatures crammed in one place, stacked one atop another, like a bonfire of candles. I raise my hand to my face, struggling to filter out the sudden onslaught of garbage information – internally cursing my carelessness – my magical control has been severely lacking recently, it's getting a bit ridiculous.

Fortunately I also see what I came to look for shining like a tiny sun before me – compared to the weak and flickering candles of magic in the distance – it's a shaped like a small cup and it's embedded into the stones that make up the foundation of the pedestal upon which the ugly statue stands.

Seeing that I almost sigh. I vaguely recognize the thing, goblets like this adorned my tables – once upon a time. In short this is not what we are here for. The Master's Chain is – as the name implies – a chain, a twisted length of blackened metal crudely shaped into a wand. Not a cup. This is useless in other words, just another worthless bauble, but a bauble from Artas – so maybe confirming its existence was not a complete waste of time. It's still a mystery why it's here but this is evidence enough that the humans did manage to import some of Pink's “Holy Relics” so The Chain should be around. Somewhere. The enormity of the task of searching all of Suprema makes me want to just close my eyes and forget all of this but I reluctantly force that feeling down – hopefully we can just find someone to ask for the things return.

Around me magic is happening. In the literal sense. I can feel humans mages expending large, relatively speaking, quantities of mana in response to my own spellcasting. Peeking through the fingers of the hand still on my face though, there are no obvious changes. There are still humans in finery strolling around the courtyard oblivious that anything has happened at all, still a handful of merchant stalls peddling their wares, the changes are subtle. A few of the stronger presences I'd noted have disappeared – retreating away with other humans in tow. And a few of them seem to be preparing for battle – I can even see one such man, wearing navy blue robes and standing against one wall of the courtyard, cladding himself in a dozen different pathetic magical protections.

Well.

I think that I've aggravated the locals to the point of no return. My judgment is reaffirmed by the arrival of two dozen or so more of those warrior caste humans, all dressed in matching armor, marching conspicuously into the courtyard. And even as they arrive another two dozen come marching in from the other side. The various unarmored humans seem confused at their arrival and all begin to rapidly vacate the area. The armored humans in turn ignore these onlookers, allowing them to stream around and through their formations unmolested, and maybe sixty seconds after the arrival of the armored humans the courtyard is empty.

The two groups of humans stop on either side of me, leaving about twenty feet of space on either side. There are three of the blue robed men I'd noted earlier, spread out behind the armored formations, and each of the groups of armored humans brought a single blue robed man with them, bringing the total up to five. Those five being the only ones I pay any attention to at all, each of them circulating mana, each of them protecting themselves with pitiful barriers and wards; human mages. Their armored companions are just more human “warriors” holding swords and spears and small metal shields. The other powerful humans I'd noted have made themselves scare – apparently unaffiliated with this group – though I can see one of them, a red-haired woman, she's sitting on the rooftop of the building directly in front of me, content to spectate.

In short, it's a truly pathetic display of force. Rather than intimidation, the sight just raises questions about the value of allying myself with these humans – which is, more or less – my ultimate goal here. The more eyes and hands and minds on a problem, the swifter its resolution generally speaking. But if the hands are feeble, the eyes blind, and the minds ignorant, what value is there to them – really?

“T-that's her captain!” A familiar voice rings out. It's my old friend with the scar on his face, pointing me out to the man beside him. The second man – a red band emblazoned with a crest on his arm – looks at me skeptically from under his helmet.

“She's the one! The one what interfered with me doing my duties as an Imperial Recruitment Officer, using threats of violence and magicking the minds of me and my men!” He's shouting, a note of hysteria creeping into his voice as he meets my eyes. “She needs to be strung up! No quarter captain!”

“Shut up Karr.” The second man's voice is even as he steps forward and addresses his next words to me. “My name is Captain Edward Nox, of the Fourth Imperial Legion, by the authority vested in me by the Crown – it is my intention to apprehend you for questioning. Do not resist.”

Removing my hand from my face I slowly sweep my gaze across the assembled humans, lingering a moment on the pale face of the man called Karr – loosing a small smile when he immediately falters under my gaze, stepping back and sort of ducking behind his 'captain', leading my eyes straight to the man in question. I hadn't intended to make any major movements in this city but the situation seems to have spiraled past the point where I can just sit on my hands and wait for Pink to sort everything out. That being the case, it's probably best to just hurry things along as much as possible right? No need for sneaking and skulking.

Besides hiding my wings and horns all the time isn't fun. It's itchy. Like wearing shoes slightly too small for you. An unpleasant and unrelenting feeling of pressure near my temples and my hips. So taking all those factors into consideration I stretch my arms above my head – in the manner I've seen humans casually doing from time to time – allowing my wings to unfurl and my horns to reappear as I do so. With the sun at my back it casts a slightly ominous shadow over the assembled humans and I smile at the man who declared his intention to apprehend me.

“No. I don't think that will be happening human. It is my in-”

“UNBOUND! UNBOUND IN THE CITY!” A loud cry interrupts me. And all the gathered humans ready themselves – hands reaching for weapons, mumbled incantations starting. Not something entirely unexpected if I'm being honest. Which is why in preparation I've had my mana condensing around me since these humans arrived, a mass of congealed power thrumming in the air that I release with a thought.

Not actually creating a spell. Just channeling a huge quantity of raw mana and manifesting it as crude physical force, which slams down into them from above their heads. Terribly inefficient, horribly wasteful, but so easy to use! The force slams the humans to their knees, magicians losing their spells as the hostile mana irreparably disrupts them – but leaves them otherwise intact. Well maybe a broken leg or two among the particularly weak humans.

“Be silent when I am speaking human. That is the absolute minimum requirement for conversation.” I grin down at them, getting into my role a bit. The man I'm talking to – Captain Nox – caught himself with his spear before he could fall, maintaining his standing posture even as his men are all on their knees behind him. His face is resolute, mouth a grim line of determination as he glares back at me.

“Come now. Don't glare at me so. Twas not I who initiated hostilities. Hopefully from here we might begin again. Let's introduce ourselves. I am the Demon Lord Alexandria, I've traveled far, from across the sea, to visit your pitiful human settlement.” The smile slips from my face, my gaze cool and imperious – awaiting a response.

The silence stretches out for moment before the human realizes I'm seriously expecting a response. “...my name is Captain Edward Nox. And know that even if you kill us here, humanity will not falter – we will fight to the last!”

“That is my hope captain. That is my hope. In fact it's because we have something of a mutual enemy that I am here at all. But in truth those words are not for your ears, captain. You should have a king or a lord or something ruling over you humans, correct? It is my hope, my dearest wish, that I might be introduced to that personage.”

At my words the captain looks a bit confused, clearly not what he was expecting to hear. But it seems he's identified me as an enemy because his next words are a refutation. “Never. The Legion would die before we allow a monstrous Unbound to approach Lord Clearwater.”

“Really captain? I've told you already – I'm a demon and I'm starting to feel a bit insulted at your insinuations otherwise.” At the word “insulted” I circulate my mana a bit – letting them feel my power firsthand, the proverbial knife at their throats – to a chorus of groans and shivers.

“A demon is no better than an Unbound, humanity has no words for you!” He shouts back, unperturbed by my little show of force.

“Are you …quiet sure of that little human? Are you …qualified to speak for all of humanity, captain? So eager to toss aside my goodwill, is it wise? Will the other humans thank you, when they are ripped apart by those Unbound you fear so much? Even if I have nothing to offer, is it your place to reject me? Captain?” I step into him as I speak, boring into him with my eyes – reminding him of his place.

He's faltering, looking even more confused. Unsure. But before he can come to a decision the situation escalates beyond his control. Because the scarred man seems to have finally found his nerve, no longer cowering behind his captain, his face is twisted in a mask of rage. Whether it's because I humiliated him earlier, or because I humiliated him again just now, or just because I am a demon and he a human, the reason is unclear – the minds of humans truly unfathomable. With puny speed and power he charges at me – sword drawn.

“DIE BITCH.” He screams as he comes – not the most creative with his insults, this man. Captain Nox sees him coming and his eyes widen, words begin to form on his lips – reprimands or encouragement, the world will never know because at that moment I shrug my shoulders and say a single word – in a voice like a sigh.

“Pink.”

And she falls on him like a star. Slamming the idiot human down into the dirt where he belongs, cobblestones rattling at the impact. She then stands proudly – my finest(only) servant, digging her black boot heels into the man's back, once again adorned in her leather armor and menacingly brandishing her sword. Wings and horns and angry pink skin proudly on display, Pink is ready for battle. The humans – surprised at her sudden appearance – react in a variety of ways, losing their footing and faceplanting into the dirt, clutching at their weapons, tensing for battle, and a perceptive few look up as if to be sure there will be no more falling surprises, only to see half a hundred spears of green fire hovering angrily in the sky directly above our heads.

With a casual hop, moving with all the lithe grace one might expect of a succubus, Pink moves in front of me. Putting herself between me and the gawping humans, who've yet to react to her arrival.

“Milady, I've returned.”

I knew I was right to trust in this one – she's so reliable.